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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

Taylor Swift Placed Under Suicide Watch (Breaking News)
Jul 27, 2013 - 5:49
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READING, Pa.–Taylor Swift has been placed under a suicide watch by concerned members of her entourage, the Pug Bus learned today. The popular, six-foot-tall singer-songwriter has been sideswiped by increasingly severe and frequent panic attacks that have played havoc with her mental health and with her ability to write revenge songs.

"Taylor is so terrified of being alone? She cannot even go to the bathroom by herself? said Rainbow, an under-assistant to Ms. Swift's manicurist who did not wish to be identified for fear of being placed on permanent toilet-monitor duty.

In addition to a dread of her own company, Ms. Swift has recurring nightmares about Kanye West interrupting her to make a speech while she's having sex. As a result she hasn't had a partner in nearly two weeks, the longest she's gone without one since she was fifteen.

The lack of sex deprives Ms. Swift not only of the validation she craves but also of the material for the petty, self-righteous, and vindictive songs that have made her a demigod to petty, self-righteous, and vindictive adolescents.

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"Taylor hasn't written a break-up song in, like, forever? There's been nobody to break up with?" said Pixie, who oversees a crew of six responsible for the care and transportation of the hundreds of stuffed animals that Ms. Swift takes on tour with her.

Like most of Ms. Swift's entourage, Pixie hasn't uttered a declarative sentence for years, but she is nonetheless certain whom to blame for Ms. Swift's emotional decline.

"All the haters? All the jokes about her boyfriends? OMG!!! The fake porn photos?And the hurtful T-shirts? Like how is she supposed to deal with that? She's only one person, you know?"

Although Taylor Swift has been accused of making "training bra music," there's gold in them there molehills, and that's what has her people shitting bricks. As long as Ms. Swift is twenty-two going on fourteen or twenty-three going on fifteen, the hits will keep on coming; but what happens if her emotional age catches up with chronological age? Is she going to turn into Bob Dylan overnight?

As Pixie might say, "Duh?"

Hence the suicide watch. Hence the aroma therapy on the tour bus. Hence the constant stream of tweets to stoke the pre-pubescent ire of the army of Swifties, who put fatwas on the heads of clothing manufacturers, singers, or Golden Globe hosts who defame their high priestess.
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