I mean, you wouldn’t expect every cat to be a Leo, would you? Any more than you might expect every shellfish to be a Cancer, or every shy wallflower to be a Virgo.
Do you think all those whacked out dudes they profile on Shark Week are Pisces? No, I bet not. And just because you sport a pair of wicked horns and go after a fluttering red cape, that doesn’t mean you’re a Taurus.
You know, you really ought be more careful in your assumptions. One day, you might stand accused of astrological profiling. I’m sure not every member of St. Louis’ NFL team is an Aries, and I know that fat doofus Antonin Scalia is no Libra!
I’m a Sagittarius, and I’m all that the sign of the archer implies: masculine, extroverted, philosophical, independent, outdoorsy, blunt and enthusiastic. I’m a truly passionate creature of the fire sign (just reach for my favorite blanket if you want proof).