Presenting the astrological world's first Ganjascope, a timeless foretelling that reveals your past, present, and future at once. We take the logical out of astrological
Penultimate Day Campaign Updates
Recently Postcards from the Pug Bus petitioned the National Day Calendar to designate December 30 each year as National Penultimate Day. For the ultimate and the penultimate news about that campaign, click here.
The Grammar Prick
Meaner than a powdery-smelling, dried-up, old-biddy Language Arts teacher, The Grammar Prick will split your head if you split an infinitive.
Visit The Grammar Prick
Postcards the Book
The book that inspired a website was written by someone who was actually raised by pugs, Postcards is a welcome addition to any nightstand.
Some photos cannot be shopped. They are perfect just the way god made them. Such perfection does not happen by accident, and wise, indeed, is the man who says "you can't photoshop this.""
The Fuck It List
Ten Things You Should Fllip the Bird to Before You Die
3. Seat Belts
4. FOX News
5. Paying for Music and Movies
6. Your Bucket List
7. Pissing Indoors
9. Stupid-ass Old Fart Hats
10. Going to Bed Early
Trigger warning! The content of this website may cause raging panic attacks in hypersensitive snowflakes who suffer from androphobia, galactophobia, emetophobia, corprophobia, claustrophobia, fear of taints, and other psycho-sexual maladies too numerous to mention.
Don't Call Me a White Person Anymore Aug 26, 2019 - 11:00
Recently I was informed by the entrail readers at 23&Me that I am no longer 1/500 sub-Saharan African or any other non-white subgroup. I was gutted by this revelation. "Yo, homie," I thought, "there goes your street cred and your offensive explanations for your curly hair and fondness for Korean fried chicken."
Then I heard another voice in my head, a decidedly WASPish voice, no mean feat for someone who is 79.6 percent Italian, per 23&Me.
"Remember, old sport," the voice began, "your are still the editor in briefs of the least influential website in southeastern Pennsylvania; but that's no excuse for being lumbered with a toxic ethnicity, viz., caucasian.
White person plays to unfortunate stereotypes: the chap with three teeth and a moth-eaten beard who's married to his cousin and who rides around in his pickup all day drinking Bud Lights and tossing the empties out the window—or some oaf with a row-house mentality, a hockey jersey, and a goatee who likes to go "coon huntin'" with his buddies on the weekend.
Lest anyone accuse me of striking an elitist pose, I should hasten to point out that some of my best friends are white people. I often tease them by calling them "creepy-ass crackers," and they don't mind at all. They might not like it if a person of color wearing one of those hooded thingies complained that he was being followed by a "creepy-ass cracker," but the rules of ethnic reference are a horse of another color and a topic for another conversation, I fear.
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The Pug Bus Blogs On
Although he no longer self-identifies with the basket of deplorables, our editor in briefs is still considered a basket case—and deplorable—in many precincts. He is determined to outlive that twat Mick Jagger, and he believes, to paraphrase Phish, "You've got one life, blog on!"