The United States Is A Cancer And We Need To Talk About Its Astrological Chart

Dear America,

I know it’s unbecoming to discuss someone’s flaws for their birthday, but you are a Cancer and it really needs to be addressed. Does anyone know the precise time America was born? I’m really going to need to know its moon and rising sign to see how f*cked we are.

I tried to find out myself, but your actual birth date is contested (apparently the Declaration of Independence was written on July 2nd, approved by Congress July 4th, and the thing wasn’t actually signed until August 2nd?!) so I’m just going to have to assume you’re Cancer on Cancer on Cancer on Cancer with a little bit of Leo. The Leo part does track considering the Kardashians and your belief you’re the dominant world power despite *gestures at literally everything*.

The Cancer does explain why everyone you comprise is so sensitive, emotional, and batsh*t when it comes to change—unless it’s changing electoral boundaries to sway the vote one way or another. But I guess that’s a way of maintaining the status quo, now that I think about it?? And white is the color most associated with Cancer—omg. And, after all, gerrymandering has been a long tradition in this country, and we all know how much Cancers love their antiquated traditions. Change is scary—unless it’s changing the channel to something toothless like current-era Simpsons!

You’re such a Cancer, America, it’s also hard to take you seriously! For real, you’re a caricature of yourself and it’s kind of nuts. We all know Cancers are crabby homebodies, but the rest of the world makes fun of you for how little your population travels. And don’t get me started on the monolingual monstrosity that is everyone you stand for. Only 20% of the United States is bilingual, compared to 56% of Europeans. And our accents suck….soOoOo….

Not only do you process all information emotionally, you react intensely to everything. Seriously, e v e r y t h i n g. Remember your last president who went off the rails because someone said his hands were small? Isn’t the president a reflection of the country? Didn’t an insurrection happen on January 6th because that president’s supporters didn’t get their way? Isn’t Congress just pretending none of that happened? 

I’m getting emotional whiplash over here—good thing you have some Leo in you to roll your eyes at your Cancerous parts and move on, America! It takes a real Leo rising to make your own birthday a national holiday. Especially one traditionally celebrated with an all-night party featuring fireworks. 

Sure, you may wear your heart on your sleeves, U.S., but don’t have a meltdown if anyone leaves your party early. However, it is your party, America—you can cry if you want to. And everyone knows you probably will want to, you messy, emotional bitch. Just try not to be your vindictive self and post unflattering guest photos on Insta. 

My hope for your 245th birthday is that you stop being a moody crybaby. But if the past 244 years are any inclination, we’re not going to have to wait for a retrograde to see you revert to your old ways. Anyway, happy birthday, America—you’re a handful, but I haven’t left yet. Probably because I only know one language. 


Your Antsy Astrologer with Stockholm Syndrome

Images: Daniel Monteiro / Unsplash

Brooke Knisley
Brooke Knisley
Brooke Knisley is a disabled writer who has written comedy for the New Yorker, McSweeney's, Playboy, Rewire News Group, Weekly Humorist, and others. She has balance issues. For more jokes, follow her on Instagram and Twitter.