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Monday, February 25, 2013

Do you hear the people sing people who need people?

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  JustAnotherMagicMikeWasn’tEvenNominatedMonday, February 25, 2013.  Oh, Our dears, this is going to be a long one!  (That being, We shouldn’t even have to point out, unless you are such a newb that they just took the wrappings off, What She Said.)  For the first time evah here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!, We are going to bring you complete Oscar™ coverage, except for those parts where We hadda go pee.  Because, as We have recently discovered, YouPeople do so prefer to follow Our bouncing ballz along when We have a point.

But first, some birthday wishes.  From Saturday, Happy Belated Birthday to Lyle and his sister, Lyell, each of whom turned twenty-four that day.  (You might think that would make them twins, but they are hardly identical.)  Happy Belated Birthday also to Susan, who also turned twenty-four On Saturday, and who is on the verge of becoming Our second-cousin-in-law.  (We have a chart that tells Us things like who’s a first, second, and third cousin, who’s removed, who’s an inlaw, who’s an outlaw, who’s on first, what’s on second, I don’t know’s on third…this is getting really long and We didn’t even get to the Oscars™ yet.)

Also from Saturday, Happy Belated Birthday to Chris and to Nick, who also turned twenty-four.  And from Sunday, Happy Belated Birthday to MizGerreGarrett and to Cathy, each of whom also turned (in an odd coincidence) twenty-four, and to Jonathan, who, marching to a differently-abled drummer as he does, did NOT turn twenty-four.  And, last but not Lee’s™ Press-On Nails, Happy Birthday to Len, who turns twenty-four today.

And now, ladies and genitals, the Oscars™!

First off, We must point out that We started off under the mistaken impression that the proverbial shit was to begin hitting the proverbial fan at 8PM Eastern Standard Time, so We are also able to report on a bit of the pre-show red carpet shenanigantics.    This consisted of several noted entertainment reporters, all dressed to the nines, asking every woman who wandered their way, “Who are you wearing?”  Our first sign that this was going to be a long, unrelenting evening was when not a single woman replied, “Ross Dress-for-Less…what’s it to ya?”

In addition to the noted entertainment reporters, this segment of the evening also involved, inexplicably, Kristen Chenowith, flitting about the celebs like a hyperactive mosquito with attention deficit disorder and a crack pipe, saying, “Bless your heart” a lot.  Now, while Kristen Chenowith is well-known on the Broadway stage, and has, in recent years, begun making inroads into television, We are hard-pressed to name A Kristen Chenowith Fillum.  Mainly because We don’t think there are any.  Also, she is weird looking and way too skinny.  Go away and eat a fucking sandwich, Kristen Chenowith.

Speaking of weird looking, Our apologies to People magazine and the rest of his fans, but We totally Do Not Get the Channing Tatum fascination.

The red carpet also marked the evening’s first (but by no means the evening’s LAST) appearance of Miss Jane Hathaway, who was, of course, nominated for Best Supporting Anorexic for Baguette’s Feast, or some other damn foreign fillum.  She was wearing a pale-pink dress through which One could clearly see her nipples, despite the fact that she has no breasts.  Mister Drysdale will certainly be giving her a talking-to in the morning.  Although Jethro no doubt had a boner.

For those who would like to (re-)read Our review of Miss Jane Hathaway's fillum, please see here:

Would We be showing Our age if We mentioned that we remember when Daniel Day-Lewis was hot?

Okay, so now We’re about to leave the red carpet and go start the show.   But first, for some reason, they want Us to know that the cast of Glee is  somehow the future of movie-making, and will be helping to present Oscars™ throughout the evening.  Also, lest We think that Kristen Chenowith has gone off somewhere to bite her husband’s head off after mating, they threaten Us that, if We stay awake throughout the entire proceedings, at the very end, she’s gonna SING to Us.  Because there’s nothing anybody ever wants more, after they’ve given out the very last Oscar™, than for the show to go on a while longer.

Okay, NOW We’re inside, and the show is starting, and Our first thought is, Day-um, Donny Osmond has had some work done!  But what the hell’s wrong with his hair? (We did, of course, ultimately realize that the host is not Donny Osmond, although We cannot be arsed, at this point, to remember who the hell it is.  However, during a commercial break, IMDB informed Us that he had every bit as much business appearing on the Oscars™ as Donny Osmond and/or Kristen Chenowith, and---)

WTF?!?  Is that William Shatner?  Why, yes…yes, it is.  Conveniently attired, for those who might not recognize him from his long and illustrious fillum career, in his Star Wars Trek uniform.  He is interacting with Donny Osmond in what is apparently Act Four of the evening’s opening.  “You don’t,” he intones, “want to be the first Oscars™ host to get a bad review.”  (Apparently, We are all supposed to have forgotten the 2011 debacle involving James Franco and Miss Jane Hathaway.)

Note to Self:  Since he refuses to become past tense, should his name be William Shitner?

Wow, this opening is long.  Like Wagner’s Ring Cycle long.  And equally funny.  For some reason, Channing Tatum and Charlize Theron dance during it.  The dance is well-executed, and mercifully brief.  Not, however, so brief that it doesn’t give Us time to realize that Channing Tatum and Charlize Theron have the same initials.  They could get married and nobody would need to buy them new towels.  Also, Channing Tatum is wearing, We shit you not, spats.  We don’t know why people wore spats back when people wore spats.  He looks even stupider than he looked on the red carpet.

Also dancing? Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Daniel Radcliffe.   We have dreams in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt dances with Daniel Radcliffe.  But (A.) they are not tap-dancing and (2.) they are not wearing tuxedos.

We trust We have given you some sense of just how long the opening was.  We are not, naturally, going to do an award-by-award description of the rest of the evening, as We are not being paid by the word; We shall just leave you with some kaleidoscopic impressions.

At some point early on That Fat Chick Who Is Making A Career Out Of Nothing Except Being That Fat Chick came out to present.  Hey, Fat Chick:  if you want Us to be politically correct, and NOT call you out for looking like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, you might wanna see to it that your stylists don’t dress you in some ill-fitting battleship gray shmata that makes Us think alternately of elephants and hippopotami.  KThxWaddleOff.

Is Dustin Hoffman making The Tony Bennett Story?

Whatever happened to Jamie Foxx’s eyebrows?

Damn…why was the Downton Abbey finale last week?  We could totally switch over to that.

Is there really an animatronic bear telling Jews-in-Hollywood jokes?  Really?

No Sound Design award for the sound people working this show…the orchestra consistently overpowered every single singer.  Until they got to the Les Miz part.  Which sounded a kabillion times better than the actual fillum.  Of course, the excerpts from Chicago and Dreamgirls only served to point out how wretched Les Miz really was.

Speaking of singers and animatronics, did anyone else find it bizarre that the nose that Barbra Streisand refused to have surgically altered for all those years is now the only thing on her face that has NOT been surgically altered?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.

Also, you GO, Shirley Bassey!  Also, Adele!  And this, it should be noted, especially by Elephant Fat Chick from earlier, is how a generously-proportioned woman needs to dress herself.  “Skyfall”, unfortunately, is a mediocre song at best, especially as Bond songs go, but who cares?  Adele has an Oscar™!

Meryl Streep, meanwhile, apparently picks her ass just like anybody else.

And, just as threatened, the evening ended with a song by Kristen Chenowith and Donny Osmond, full of jokes about the nominees who didn’t win Oscars™ that nobody could hear because the sound balance was so off.

Speaking of a thrill just to be nominated, We have released Our new Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope video for Pisces, which see above.  Here is the link with which you would share same with your friends, both Piscean and otherwise: .

Many of you will recall Our 2012 Pisces video, complete with guest appearance by Justin Bieber. Since We never tire of sharing that with Our adoring public, while We are waiting for Our invitation to go sailing on Mister Bieber’s yacht, here it is:

We repeated that paragraph in its entirety from the other day because We are still pondering what exactly the “sailing on Mister Bieber’s yacht” euphemism might actually mean.  Sigh.

We are out of time for today, so here are:

(Your Your-O-Scopes:

(Meanwhile, why We didn’t think of this sooner, We’ve got no idea, but better laid than necking, as they say (and how right they are!).  For real live actual ass(tromlaogical) ho(roscopular) advice, please visit Our good friend AstroGeek here:  Our Own epistular musings are of use to you only insofar as making you feel better by comparison, but he will give you actual pertinent advice for your very own lives, based on upon the positions and transitations of all manner of planets, planetoids, asteroids, Altoids™, hemorrhoids, and other heavenly flotsam, jetsam, and Jetsons.  Plus, he knows all about Uranus!)


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.