Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, May 18, 2011. Happy birthday to Gregory G0D DAMN! G., who turns twenty-four today all the way up in The Witch City. Which (heh) is, of course, less of a Witch City than it might be, as We Our Own Self Personally are not currently IN said city. But We’re sure it’s plenty witchy all the same. Gregory’s birthday is made all the more special this year by falling on Hump Day, so, in addition to Our felicitations on the anniversary of his nativity, We wish him a most excellent hump. (In the interests of Our Gentle Readers who have not had the privilege of meeting Gregory, which would be, We are pretty certain, most of you, We offer this viZZZual aid, which long-term readers will recall We have employed before: Gregory is the love-child of Christian Slater and the late lamented River Phoenix. He is also a poet, but he DOES know it, so that joke doesn’t go as well as it might otherwise.)
Parenthetically (We observed, with a curious dearth of parentheses), the late lamented River Phoenix, were he (subjunctively) neither late nor lamented (well, actually, the “lamented” part really doesn’t enter into it)…were he (subjunctively) not late (We trust We haven’t muddled the thread So badly that you don’t realize that, by “late”, We don’t mean “the opposite of early”, but rather “deceased” (where were We? Oh, let’s just start over…)) Parenthetically (actually, by this point, multiparenthetically (which appears not to be a word…quelle surprise)), the late lamented River Phoenix, were he (subjunctively) not late, would currently be forty years old. Put THAT in your hypodermic needle and mainline it.
The structure of the preceding paragraph was in honor of Joe (hi, Joe), for reasons which will become clear to the rest of you in just two short days. Because We have that power. Stay tuned Friday for Our Rapture Eve announcement.
(Is it just Us, or does the phrase “Rapture Eve” remind YOU of “Summer’s Eve™” too? “Rapture Eve…for that ‘not-so-fresh’ feeling.” Now THERE’S a whole new concept in feminine hygiene.)
Speaking of The Rapture, We trust you’ve got all your shopping done, and your tree trimmed, and your presents wrapped. We Our Own Self Personally are thinking of stuffing a turkey for The Rapture Day dinner. Because nothing says “The Rapture” like cramming fistfuls of stuffing up some turkey’s ass. (Which is also, coincidentally, a fairly accurate description of Our twenty-first birthday party. But We digress…) Meanwhile, it turns out that, following The Rapture, when all the good folks ascend directly to Heaven at 6PM time zone by time zone, there will follow a five-month period during which Gawd will destroy the Earth via earthquakes, sulfur storms, and some other horrific disaster the memory of which currently eludes Us, but which may involve cans of aerosol cheese and reruns of Fantasy Island. So what the religious whackadoodle wingnuts would have Us believe is that Gawd, after having hundreds of thousands of new folks move into His house, will have nothing better to do than to destroy the rest of Us, and that it will take Him FIVE MONTHS to do so? Pffffttt…”All-Powerful”, Our heinie hole. Mind you, We wouldn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with those particular houseguests either, but if We were (subjunctively) Gawd, it certainly wouldn’t take Us five months to destroy a puny little planet.
But enough about The Rapture. As We mentioned earlier, stay tuned for Our Rapture Eve douche…er, announcement, which is gonna Rawk. Your. World.
And now, before We give in to The Temptations and spill the magic beans before their time, The HorrorScope:
You can lead the way once again — that is, if you’re not getting tired of that role! (Oh, please. We are so tired today, We couldn’t lead a pack of rabid dogs if We had a steak stapled to Our ass. (That sound you hear? Is all of Our vegetarian readers puking. We’re not sure whether it’s due to the steak or Our ass.))
It’s a really good day (Mmm-hmm. Again with the forty days of rain. Perhaps The Rapture people got it wrong, and Gawd is just gonna drown all Our sorry asses. (Hmm…more puking, and there was no steak in that sentence. Well, that answers THAT question.))
for you to show your people (Honey, if We had people, We’d let THEM lead the rabid dogs.)
that the new is more exciting than the old. (Also, the nude is less exciting IF it’s old. (G0ddammit, you vegetarians, STOP THAT!))
You need a stimulating dose of culture today. (Right after Our Geritol™.)
Go investigate a new show at an art museum, walk down an aisle that you don’t usually check out at the record store, (“The record store”? What the hell is “the record store”? Even WE are not old enough to say “the record store” in any non-historical context. Hello, Kelli? 1979 called, and it wants its horoscope back.)
or just enjoy dinner at an ethnic restaurant you’ve never tried before. (We are on a diet. Perhaps We’ll go out for Ethiopian food.)
You are in control. (That’s what YOU think. We accidentally mixed Our Midol™ with speed…We’ve had Our period six times today so far.)
Surround yourself with exotic strangers today. (There is just no way that following that advice could end well.)
Check out that wild new restaurant or introduce yourself to a new neighbor who just moved here from far away. (Your daughter’s pregnancy has brought much happiness to Our village. Let Us rejoice, and then go to The Record Store.)
(Then let Us come home, and cram an 8-track tape into the BetaMax™.)
The foreign influence is exactly what you need! (Mais oui. Bitch.)
It occurs to Us that We have been remiss in mentioning Himself’s endeavors (or, indeed, come to think of it, Himself), so We should point out that, following their critically acclaimed sold-out performance at Helium Comedy Club in March, the WaitStaff Sketch Comedy Stormtroopers will triumphantly return to same on June 1th, and would love to see you there. Further info can be found here: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=216397555056276 Tickets here: https://www.seatengine.com/venue/helium-comedy-club/event/471
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.