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Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The heels are alive...

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s!Weekly!Horoscope! for GoodPieRupeeTuesday,  Feblueary TwennyFourst, 2015.

As Our e-pisstles are clearly going unmissed, We shan’t belabor the point, except to say that, during Our absentia, We have completed one script, and are about to embark upon another. Idol hams are the Devil’s Worcestershire, and all that.

Happy Birthday, meanwhile, to Gerre, and to Jonathan, each of whom turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Also, Happy Birthday to Cathy, who turns twenty-four today in Pentral Cennsylvania.

There are so many belated birthdays that We aren’t going to list them all; We shall, rather, wish a Happy Belated Birthday to those hottie bois whom We are picturing in their birthday suits:

(We should point out, in the interests of clarity and full disclosure (parenthetically (hence the parentheses) it has just occurred to Us that the opposite of “clarity” should be “Aunt Claraty”)  that, in addition to the birthday suits of the bois below, We are most assuredly picturing the birthday suit of the aforementioned Jonathan as well.)

Happy Belated Birthday to BoBoB, Chris, David, Evan, Kyle, Lyle, Mark, Nick, Paul, and Rich, each of whom turned twenty-four somewhere on the planet prior to today and après Our last e-pisstle, and each of whom We are currently picturing in his birthday suit.

(Gentlemen:  if you are blushing at being pictured in your birthday suit, count your blessings that you are not being pictured in these: )

We should further point out that a number of the names above are shared by more than one birthday boi…there are, for example, no fewer than FIVE Chrisses who have had birthdays during this period.  We shall leave it to your fevered imaginations as to which of them We are picturing in their birthday suits. (Here’s a hint for the Chrisses: one of you whose birthday suit We are picturing should have one nipple tingling.)

In other news, We did naturally watch The Gay Super Bowl, aka The Oscars™, the other night.  Although We did switch over to Downton Abbey in the middle. It is par for the course that, in the ongoing train wreck that We refer to as “Our life”, the time while We were switched away was the time during which Neil Patrick Harris chose to appear in his underwear.  We are so used to missing out on such things that We managed to remain completely unfazed, while still imagining Our degree of fazedness had he (subjunctively) chosen that time to appear in Our underwear.

In other news, the murder mystery in which We are currently starring has been running for almost a year, and We will be playing in it on Friday, February 27th, and once or possibly twice in March, before it is closed on March 14.  We will not so much be appearing in the new one, so We will stop asking you to come see Us at that point.  You’re welcome.

Also, We are directing the classic comedy She Stoops to Conquer (clearly, someone has taken leave of their senses), which will open in April at the historic Powel House, and today is THE VERY LAST DAY on which you can donate to the  indiegogo fundraiser here:  

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

(That never happens.)

And here, just because We love it so, is Our earlier Pisces video with Justin Bieber:

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 , as if all of this excitement weren’t enough already, Abe Vigoda turns ninety-four today.  So, if you’ve been nakedly skimming and just stopped here by chance, picture THAT birthday suit.


The gods do indeed enjoy playing games with our lives—tempting us with power and driving us mad with hubris—but you they just enjoy seeing hit in the balls.


You'll suffer from a continuing inability to enjoy anything but the company of friends and family, the satisfaction of a job well done, and the knowledge that you have lived a life of dignity.


You'll finally find a man who loves you for who you are, but unfortunately he's every bit as miserable as you might expect.

If you had just one piece of wisdom to impart to future generations, it would probably be unspeakably filthy.


This is a time of great uncertainty for you, but that doesn't mean the odds of drawing to an inside straight will improve at all.


You're not the kind of person who lets your physical handicaps stop you, but that's because you prey on people with even fewer limbs than yourself, you sick bastard.


Artistic expression has never been your strength, so it's frankly mystifying when the National Gallery puts your margin doodles on display just to trash them.


Sometimes it's good to just sit back and watch the universe unfolding. But other times, such as next Tuesday, it's good to stop baby carriages from rolling in front of buses.


Due to your optimism, your death next week with come as a big surprise; however, due to your devout Christianity, what comes after will be a terrible shock.


A hot bowl of soup and a good night's sleep can cure many ills, it's true, but you might want to consider the possibility that you have the world's worst oncologist.


Unfortunately for your dream of having multiple gorgeous sex partners, attitudes toward sex will become much more open-minded just as attitudes toward nutrition and personal hygiene go right down the tubes.


This is a great time for romance in the workplace, if you're the sort of idiot who thinks that's even close to a good idea.

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.