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Your Horoscope
Week of July 21
(Ramp Accessible)
Born this week you might be a Cancer, you might be a Leo, or you might experience a disconcerting growth spurt in one of your vestigial organs. No matter, your chances for a normal life are better than Rory Culkin's, 24, or Conor Kennedy's, 18, both of whom have birthdays this week.
Mr. Culkin will eventually take his own life after he can no longer stand being mistaken for his brothers Kieran, Macauley, and Nostrodomus. Mr. Kennedy, aside from being saddled with a tragically cliched first name, must also fight the ravages of the industrial-strength STD he caught from Taylor Swift.


Cancer (June 22–July 22) Your financial prospects are so wretched you can only afford the new Vin Disel Fast & Furious grill on a time-sharing arrangement with a family that's overly fond of road-kill. Later in the month a fifteen-pound newborn canary named Junior will escape from his cage and imprint on you.

Leo (July 23–Aug. 22) Your sex life is a shareware program about to expire. One-size-fits-all gloves don't come in your size. If dreams took human form, yours would be wearing toe tags.

Virgo (Aug. 23–Sept. 22) Car A leaves Hollywood at 9:00 a.m. on Monday. Car B leaves Bangor, Maine, at the same moment. Car A, which has a 15-gallon gas tank and averages 19.6 miles per gallon, is driving east. Car B, which has a 17.5-gallon tank and averages 18.9 miles per gallon, is driving west. After three days, what color is car B?

Libra (Sept. 23–Oct.23) Like most Librans you are a sniveling complainer, unable to get your mind around the fact that we are all responsible for our own karma. Perhaps the mess that is your present life is but your last request from a previous existence. Try to discover why you were executed in that existence and what your first requests were.

Scorpio (Oct. 24–Npv. 21) According to the George Zimmerman Random Actuarial Profiler, where "10" equals "dead-bolt cinch" and "0" equals "dead in the street," your critical numbers for this week are: communicable disease, 8; grace under fire, 3; plays well with others, 1; inappropriate response 9; cannot recommend for advancement, 8.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22–Dec. 21) Sagittarians are ruled by the buttocks, the seat of all power. Their gemstone is porcelain, their favorite time of day is right after meals, and they prize regularity above all other virtues.

Capricorn (Dec. 22–Jan. 19) Capricorns suffer from automonosis—the tendency to become bored with one's own company. If you hanker to get away from yourself, here's a tip: you don't have to die in order to be reincarnated. If you don't like who you are, become somebody else. There are companies that advertise in the backs of magazines that will help you.

Aquarius (Jan. 20–Feb. 18) Your life is a run-on sentence that is out of control and greatly in need of editing. Learn to appreciate the nuances of subordinate clauses and the hierarchical conjunctions that exist among colons, semicolons, commas, and em dashes.

Pisces (Feb. 19–March 20) Ever the cynic you have no trouble believing it isn't butter; that some minds would not be a terrible thing to waste; and that maybe you don't deserve a break today. You also have a highly developed sense of irony, which leads you to walk around muttering "I see living people" in a tiny, traumatized voice.

Aries (March 21–April 19) If the enemy of your enemy is your friend, does that mean your friend's friend is your enemy? Or are you simply being paranoid? Don't make any decisions unless you begin getting calls from a foreign-sounding man who breathes heavily into the phone and identifies himself as a friend of a friend.

Taurus (April 20–May 20) Your sun is in Leo, which could mean trouble because it's supposed to be in Albuquerque. Leo's son, meanwhile, has just confessed his love for his stepmother, who is being blackmailed by a mysterious man named Kurt.Pictures at 11:00.

Gemini (May 21–June 21) After a twelve-course Chinese dinner, you switch fortune cookies with the person next to you when she isn't looking. When she opens "her" cookie, she grins happily. Several weeks later you learn that she has won several $8 million in the lottery. Meanwhile, the cookie that you opened said, "That wasn't really pork."


The Grammar Prick
Meaner than a powdery, old-hag English 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 is available from Cedar Tree Books. Written by someone who was actually raised by pugs, Postcards is a welcome addition to any nightstand.
Sample chapters . . . 1 2

Herman Cain Sex Video Less Thrilling than Cold Pizza
Nov 4, 2011 - 9:00:00 AM
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ATLANTA, Geo. - The third shoe and a ten-foot stack of pizza boxes have fallen on presidential candidate Herman Cain. For the last three days Mr. Cain, 65, has been tap dancing like a fool trying to stamp out the rekindled embers of sexual harassment charges brought against him by two women during his term as president of the National Restaurant Association (1996-1999).

After first denying that he knew anything about the charges, Mr. Cain allowed that he might have heard something about them—about one of them at least—but the charges were essentially no biggie. What's more, the settlements the women received prohibit them from discussing their complaints, so it's essentially Mr. Cain's word against no one's these days.

Now, however, a third woman has emerged who alleges that Mr. Cain harassed her also, and she's waving a thirteen-minute, homemade sex video entitled The Godfather Super Sized Me that allegedly stars her and an oiled-up Herman Cain, looking about a dozen years younger and thinner than he currently does. If his most recent accuser is telling the truth, Mr. Cain will need the skills if not the vision of Sammy Davis Jr. to tap dance his way out of this cheesy mess.

According to someone in the Rick Perry camp who has seen The Godfather Super Sized Me, "It's your basic amateur suck-and-fuck production."

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The video opens with a shot of a woman who's got a serious case of camel toe lounging by the pool in a bikini on a warm day. Apparently too hot to cook, the woman reaches for her cell phone and orders a personal-size meat-lover's special from Godfather's Pizza.

Quicker than you can say, "I wonder if she'll do the delivery guy?" there stands Herman Cain at her gate. He's wearing a Godfather's Pizza shirt and matching shorts so short that half his left nut is hanging out.

"Anybody order a meat lover's special?" he asks in his best Mandingo voice.

"I am a meat lover's special," replies the woman with exaggerated coyness while eyeing Mr. Cain's package oozing out of his shorts.

From this pant-by-numbers setup The Godfather Super Sized Me goes downhill faster than an eighteen-wheeler with no brakes. Mr. Cain and the woman progress in a cliched arc from swapping lame one liners—"This is the second-best thing I've ever put in my mouth"—to swapping spit and other body fluids.

Ironically, Mr. Cain's performance lacks the bravado and the impish wit that have marked his current bid for the Republican presidential nomination. He pulls the most obvious faces in the throes of "the moment," and as the woman responds in kind, he shouts, "Who's your CEO now, baby?" as though he's reading the line off a teleprompter.

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Although Mr. Cain's turn in The Godfather Super Sized Me is rote, wooden, and pathetic, he is nevertheless a commanding screen presence thanks to his enormous kickstand. Not to put too blunt a point on things, but Mr. Cain is something of a one-man three-legged race. When the woman first sees him naked, her eyes grow wide, her jaw drops, and she screams. Mr. Cain stands there smirking while his dinosaur-neck of a cock grows to frightening dimensions, contrary to what we sometimes read about the growth potential of dicks the width of a fire hose.

Spoiler alert: In addition to run-of-the-mill sex in various positions, The Godfather Super Sized Me contains one amusing scene in which Mr. Cain replies "9-9-9" when the woman asks how much the pizza costs.


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