"You guys are retarded," says the Cancer Crab.
Back in the day (4000 BC–1948,) people looked to the alignment of the stars for broad assessments of their cultures. They did not know that the universe is constructed around lopsided circles like a child’s science project—probably because they had neither science nor, for very long, any particular child—so the seemingly random movements of the heavens constituted huge, baffling signs. Basically, the sky of our forebears was like the first dude your mom dates after the divorce: vast, inscrutable, and by those virtues ominously significant. If it looked all pretty, like Sagittarius the Dog was chasing Polonius the Squirrel across Poseidon’s Scales or some shit,* 
then they were doing good. If there was a comet or the sun went out, their culture was doing Bad, and they had to ransack their homes looking for gay dudes or pork or books or whatever. It completely sucked to live in our ancestors’ world, is what I’m saying, which is why being alive is so much more popular among people who were born recently. Recently we have the germ theory of disease instead of pogroms, and instead of the stars we have the news. If you look up at the news just now, I believe you will discern a terrifying omen.
