My World Cup Finals Picks

Sobering Results

Welcome to "11th House Prophecies"--your go-to spot for astro-goss. 

Part of me just wants to forget my predictions for the World Cup Finals, predictions which went admittedly  askew. Instead, I feel a weird urge to call even more attention to my failings and write this post. 

Based on a complex astrological methodology, I had picked France vs. England——with England to win. Neither team will sniff the World Cup on Sunday. They will play off against each other, just for third place.

Spain made France look like Croatia. And England blew their lead against Argentina in the last 5 minutes, playing defensive, pussy-whipped football for most of the second half after they went up 1-0 at 55 minutes. Rather than attacking and playing loose, England tightened, and let Messi, the most magical player in the history of the sport, create shot after shot after shot for his teammates. You can't do that with Messi. 

Anyhow, in sports and politics, a bummed-out article like this is known as a post-mortem, during which you analyze your failings in brutal honesty....but, honestly, I would have still picked England. Their Stars were scarily impressive. 

So what's the deal? Perhaps my methodology got too complex in my Finals predictions? Sometimes fewer variables yields stronger results. Perhaps I let my own bias for England tint my delineations? Or perhaps I just got way too cocky after predicting all four quarterfinalists? I think it's the latter option. I got WAY too cocky. 

But, then, is there any wonder? Jupiter is directly atop my Sun at the moment, hence my grandiosity and desire to be extra visible and bold with things. Jupiter/Sun is about wanting all eyes on you. 

In retrospect, this ego-ballooning transit no doubt made me a bit of a maniac the past week or so, pushing me to behave in outlandish ways foreign to my usual circumspection. But, given all this, couldn't one paradoxically argue that the very failure of my astrological predictions points to the inner truth of astrology? That is to say: Why else would I have made such big visible moves, if not for the fact that my own chart has been all about big visible moves? It's as if the truth of my chart led to the bloated errors of my predictions--yet the bloated errors of my predictions proves the truth of my chart. I take solace in this dialectical reversal (also known perhaps as sophistry). 

I would also like to apologize to friends and family to whom I arrogantly gloated about my quarterfinals picks, and to my partner whom I eschewed one afternoon to write my predictions for Substack, even though we were supposed to go picnicking. And yes, I understand, too, his half-in-jest text, sent from a picnic blanket somewhere in Berlin, eating blue cheese and grapes alone: "I hope all your predictions are wrong." They were, sweet prince. But the silver lining here: despite him saying he was going for Argentina, I saw him fist-pump like prime Tiger Woods when England scored. That was the real moment of truth in this whole thing——a truth that said he was rooting for my picks and me, not a team.