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Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Oh, what a beautiful moron…

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for GoodPieRupeeTuesday, April 8rd , 2014.

Happy Birthday to Helen, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles.  Also, Happy Birthday to Leon, who also turns twenty-four today, also right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  

Happy Birthday to Marc, who turns twenty-four today in Maine.  The rain in Maine is not the same as Spain.  As sung by Kurt Cobain.  In a remake of Citizen Kane. Starring Billy Zane. And Thomas Jane.  Written by the guy who wrote They Saved Hitler’s Brain.

(You’re wondering why We’ve never written a Broadway musical now, aren’t you?  We could, if We had any attention span whatso…oh, look, something shiny! (When you cockblock a worm, hold your haddock high, and don’t be afraid of Bert Parks…))

And, last but not Lee Strasberg, Happy Birthday to Richard, who turns twenty-four today.  In Rhode Island.  Which is, apparently, thirty-seven percent less funny than Maine.

And does not rhyme with Barbara Bain.

Okay, We’re done.  We will now be strapping on Our tool belt, so We can go next door and put an end to this never-ending kitchen renovation.  With a Molotov cocktail.  And a semi-automatic weapon.

Diligent Faithful Gentle Readers will recall Our lamentations yesterday about a nice thing that didn’t happen for Us on Friday.  As it happens, We have scratched the doing of two nice things off of Our calendar for today.  The difference between the nice things that We’re not doing and the nice thing that wasn’t done for Us is that the people for whom We would have been doing the nice things today had We chosen to go through with them would have had no way of expecting them, and, consequently, will not be able to lament their absence.

That, of course, assumes that you do not subscribe to that ridiculous theory that holds that, if a butterfly flaps its wings in China, you will have sex with Ashton Kutcher in New Jersey.  Because what the fuck would Ashton Kutcher be doing in New Jersey?

Speaking of China, We are shrilled and ignited to learn that Lex is still alive over there, and yet sorry to hear that some other Lex is dead.

Diligent Faithful Gentle Readers will also recall this promise from  yesterday:

“We were going to continue Our “things We want but can’t have” theme with a “guess-what-We-want-for-Our-birthday” contest, but that will probably have to wait, for the most part, till tomorrow.  (See…right away We give you something to which to look forward!)”

We should point out that this is merely a contest to see if anyone can figger out what We want…We do not imagine that anyone will actually get Us the thing in question, as it is really more the sort of thing a Significant Otter would get for One.  (It is unclear to Us what makes one Otter more Significant than any Other Otter, but that’s a Whore Of Another Color.)

A few hints…it is in fact something tangible, not something like “peace on Earth” or “a boyfriend who looks like Chord Overstreet”.  (Although on second thought, “a boyfriend who looks like Chord Overstreet” would hopefully BE tangible, because what the hell good would he be if you couldn’t tange him?)  You would need to know something about current events to get it, and it will only be available for a limited time.

Okay, start guessing, while We start thinking up a prize in case anyone wins.
In other news, We are doing another installment of Our radio play thingie on Thursday at seven.  Please see info here , and get your tickets quickly, because there is extremely limited seating.  (And We’re not kidding about that…it takes place in the ballroom of an historic Philadelphia house, and We could pretty much only get one ball in there.)

We find Ourselves (not that We were looking for Us, but it’s a figger of speech) in the glorious sign of Aries, the harbinger of Spring and the anniversary of Our Own Personal nativity.  Our Aries video is above, and here is the link with which you may share it with your friends:

Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is Our previous Aries video, featuring Our mother, Rosie Starfish, for comparison:

Also also, now that We have left Pisces, We need to randomly mention Johnny Depp, to return him to Number One Cited Celebrity status here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!  We wouldn’t want him to get mad.

And here’s the HorrorScope:

It’s all about your love life today (Well, that damn butterfly bettah step to flappin’, then.)

— no matter how fast or slow it’s felt lately. (On the scale of “fast” to “slow”, where does One find “nonexistent”?)

Things start to pick up between you and your sweetie — or, if you’re single, you are sure to catch someone’s eye!   (Well, you know what They say:  people with glass eyes shouldn’t throw them at stone houses.)

(Who ARE “They”, and why does anyone listen when They talk?)

Here we go with the extra energy thing — as if you ever needed any ‘extra’ energy. (Once you’ve tried crack, you’ll never go back.)


You’ll be running on high, so it’s really only fair to let everyone around you know they might be in danger  (Molly, you in danger, gurrrllll.)

(Oh, please.  Like you weren’t thinking the same thing.)

— but only if they decide to disagree with you. Or argue with you about the outcome of a certain situation. Or get between you and a project you’re determined to finish. Other than that, you’re not dangerous at all.  (Tell that to my next door neighbor, when I kick in his front door and start using my Uzi.)

(Is it just Us, or does “using my Uzi” remind anyone else of “leggo my Eggo™”?)

(Just Us?  Alrighty, then.)

Generosity isn’t always about money.  (Of course not.  Sperm donors are generous.)


Sometimes being benevolent means you just give someone you like your undivided attention and really listen instead of zoning out or thinking up zingers. (Or thinking up sentences with lots of zeds in them.  Like “Zany zither players zeroing in on Zanzibar” or “That’s a zesty zucchini inside Zac Efron’s zipper”.)

Namaste, MotherFuckers.

In gaseousness,

Starzina Starfish-Browne

(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.