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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

Meet Our Illustrious Staff
Jan 25, 2006 - 9:33:00 AM

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Phil Maggitti, editor in briefs, is a retired freelance writer and editor living in a land of virtual reality with his wife, two pug dogs, two Boston terriers, four cats, the ashes of a dozen or so former pets, and a constant supply of primo dark chocolate. Phil has written nine books and more than 800 articles in the last three decades. He spent most of his time prior to that in a drug-induced stupor, honing his craft and courting his muse, who rejected him.

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Biff Scuzzy, our special events correspondent, is from Altoona, Pennsylvania, though not as far from it as some people in Altoona might prefer. Biff, whose Christian name has been revoked, attended Bryn Mawr and Princeton before taking a degree from Goldey Beacom Virtual University in Harlingen, Texas. Goldey Beacom has asked him repeatedly to return the degree, but to no avail. Biff is a regular contributor to the delinquency of minors.

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Chip Hilton, cultural affairs desk editor, is a talented but fragile waif who was named after an impossibly noble fictional sports hero of the 1950s. Chip is a bipolar, bimodal, biweekly contributor to this site. His byline has also appeared on the lavatory walls of some of this country's finest men's—and women's—rooms. His latest book, Flattery is the Best Policy, is available in the remainder bins of nondiscriminating bookstores everywhere.

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Buckner Wheat, our Chicago correspondent, is a native Texan and aspiring Canadian. After spending seven years as a Trappist monk, he was suddenly asked to leave when he was caught sneaking a Thorazine drip into Mass. He began piano studies at the age of eight and has been sighted performing his musical comedy act at various disreputable clubs in Chicago. His heroes are St. Therese, Janis Joplin, and Judge Judy.


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Matthew Strachan, our senior UK correspondent emeritus, was born in London and studied music at Dartington College of Arts and later at London University. He has composed rather a lot of television music over the years, including the various bleeps, tunes, and underscores for the international hit Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Since then he has bummed around in Nashville, TN, a lot and has spent much of his time down there being too afraid to enter certain diners. He has one wife, one daughter, but no longer has a rabbit.



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