Hello, Ducks!
Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your
Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for Friday,
March 1th, 2013. In like a limepicker,
out like a labradorbreeder. Whatever
that means. Old sayings are quaint, but
largely devoid of meaning. Happy Saint
David’s Day to all of Our UKian readers.
(And, by word association, to Our Ukranian readers, should We chance to
have any readers in Ukrania.) We are not
exactly certain who Saint David is, and We were under the impression that Protestants
didn’t have saints. However, that may just be what they taught Us
in Catholic school. Lord knows (heh),
they lied about everything else.
In birthday wishes news, Happy Birthday to
Brie, who turns twenty-four right here in The City Of Brotherly Love-Handles. Also, Happy Birthday to Claudia, who also
turns twenty-four today, in a suburb of The City Of Brotherly Love-Handles. Also also, Happy Birthday to Justin, who also
also turns twenty-four today, somewhere in New Jersey. Part of which is a suburb of The City Of Brotherly
Love-Handles, and part of which is a suburb of Manhattan. The rest of it is Atlantic City and the Pine
Barrens. You think MATH is hard? GEOGRAPHY is hard.
And, last but not Lee Strasberg, Happy
Birthday to Devon, who turns twenty-four today all the way up in Greater
Bostonia. Devon is an actor/director,
which is why We put that Lee Strasberg joke in there. Because We’re topical that way. Like a rash.
Speaking of actor/directors, please go and
join Our SitOnOurFaceBook event here:
In random other news, the gas bill We wanted
to pay yesterday but could not find?
Arrived in yesterday’s mail. We
know you were concerned.
This just in from Our roving reporter, Debris
Huxtable: apparently, if you go to
Google and type in “why do people h”, Google autosuggests “why do people hate
Anne Hathaway”.
Which segues just as well as anything else to
today’s topic, Sexism At The Oscars™:
The kerfuffle apparently continues over Oscar™
host Donny Osmond’s song “We Saw Your
Boobs”. (A second kerfuffle (can you
tell that We love that word?) also continues among those who mistook the host
for middle child Peter Brady. We Our Own
Self Personally are now aware that the host was neither Peter Brady nor Donny
Osmond, but We still have no idea who the fuck he was, or what he had to do
with the movies.)
Now, We are not one to throw gasoline on a
kerfuffle fire, so We will not be reproducing said song here. We will, however, show you something you
might not have seen, a distaff response from the WorldWideInterWebnetz. Ladies and Genitals, “We Saw Your Junk”:
As with the original, Our major objection to
this is that it is a one-shot, ten-second joke stretched out over a minute and
a half. Which is not a long time on
YouTube, but is an eternity on (inter)national television. Add to that the fact that it was a part of the
already-nine-hour-long opening, and it is a mystery to Us how it didn’t wind up
on the cutting room floor.
However.
There are two arguments being advanced in
opposition to the number which, in addition to teetering on the brink of
insanity, also oil the kerfuffle’s slippery slope slide towards censorship and Saint-David-knows
what else. (We are going to drag “kerfuffle” in here till you learn to love it
as We do, so you might as well just relax and enjoy it.)
The first folks with their panties in a bunch
are all like, “But many of those women whose boobs you saw were playing sexual
abuse/rape victims!”
Well, yes.
Yes, they were. Lettuce take the
example of Jodie Foster in The Accused,
whose character was indeed being violently raped when We allegedly saw her
boobs. (Note that We say “allegedly” because,
although We most definitely saw The
Accused, the thing We remember most about it is not whether We saw Jodie
Foster’s boobs or not.) The song says, “Jodie
Foster, We saw your boobs”, much as a six-year-old might. A simple statement of fact. It does NOT, as the naysayers would have you
believe, say, “Jodie Foster, when you were being gang-raped on the pool table,
We saw your boobs, and that was really HAWTT!”
If it DID say that, We would certainly have a
problem with it. For the obvious
reasons, as well as the fact that JODIE FOSTER was not being gang-raped on a
pool table. Jodie Foster’s CHARACTER was
being gang-raped on a pool table. Jodie
Foster was doing her (Oscar™-winning) job, executing meticulous, well-rehearsed
choreography, and premeditatedly exposing herself to whatever extent she had
contractually agreed to prior to filming the movie, while preserving her
personal modesty to whatever extent she had contractually negotiated. If her boobs were shown, she agreed to show
them, and We saw them.
This conflation of actor and character is deeply
disturbing, especially when displayed by supposedly intelligent people in the
industry. It explains, parenthetically,
why Miss Jane Hathaway has a Best Supporting Anorexic Oscar™: voters were all like, “Awwww…she lost her
job, and had to become a whore to support her child, and then she had to sell
her hair, and her teeth, and to top it all off, she died.” Um, no.
That was her CHARACTER, Pantene.
Miss Jane Hathaway had the cushiest job in that forty-seven hour movie, because she was only onscreen for seventeen
seconds, and only had to learn one song.
Jeebus.
The other argument being advanced by the
anti-boob-seeing crowd is even more ludicrous, speaking as it does of the
creation of a hostile work environment.
Seriously folks? The aforementioned
Miss Jane Hathaway came to the Oscars™ ceremony in a dress that was HELD ON by
her nipples, even though she doesn’t have boobs. Every
woman in the place was displaying her boobs to their best advantage in whatever
way possible. Some of them had no doubt
purchased boobs for the occasion. And to
try to equate the “workplace” of a Hollywood actress who agrees to show her
boobs onscreen for millions of dollars to the workplace of an IHOP waitress whose
boss corners her in the kitchen and demands to see her boobs so she can keep
her job is, how you say, disingenuous at best.
We have not done the dramaturgy, but the song
WOULD collapse under its own weight if any of the actors named therein had
shown only ONE boob, in which case We would not have accurately saw “your boobS”.
And, of course, no mention of cinematic boobs
would be complete without a mention of the greatest boob scene of all time,
Dame Julie Andrews in SOB. We tried and failed to find a YouTube
clip of same, but trust Us.
Speaking of boobs, 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: http://youtu.be/KMNgwWwNux8 .
Here are the HorrorScopes:
Also on the subject of boobs…er, biebs, it is
Justin Bieber’s birthday, so naturally, here is Our Pisces video from last year
in which he appears:
Try your best to open yourself up to the
people in your life today (Oh, We are WIDE open. Fully dilated, if you will. Or even if you won’t…what makes you think it’s
all about you? Or about you at all? WE’VE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH OF YOU!!!)
— that’s what your energy is best at right
now. (You make it sound as though “Our
energy” could do stuff on its own. If
so, can We go lie down?)
It could mean that you’ve got to push your
own needs down on the priority list. (Mmm-hmm. THAT could happen. Right after We show you Our boobs.)
The
world’s energy is feeling quite a bit louder right now, and it might create
some stress in your day. (Okay, is it
just Us, or is she now just randomly using the word “energy” to mean anything
she wants it to mean? It’s not like it’s
“kerfuffle” or something.)
Don’t be surprised (SURPRISE!!!)
if you start feeling unusually introverted (That always happens when We show Our boobs.)
— nothing will appeal to you more than
crawling into bed and hiding away from the world. (Well, We wouldn’t say NOTHING. There’s always Johnny Depp covered in Hershey’s™
syrup.)
This isn’t necessarily a case of the blues,
more like a case of the blahs. (Also,
not necessarily a case of the chartreuses, more like a case of the chanteuses. (Okay, her way worked better…they can’t ALL
be winners.))
Honor your feelings by trying to escape from
the hubbub that is going on around you. (It’s not a hubbub, it’s a KERFUFFLE! Jeebus!
Try to pay attention.)
Find out if someone else can take on some of
your hassles. (Who handles David
Hasselehoff’s hassles? (It’s mental
tangents like that that will probably keep Us from ruling the world. Although We are still in the running for
Pope. And We have the hottest gown for the
inaugural ball…it really shows off Our boobs.))
A little blood flow will boost your hotness
factor. (Fine…whom should We stab?)
(What?)
Who knows what kind of hottie you’ll attract?
Some boob-lover with a death-wish, no doubt.)
(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: http://agskylab.blogspot.com/. 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.
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