BEAST-O-SCOPES


Aries(March 21-April 19)

Aries, if you miss deadline one more time, youíre off the paper. Iím sick and tired of sweating all night with my fingers crossed just to see if your pedestrian writings will grace my inbox in time to put this bitch to bed. I know you think your feces is odorless, Aries, but your subject matter is mundane and your style is way too cute. I canít believe you find it so difficult to crap out a few hundred words when you have two weeks to do it. Look to Venus, Aries, and start typing, dammit.


Taurus (April 20-May 20)

Wake up and smell your rotting septum, Taurus; youíre a cokehead. I know that denial is a powerful force, but itís nothing compared to what you can do to anything that gets between you and your 8-ball. If you still think youíre in control, try looking in a mirroróyour wire hangers fill out your dresses more than you do, and your eyes really shouldnít open wider than your mouth. By the way, your choice in a mate should probably have more to do with inner virtue, or at least physical attractiveness, than a constant supply of the devilís dandruff. Maybe the next time you go to a bar you should try hanging around away from the bathroom. Look to Pluto, Taurus, because your old friends all pretend not to see you when they walk by.


Gemini (May 21 ĖJune 20)

Gemini, sometimes euthanasia really is the right answer. Your cat is 14 years old now, and that tumor on its head just isnít going to get any smaller. The poor thing can barely lift itself up anymore; itís really sad. I know youíre into animal rights and everything, but you should also consider their right to die with dignity. Look to Venus, Gemini, and go find a good sized rock.


Cancer (June 21-July 22)

Cancer, I hate to tell you this, but youíre a terrible musician. The next time youíre warbling a James Taylor song or butchering Paul Simon at an open mic, take a look around and count the rolling eyes and slumped shoulders. Iím not saying you shouldnít play when youíre alone, but if you keep practicing your scales while your roommate is home, he might just snap and cram your 5-foot turbografix bong down your throat. Seriously, Cancer, heís fantasizing about it on a daily basis. Look to Mars, and try a career in visual art; thereís no standards there.


Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)

Leo, youíre not black. Get over it. Stop pretending you are; itís pathetic. Everybody thinks youíre asinine, "G," especially the actual black guys that you fall all over yourself trying to be "down" with. They all laugh their asses off at you behind your back, particularly at your inept misuse of slang. FYI, Leo; "krunk" is not a type of furniture; and there is no such word as "gortaffity"óyour crappy boom box ate that tape, "nigga!"


Virgo (Aug 23-Sept 22)

Virgo, Iíve never felt this way about a guy before, but youíre so damn effeminate, youíre giving me a chubby. I canít believe youíre still clinging to your ridiculous charade of heterosexuality, when you could be clinging to my inner thigh instead. Your "gothic" style is just an excuse to wear makeup and fishnet stockings, Virgo, admit it. Your lipstick and eyeliner have awakened me to a new world of possibilities. Look to Uranus, Virgo; Ďcause thatís where Iím headed.


Libra (Sept 23 ĖOct 22)

Libra, your absurdly oversized vehicle disgusts everyone you drive past, and the ridiculous picture of that kid peeing on your back window will only ensure that no woman with an IQ higher than the number of ounces in your 40 of OE will ever talk to you, much less take you seriously. Have you figured out how many ounces that is yet, muttonhead? Itís one thing to play your stereo loud with the windows rolled down, Libra, but pointing a PA system out of your trunk makes you a desperate loser, obviously yearning for any scrap of attention you can get. Even a sidelong glance would make your day, wouldnít it, you pitiful twerp? Look to Jupiter, Libra; and read a fucking book.


Scorpio (Oct 23-Nov 21)

Scorpio, painting square planks of wood red is not an adequate justification for your existence. I donít care how many degrees you have, theyíre still just red squares, and my dog could make better paintings with a brush tied to his tail. I must admit that it drives me a little crazy that you can get shows, and the way you stand there and smile with smug satisfaction while people pay $300--$1,000 each for them makes me want to stab you in the eyes. Look to the Sun you big fake; and you may be blind soon. Maybe it will help your career, you dick.


Sagittarius (Nov 22 Ė Dec 21)

Stop trying to sell me jewelry every time I see you, Sagittarius; do I look like a jewelry kind of guy? Your desperation to scratch up a few bucks does not translate into my desire to be adorned with hippy-dippy turquoise and shiny metal. In fact, while weíre on the subject, stinky, Iíd rather have to inhale your foul body stench than have my olfactory nerves assaulted by your horrible patchouli. What are you, some lower-caste Indian amputee who hasnít been introduced to the concept of running water yet? Look to Neptune, you freak, and lay off the acid.


Capricorn (Dec 22 Ė Jan 19)

Capricorn, you may be able to fool your elementary reading class and their parents into thinking youíre a sweet girl, but I know itís a different story when you get outómore like "Horton Hears a Ho!" You do a fine job of literacy instruction, but itís too bad your knob-gobbliní talents are sadly unshared with the young and unexposed teens who so desperately need your guidance. Maybe you can spearhead a new wave of "safe sex" education, Capricorn; try bringing a Hustler mag to show and tell next time.


Aquarius (Jan 20-Feb 18)

Aquarius, your refusal to testify before the 9/11 committee will effectively end your career in politics. Your evil boss and his retarded puppet are living on borrowed time, now that the cat is out of the bag. That big mean counter-terrorism guy is messing up the program,Aquarius, but you can still fall back on your old career as a soulless corporate whore. Look to Mercury, and for godís sake, get some braces!


Pisces (Feb 19-March 20)

Calm down, Pisces, you werenít really hatched out of an egg that your parents found by the roadside one afternoon; your mother is just the meanest bitch on the face of the earth. She was also lying about the warthogs under your bedóitís a tape recording she made while you were at school. You donít have Lupus either, or terminal brain cancer. Now that you know, itís time to exact your revenge. Look to Orion, Pisces, and start by pissing in her OJ.



Letters to the Evil Editors should be addressed to:
sic@buffalobeast.com

© 2004 The Beast