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
Join the Pug Bus in its crusade to have December 30 declared National Penultimate Day. Our goal is to rescue penultimate from the puss-warted clutches of abusers of the language. What's more, we can give that snooty "Auld Lang Syne" business a well-deserved kick in the shorts. For the ultimate—and the penultimate—news about our glorious campaign, click here.
The Grammar Prick
Meaner than a dried-up, old-biddy Language Arts teacher, The Grammar Prick will split your head if you split an infinitive or if you dare misuse penultimate. 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 Quit While Not Going Gently into That Good Night
3. Seat Belts
4. FOX Fucking News
5. Paying for Music and Movies
6. Your Stinking Bucket List
7. Pissing Indoors
8. Hugging Anyone You're Not Fucking
9. Stupid-ass, Dip-Shit, Old Fart Hats
10. Bathing or Showering Regularly
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.
Reverse Engineering Your Horoscope Nov 30, 2015 - 12:50
The notion that you share character traits with other people with whom you share a sign is a crock of shit. The people who are getting off the bus the same day you are getting on wield a much greater influence on your development. So, if today is your birthday, you were born on the same day that Oscar Wilde, Evel Knievel, Tiny Tim, and a boatload of other stiffs croaked. Read their obituaries carefully. You'll learn a lot more than you will from reading stupid predictions like these.
Virgo (8/23-9/22): You design a new indoor rodeo event that involves a left-handed oven mitt with the tips of the fingers cut off, a giant-economy-size tube of K-Y Jelly, and the cooperation of a clown named Sidesaddle. Your bold introduction of this event at the Optimist Club’s annual "Christmas Cheers for the Children" party is a brilliant stroke of counterprogramming, but charges filed against Sidesaddle following that appearance may ultimately prove embarrassing.
Libra (9/23-10/23): Paper is the ruling element in your celestial scrapbook, but this emergence leads to several questions: Will you achieve fame as a paperback writer, or will you merely suffer the slings and harrows of a thousand paper cuts? Good questions, but why the hell are you asking me? I’m not an astrologer; I only play one on the internet.
Scorpio (10/24-11/21): Life deals you a painful wedgie when you receive an invitation to the nuptials of someone close to you who is getting remarried—your current spouse. Toward the end of a lonesome, execrable month your prayers are finally answered. Unfortunately the answer is a flat out No!, and it arrives with the notation "dictated but not read" beneath what obviously is a hand-stamped facsimile of God’s signature.
Sagittarius (11/22-12/21): The dual-action hair-growth-facilitator-and-mood-enhancer currently on sale at wegotyourdrugs.com provides a whimsical subtext to your ongoing cosmic narrative. The cheerful simplicity of this dot.com's motto—"No doctors, no questions, no waiting"—appeals to your propensity for self-medication. We suggest, however, that you read the instructions carefully or you might wind up bearing a devastating resemblance to Bill Cosby.
Capricorn (12/22-1/19): Like most Capricorns you exhibit all the elan of a penguin. You prefer solitaire to bridge, pigeons to peacocks, Lawrence Welk to the Village People. You're so boring you have to hire a designated drinker to enliven your parties. We suggest you have a lot of kids. They'll give you something to talk about.
Aquarius (1/20-2/18): Your children and your significant other begin a board-game version of Survivor that turns grim when they try to barbecue the hamster and fillet the goldfish. After a month of increasingly hostile competition, your family votes to expel you from "their" house. When you tell them "it's only a game," they burn all your clothes and cut the telephone wires.
Pisces (2/19-3/20): Distressed by your growing inability to remember appointments, colleagues' names, the words to "American Pie," and where you put the car keys, you purchase the Larry King Ginko Biloba Memory Kit. Your friends, who had begun calling you "sieve for brains," are impressed with your new-found ability to recall the tiniest details of Mr. King's life.
Aries (3/21-4/19): Complications arising from a severe case of food poisoning destroy your ability to speak in the past tense. Your affliction seems charming and benign until a man in a pizzeria hears you say, "I get the stromboli when I’m here last week." This causes him to mistake you for Vinnie Stugotz, a mob informant in the witness protection program. We leave town fast if we are you.
Taurus (4/20-5/20): Troubled by your lack of formal education, you enroll in Degrees for Dollars, a virtual university that awards degrees based on a student's life experiences. After reviewing your application and waiting for your check to clear, the dean's council votes to grant you a Bachelor of Arts in Compromising Positions, providing you allow them to keep the pictures.
Gemini (5/21-6/21): Your suit against the Fowl Weather Friend Corporation over a malfunctioning pop-up thermometer on an oven-roaster chicken finally comes to trial. The proceedings are compromised, however, when a copy of "Jury Selection for Dummies" falls from your lawyer's briefcase as he's making his way into the courtroom. Later in the trial O.J. Simpson appears as a witness for the defense.
Cancer (6/22-7/22): Because nothing succeeds like finesse, you needn't let your inability to relate to other human beings or your flippant disregard for their feelings stand in the way of professional advancement. Indeed, these traits are virtually prerequisites for success in any quarter of the service economy and in many divisions of the healing arts and the legal profession as well.
Leo (7/23-8/22): A natty-looking stranger stops you on the street and asks you if you want to buy a vowel. Have him pronounce the vowel first to make sure it isn't a knockoff, which will make any word it's used in unintelligible. Beware, too, the "sometimes" vowels, whose limited applications don’t justify their price.