I’ve been seeing this weekly Virgo tarot nonsense popping up everywhere lately. Not just Virgo, honestly, all the signs get this treatment. But it was a Virgo reading that finally pushed me over the edge.
I usually just scroll past this kind of stuff. I’m a practical guy. I plan, I execute, I deal with the fallout. Predictions are mostly for people who don’t want to take the blame for their own screw-ups. But then my brother-in-law, a textbook Virgo, decided he was going to delay a big family investment because his “celestial guide” told him “a necessary pause would reveal a hidden enemy.” A hidden enemy!
I nearly lost my mind. This was a critical deadline, and he was citing some random YouTube guru who drew three cards and spoke in vague riddles. The whole thing was costing us both time and money. He kept repeating the same phrases, “It’s in the stars, man,” and “I need clarity before I act.” It sounded like total hogwash.
I got home that night, already steaming, and I thought, “Alright, let’s see just how accurate this crap really is.” I decided to turn this annoyance into a proper, recorded practice. I was going to test the Virgo “Next Week” reading, not just that one, but three different ones, and log the results day by day for seven days straight. I wanted proof, not just for him, but for myself, so I could finally shut down the next astrological excuse I heard.
The Messy Setup: Grabbing the Crystal Ball’s “Facts”
I pulled up three of the most popular free weekly Virgo readings. I deliberately avoided the big, polished ones and went for the ones that looked a little more—well, human. The kind of reading my brother-in-law would actually watch late at night. One was a YouTube video with a cracked crystal ball on the desk, one was from a random blog that hadn’t been updated since 2018, and the third was just a quick Instagram Reel summary.
My first job was capturing the “predictions.” This was harder than it sounds because these things are masters of vague language. They don’t say, “You will receive a check for $500 on Tuesday.” They say, “A financial influx is imminent, but remain mindful of your spending habits mid-week.”
I ended up grabbing a spreadsheet and listing every single actionable or descriptive prediction I could dig out. I categorized them: Love, Career/Money, Health, and “General Vibe.”
- Reading A (YouTube): Claimed a “significant emotional confrontation” was coming and a “new career path opens up on Friday.”
- Reading B (Blog): Warned about “unexpected small expenses” and a “need to reconnect with an old friend.”
- Reading C (Reel): Promised a “boost in energy” but cautioned against “impulsive communication.”
I ended up with 21 separate, distinct claims. Twenty-one things that were supposed to happen to my brother-in-law, or any generic Virgo, over the next seven days. It already felt ridiculous, but I had committed.
The Seven-Day Slog: Waiting and Recording
I started logging things the following Monday morning. I didn’t just monitor him—because that felt creepy—I also tracked the general events in my own life and in the family circle. I wanted to see if the predictions were so generic that they just applied to everyone who was trying to live a normal week.
Each evening, I pulled out the spreadsheet. I had three columns next to each prediction: “Happened to BIL (Y/N),” “Happened to Me (Y/N),” and “Happened Generally (Y/N).”
Monday: Prediction A said, “Expect a minor clash over shared resources.” My brother-in-law had a small argument with his wife about the grocery bill. Check. Wait. My wife and I also had a small argument about the grocery bill. My neighbor had an argument with his kid about the cable bill. This felt like cheating. I forced myself to only count the one that was most directly applicable to the Virgo.
Mid-Week: Prediction B, the one about “unexpected small expenses,” was a definite Y. He had to replace a flat tire. But honestly, who doesn’t have an unexpected small expense over the course of seven days? That’s called life. It’s not a prediction, it’s a statistic.
Friday was the biggest test. Prediction A promised a “new career path opens up.” I badgered him about this one. He finally admitted his boss mentioned he might be cross-trained on a new software. It was a potential task, not a path. I logged it as a partial hit, but it felt weak. Meanwhile, Prediction C, the “boost in energy,” was a massive fail. He spent Friday night asleep on the couch, exhausted from the week.
The Bottom Line: Don’t Bet Your Life on a Reel
I got to the end of the seven days, and I sat down to crunch the numbers. Out of the 21 claims I tracked:
- Definite, Unambiguous Hits: 2 (One was the tire, the other was a slightly late payment he’d forgotten about, which Reading B correctly framed as “financial pressure.”)
- Ambiguous/Generic Hits (Could apply to anyone, anytime): 11 (This included the “minor clashes,” the “reconnecting with an old friend”—which was just his colleague from 10 years ago texting him about a work thing—and the “mindful spending.”)
- Total Misses: 8 (These were the big ones: no “hidden enemy,” no major “emotional confrontation,” no actual “new career path,” and definitely no “impulsive communication” that he regretted.)
The total accuracy rate for unique, specific events was pathetic, hovering just around 10 percent. The only reason the percentage of “hits” was even that high was because these readings are fundamentally designed to track things that happen to everyone every week—money worries, small disagreements, getting tired, and occasionally seeing an old contact.
I showed my brother-in-law the spreadsheet. I didn’t lecture him; I just laid out the facts I had written down every single evening. He stared at it for a long time.
“So, the ‘necessary pause’ I took because of the hidden enemy advice?” he finally asked.
I just shrugged. “The only ‘enemy’ that was revealed was your own calendar, man. We missed the deadline. That’s what’s real. Not the cards.”
He finally went back to planning, admitting the whole thing was a waste of a week. And that’s the real takeaway from this practice. You can find a prediction that fits any outcome if you look hard enough and keep the language vague enough. But real life, the messy stuff we actually live, needs a pen, paper, a plan, and the guts to just start moving. Not a deck of cards.
