Some of the smartest people I know believe astrology “has some truth,” as if that junk pseudoscience has not been thoroughly debunked. It's the most baffling thing I regularly encounter, mostly in the context of dating.
For me, the potential for a long-term relationship dies a sad death the moment she asks me what my sign is. I'll think:
"You, former valedictorian, believe the positions of celestial bodies have a causal effect on our personal temperaments?
You, serial entrepreneur, think that zodiac compatibility has non-zero predictive power?
You, doctoral candidate in immunobiology, leave open the possibility that my birthdate offers insight into my likely reaction to adversity?"
"Pisces, my lady," I'll smile warmly, "it has been a real treat to meet you tonight. But like the capricious [zodiac sign redacted] I so obviously am, I just remembered that I need to get the fuck out of here."