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Monday, January 12, 2015

Everything old is nude again

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s!Weekly!Horoscope! for JustAnotherManacledManicuristManiacallyManhandlingManchurianManateesMonday,  January Twelvest, 2015.

Happy Birthday to Mark, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back. 

Happy Birthday also to Skip, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere in the suburbs of The City Of Brotherly Love Handles.

Happy Belated Birthday, meanwhile, to Cynthia, and Alexander, and John, and Zachary, and Josh, and Fernando, and Bill, and Vinnie, and Harmony, and Patricia, and Drusilla, each of whom turned twenty-four this past week.

Yes, We said “this past week”.  We last e-pisstled last Monday, and, oddly enough, despite the absence of e-pissodes, the hit count for that e-pisstle never rose again, and not a single Gentle Reader inquired as to Our whereabouts or Our well-being.


We’re fine, thanks for not asking.  We had three nights at the Murder Mystery Factory, a three-day visit from bae (that’s what The Kidz are calling it, yes?), and a broken furnace.

Somewhere in the middle of said week, a friend in Hollyweird sent out a SitOnMyFaceBook request that people watch and Cher his new video, which We promptly did (as One, We thought, does (and are doing again here, which see:))

This activity, it will not surprise you to learn, caused Us to reflect upon the fact  that We share Our Own Personal videos every day, both on people’s SitOnMyFaceBook pages for their birthdays, and in these e-pisstles, wherein We request that Our Gentle Readers Cher them.  To wit:

“Here is the link with which you may share Our Capricorn video with both of your friends:

That never happens.

Needless to say (and yet, saying it anyway), We were a bit discouraged by this turn of events.  However, in Our ongoing efforts to be One Of Those People who turns chicken shit into chicken salad,  We wondered to Ourself what all else We might be writing if We weren’t (subjunctively) e-pisstlitizing there e-pisstles e-very day.

Welcome, consequently, to Eric’s!Weekly!Horoscope!, which astute Gentle Readers who are NOT naked skimmers will have already noticed up at the beginning there.  (Have We mentioned recently how very many of Our Gentle Readers We’ve seen naked?  Because We have.)

Speaking of nakediditty, who could resist this Justin Bieber story?  :‏


It just this minute occurred to Us to go look at what, if any, e-pissodes of these e-pisstles people were looking aat while We were amongst the missing, and We came across this e-xcerpt from 2012, which had the most hits for the week:

We would not, of course, ordinarily be e-pisstlitizing in here on a SayerDee (or, if We were, We’d be intro-ing one of Our Very Special Video Retrospective E-pissodes), but something monumentally cataclysmic has transpired, and We felt compelled to come and Cher.

There is a pimple on Our buttock.

Not just ANY pimple, mind you.  (Not just ANY buttock, either…Our LEFT buttock.)  This is a pimple of such staggering proportions as to leave all other pretender-to-the-game-of-thrones pimples in the dust by comparison.  This pimple on Our left buttock is so monumentally ginormous that it could actually be an auxiliary buttock all its own.  Which would, it would seem, give Us three buttocks, causing Us, no doubt, to list to one side, and making Us, essentially, Fred MacMurray in My Three Buttocks,  with William Demarest as Uncle Charlie, and what was up with all those old TV shows where random men just lived together without a woman anywhere to be found, and how sad is it that We knew William Demarest’s name without having to look it up?

But back to Our pimple, which makes even the preceding paragraph look small by comparison.  If Our left buttock were (subjunctively) Mount Rushmore, this pimple would be Chester A. Arthur.  Who is not, of course, actually ON Mount Rushmore, but We’re fairly sure he was the really fat President, unless that was William Howard Taft, but We can’t be bothered to look it up.  (We did, however, just look up William Demarest, and We learned that, if he were (subjunctively) still alive, he would be a hundred and twenty years old.  THERE’S a brain cell We’ll never get back.)  Our point being that they would need the fattest President they could find to represent this pimple if Our left buttock were (subjunctively) Mount Rushmore.

All this talk of Our left buttock is, as you would assume, making Us think of the Daniel Day-Lewis fillum, My Left Foot, in which Mister Day-Lewis portrays some real-life character with a crippling disease so very crippling that he can only control his left foot, so he takes up painting.  Instead of, you know, something useful, like feeding himself, or wiping his ass, or having a wank.  This, of course, makes him famous, and his life gets made into a movie with Daniel Day-Lewis in it.  Daniel Day-Lewis wins an Oscar™, presumably to the sound of crippled painter guy’s one foot clapping.

Now, We are not suggesting that Our left buttock could hold a candle to Daniel Day-Lewis’s left foot.  (Actually, We’re fairly certain that Our left buttock couldn’t hold a candle at all, whereas Daniel Day-Lewis’s left foot no doubt could.  (It also strikes Us, just now, parenthetically, that Mister Day-Lewis’s character in that fillum must have been really bad at the Hokey-Pokey.))  We ARE, however, saying that, if you hold a canvas back there when this pimple finally pops, We will SHOW you a painting.

All together now:  eeeeuuuuwwwww!!!!!

And here, for your further edification, is Our very first Capricorn video:

Upon reflection, these two videos are amongst Our much more densely-plotted cinematic efforts, due to the fact that Our director actually is a Capricorn (although quite unlike the unseen character from the videos).

We often ponder, in the endless time afforded to Us by the fact that We are almost universally ignored, how many of Our Gentle Readers actually realize that, if viewed in order, Our videos actually have ongoing plots and storylines. 

Moving on, didja know that We have been e-pisstling e-pissodes of these e-pisstles in one form or another since 2001?  And that the earliest dead-tree archival records from 2004 are now TEN YEARS OLD, and can be found (for a small fee) here:  ? 

Thank Gawd We didn’t stray from the point.


In celebrity birthday news, We were concerned that YouPeople were all making your way to your workplaces in the middle of the back-alley abortion that is today’s weather, until We realized that it is Zayn Malik’s birthday, so you probably all have the day off.

Avoid the impulse to critique every little thing today (That is the stupidest thing We’ve ever heard.)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

— there are enough people doing that! (Yes, but We do it the best.)

Just make sure that you’re available when others ask you for advice. (Why?  What did these “others” ever do for Us?)

Then you can be free with criticism.  (Actually, We’re awfully good at criticism…it would be nice if We could find a way to charge for it.)

You need to face it (This face seats five.  Also, this face is leaving in two minutes…be on it.)

 — you are just feeling less energetic than usual today, (We’re pretty sure that the only thing less energetic than We usually are is death.  Are We dead?  Because if We’re dead, We can probably stop typing, yes?)

(Of course, as far as most of Our Gentle Readers know, We could have been dead all last week.)

and it shows. (Good lord…is this still the same sentence?)

(It just occurred to Us that We mentioned Justin Bieber earlier, and didn’t put Our Justin Bieber video in here.  So here ya go.  (Don’t Cher it with nobody or nothin’.)):

How can you get your groove back? (Ask Stella.)

(That right there was a litter-hairy illusion.  ‘Cause We’re cultured and shit.)

There are two equal and opposite actions you could take. (There usually are.  But as Our ass(tromalogical) ho(roscopulist), shouldn’t you be telling Us which one to choose?)

The first is to simply rest (In pieces?  (See earlier death reference.))

— especially if you’ve been overworked lately. (Not to mention underpaid.)

The second is to force yourself to get moving, especially if you’ve been the lethargic lately. (Justin Bieber’s Underoos™!)

(We have no idea.)

Whichever you choose, act soon!  (Well, DUH.  Call before midnight tonight, and get a free set of Ginsu steak knives.  To cut up your Ginsu steak with.  (What the hell kind of animal is a Ginsu?))

Don’t pass up an offer to join your pal on a double date. (But if he’s already on a double date, wouldn’t that make Us a fifth wheel?)

Although past experience tells you to avoid it like the plague, give this one a chance. (All We are saying is, “Give peas a chance”.)

(We’re not really saying that.  We hate peas.  Always have.)

Even if the romance falls short, you’ll meet someone new and interesting. (Is anyone else thinking Zayn Malik wearing Justin Bieber’s Underoos™?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.)

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.