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Thursday, April 7, 2011

One ball more! Another day, another dustbunny.


Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, April 07, 2011.  Sorry to have missed all the Hump Day festivities, but We are currently being distressed  and dispirited by spending every day this week on the phone with Customer Disservice Representatives, dealing with Our hackage.  A hackage, We might point out, which was not in the least distressing to the perpetrators, except for the part where they didn’t so much get away with it, but which has apparently become a full time jawb for Us Our Own Self Personally.  And We did have such good intentions, going into this spring-like week, of actually accomplishing things.  Why, We had SUCH good intentions, We could have gotten a jawb on a road-paving crew.  Of course, that wouldn’t necessarily have ended well…

But enough of all of Our trials and tribulations, sinking in a gentle pool of whine.  The foregoing is also Our excuse for any missing emails, smoke signals, or other billets-doux We might owe any of you, and We promise to try to get caught up soon.

We should point out that, despite Our current frazzlement, We did just confirm the correct pluralization of “billet-doux”.  Because that’s the kind of full service Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulation) you’ve come to expect around these parts.  (Why We neglected to ascertain a proper nounization of “frazzle”, We decline at this juncture to state. (And We refuse outright to discuss “nounization”.))

Other than the fact that Our life is pretty much going to hell in a hand lotion (what does that even MEAN?), We have precious little to report.  Those of you who know Us well may be aware that, here at Casa de Classless, We do occasionally indulge in some reality television.  We used to watch Big Brother every year, and We still watch each and every episode of Survivor.   The current season of Survivor is feraturing the requisite Jeebus freak in the form of a hot young college boi type with Jeebus’s hair and a body that would look really hawt breaking one commandment after another.  Unfortunately for him, he shares the delusion of Jeebus freaks everywhere that Jeebus (and/or God) give a crap whether or not he wins Survivor. Which caused Us to dredge through Our archives for an oldie but a goodie to re-share with you today.  The following is from a July, 2004 Erix Daily Horoscope, and was written in response to an episode of Big Brother Season 5:


To: Reality TV show fame-whores, specifically those on Big Brother 5
From:  God
Re: Good vs. Evil

I was stepping out of a long hot bubble bath the other day when I happened to catch the Virgin Mary watching your show, Big Brother 5.  Ordinarily, We don’t much go in for television up here (once you can literally do anything you want, forever, you’d be surprised how little television you actually WANT to watch), except for Nick at Nite (LOOOOVE those old reruns) and The Young And The Rest Of Us (Katherine Chancellor and I went to school together).  However, the Virgin Mary had made her extra-spicy Guadeloupe Guacamole, so I pulled up a tortilla chip and sat down and was somewhat disturbed by what I saw.

First of all, you are playing A GAME. Neither side is “good” or “evil”; they are simply “Us” and “Them”.   No matter how many times or in what bizarre ways you invoke My name, I am passionately indifferent as to the outcome of your little contest (although I HAVE to say, Will is awfully cute).  And please do not make yourselves ridiculous by asking that I come along and “smite your enemies”.  The last time I got a good smite on, they wrote a book about it, and turned it into an Epic Motion Picture starring Charlton Heston, who subsequently became extremely confused and started thinking he was Me.

Speaking of that particular book, I noticed that, although you are not permitted to have writing implements or reading material in the Big Brother House, the producers have made an exception for the bible, which you all seem to read and quote with severely arched eyebrows, as though there are bible passages that have some special significance to This Week’s Food Competition, or Who Wins Head Of Household.  I am here to tell you, THERE AREN’T.  Most of the people who wrote the bible (leaving aside the issue of My Inspiration for another memo) don’t even WATCH television up here, although many of them are quite fascinated with computers, especially Ezekiel.  

On the same subject, if *I* were locked in a house for the summer with twelve strangers (which, since I know everyone, would seem to be an impossibility along the lines of “Could God make a rock so heavy that He couldn’t lift it?”…HEE! Of all the things I invented, I love the human mind the most.), I’d be thinking, “This would be a really good time to get around to re-reading Gone With The Wind” or “Gee, I’ve always meant to read Atlas Shrugged.” 

The bible? Not so much.

In closing, I hope you all enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame, and I’ll see you (albeit briefly) in the Afterlife.


Meanwhile, We enjoyed this so much the other day, We thought We’d do it again.  (And, apparently, again, and again, and again. ((And again and again and again some more.(We figger We might as well amuse Our Own Self. (In fact, We may just do it forever and ever.  Or at least till its existence is acknowledged. (And today, We’re not even changing it.)))):

And so, without a boy named Sue:

Ivory soap, Ivory soap on order.
Hop On Pop, Rwanda made an error.
Ivory soap, Ivory soap on order..
‘Mo, ho, ho, hoMO, ho, ho, hoMO, ho, ho, homo!

Life is easier than ever for you right now; (You have the asshatted audacity to MOCK Us, you asshat-wearing Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulating) asshat?  A pox upon you! And your ass!  And your hat!  And your asshat!)

see if you can get your people to push themselves a little more (Where are these damn “people” you keep alleging that We have?  And do they do windows? (It is unclear to Us why, if you are a “people” of the housecleaning variety, you would balk at “doing windows”, when there are so many more arduous and odious housecleaning tasks.  Shouldn’t the phrase be, perhaps, “I don’t do toilets”?))

— if only so they can keep up with you! (You MEAN, so they can keep up with me-ee a-and Mrs., Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones… (We got a thing goin’ on.))

(Soooooooullll train!)

Life is too much fun to waste idling.  (We beg to differ.  (Unlike, however, the non-window-doers, We do NOT beg to Swiffer™.  Because that?  Would be foolish.))

The stakes are getting higher, (Isn’t it a little early in the day for that?  What are they, in college?)

and you will need to up your competitiveness in order to stay in the game. (Can’t We stay OUT of the game, and just be an athletic supporter?)

Don’t worry (Be crappy!)

— you can do it! (Of course We CAN do it; We just don’t WANT to do it.  Can’t We have Our People do it?)

Even if you were never a varsity sports star, (Have We met?)

(It just occurred to Us that, while We had a sense of what “varsity” refers to, We didn’t know exactly what it meant.  So We looked it up.  Because that’s how We roll.  And now?  We DO know what it means.)

(Oh, did you expect Us to just TELL you?  Ask Our people.)

(Speaking of cunning linguistics, it occurred to Us recently, as We employed the word “freshman”, that that is one of the few words left unscathed by the scathing scythe of antisexism.  One says “congressperson” or “chairperson”, “firefighter” or “mail carrier” when One does not know the gender of same, but One continues to say “freshman” to refer to first-year college and high school students of either gender.  (First-year high school students do not, of course, for Our purposes, actually HAVE gender, and We never laid a fu(king hand on those kids!) We have never in Our lives (and We are willing to bet you haven’t either) used the word “freshwoman” to refer to a first-year student of the female persuasion (mainly because it sounds like part of the tagline from a  Summer’s Eve commercial),  although Our WorldWideInterWebNetz assures Us that it is a valid word. And We don’t imagine We’ll be switching over to “freshperson” any time soon.  Fortunately for YouPeople, this paragraph has become so long and convoluted that We are going to move on before We get to Our dissertation about “MANagement”.))

you’ve got the intensity you need to power through and stay focused on your end goal.  (Wow.  That sentence made Us tired just reading it.)

You even have your own personal cheerleader (We hope it’s a boy cheerleader.  With a really big megaphone.  Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah!  (What the fu(k does “sis-boom-bah” mean?  Cheerleading is stupid.))

who can give you the lift you need (OOOOooooohhhh!!!)

to keep your eye on the ball (Wait…he’s only got one ball?)

and stay positive. (Oh, well…that’s one ball more than Our current boyfriend.)

Pepper your day (If you want my gravy, pepper my ragout.)

with amusing diversions (Do perversions count as diversions? (Words are difficult.))

— you don’t have to be too serious to win.  (We thought it was “you don’t have to have presence to win.”)

You’ve got the number — now make the call! (Operators are standing by!)

Consider what you want to say for no longer than one minute and then pick up that phone. (Which is exactly how We always get Ourself in trouble.)

 If you’re feeling oddly shy, an email can get your message across.  (Whatever happened to good old fashioned billets-doux?)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes: )
Starzina Starfish-Browne was born in the wagon of a traveling show…well, okay, not really.  She was actually born in Lowake, Texas, the daughter of a beautician and either a garage mechanic or the town mailman.  At sixteen, she escaped her humble beginnings by running off with Doctor Browne’s Traveling Medicine Show and, more to the point, Doctor Browne. Following the dissolution of this unfortunate entanglement (Doctor Browne was a Virgo and Starzina is, of course, an Aries), which produced a daughter, Starzina entered a contest in Soap Opera Digest and won a scholarship to Oxford (yes, in ENGLAND), where she earned her doctorate in the newly-created dual major of Astrology and Human Sexuality.  There is absolutely NO TRUTH to the rumor that Starzina’s second daughter has Royal blood, despite tabloid photographs allegedly depicting her cavorting on the Italian Riviera with Princes William and Harry, clad only in Prussian helmets and armbands of questionable taste.  Starzina currently resides with her daughters in Philadelphia, the City That Loves You (On Your) Back, where she enjoys Double Coupon Day at the local SuperCruise and “encouraging” the coxswain of the Penn rowing team.