Buffalo BEAST - Buffalo's New Best Fiend
 

June 29-July 13, 2005

Issue #78

  .....Buffalo's Best Fiend
   

Independence Day
3rd Party Politics for Fun & Profit

 
BAD ART!
Pataki Leads Carge Against the Talentless
by Matt Taibbi
 
Last Best Chance
Dragging our Feet on Nuclear Terror
by Alex Zaitchik
 

Welcome to My Nightmare
Eminent Domain Ruling Leads to Gigantism in B-List Actors

by Ian Murphy

 

Say it Ain't Soda
Revoking the Bottle Deposit is an Asinine Idea

by Christofurious Riordan

 

Reid's United States of Europe
Book Review
by Paul Fallon

 

Just Kill Me
Recruiters are Dying to Talk to Your Kids
by Matt Taibbi

 
Faux-tures

Litigious Idol
Help choose Barnes' new Cellino!

 

Dear Donny
Romantic Advice from the Secretary of Defense

 

Sports

The Sports Blotter
The Week in Sports Crime

Cover Page
Buffalo in Briefs
Page 3
 
Beast-O-Scopes
Kino Korner - Movies
[sic] - Your Letters
 
The BEAST Blog

 

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Beast-O-Scopes

Cancer (June 21-July 22)

Cancer, your gregarious attitude at work doesn’t excuse the fact that you are a real jerk to the other members of your band. I hate to break it to you, but it’s actually you who are off-key and out of tempo. How do I know this? Just look at yourself, with that ridiculous outfit. This may be hard for you to believe, but some people play music because they’re good at it, and some just because they like it. There is a third category also, Cancer and you’re there, baby—all the way live.

 

Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)

Leo, your life will take a turn for the worse when you realize the ‘elephant gun’ you brought along to protect yourself on your jungle safari vacation is actually made out of elephants, and not a functioning gun at all. I have a winning lottery number for you, but it will only taunt you as you lie bleeding under the African sun, hundreds of miles from the nearest 7-11. Should’ve gone for the Vegas getaway package instead, Mr. Adventure. You could have been on HBO’s “Taxicab Confessions,” rambling on about how terribly unexciting your girlfriend is sexually, which would have led to her leaving you, immediately followed by a lifelong blissful relationship with Fran Drescher. Actually, you’re probably better off, Leo—that voice, you know.

 

Virgo (Aug 23-Sept 22)

Virgo, your idea for a screenplay is terrible. Trust me, nobody’s ever going to produce a story about intelligent mushrooms—because that’s just stupid. I mean, they don’t even move around or anything, or have mouths or eyes even. Who do you think you can get on board to voice the characters, anyway? Well, sure, Jonathan Frakes, but who else? Look, quit huffing gasoline and go back to the cliché cop drama with the unrealistically beautiful detectives. You’ll be a hack, Virgo, but a rich one nonetheless.

 

Libra (Sept 23 –Oct 22)

Hey Libra, do you realize what percentage of American cattle are even tested for Mad Cow? In fact, we test a tiny fraction of our cows, about 20,000 out of 36 million slaughtered annually. So when you hear that there’s only one case, try to keep in mind that each cow tested represents about 1,800 others. Actually, now it’s two cases. How’s that steak hoagy? No thanks, I’m good.

 

Scorpio (Oct 23-Nov 21)

Scorpio, I know you’re always asking people why everybody in Buffalo is so negative. Why does everyone complain, you ask, when we’ve got such great architecture—and Olmstead parks, and free music festivals and such? Well, I’ll tell you: Because it sucks here, Scorpio, and most of us don’t have the capacity or the desire to tune that out the way you do.

 

Sagittarius (Nov 22 – Dec 21)

Hey Sagittarius, by now you’re probably wondering about the lack of horoscopes involving things going into or coming out of people’s butts. Well, what can I say, man, I’m just not channeling any butt-related prophesies this week. Stop cutting yourself, Sagittarius; that’s just weird.

 

Capricorn (Dec 22 – Jan 19)

Capricorn, you imagine yourself to be the smartest guy in the world, but smoking two packs a day pretty much shoots that theory down. Besides, I can kick your ass at Scrabble, and, as all divine astral beings know, that is the true test of one’s intelligence. And you totally got lucky that one time at Trivial Pursuit, so don’t go bringing that up again. I mean, really, who doesn’t know Diana Ross was in The Wiz, I ask you?

 

Aquarius (Jan 20-Feb 18)

Aquarius, for God’s sake, get over the Franz Ferdinand album already. I get it, really; you were always into the Fall, and Bauhaus, and Joy Division, and you even have that Warsaw box set. It’s a good album and all, really. But if I have to hear that goddamn one song again booming through my bedroom wall at 4am, I’m going to set the house on fire with you in it. Come on, just go get an Interpol record or something. By the way—nice ass.

 

Pisces (Feb 19-March 20)

Pisces, why are you having so much trouble believing this global warming thing? After all, has it ever been this fucking hot in Buffalo—ever? What exactly is it that makes you distrust the assessment of independent scientists, while you give credence to the amateur opinions of—oil industry executives? You realize that’s what they are, right? They’re oil industry executives, and you believe them—why? Well I’ll tell you: mainly it’s because you resent people who are smarter than you. That’s normal, Pisces, but you’re getting a little older now, and maybe it’s time to face up to that.

 

Aries (March 21-April 19)

Aries, your date tomorrow will be wonderful, except you’re gay.

 

 

Taurus (April 20-May 20)

Taurus, I really thought you were cute a few weeks ago, but the nightlife scene is already halfway done masticating what’s left of your soul. Why not take a week off, so your eyes can have a chance to return to their respective sockets? Your hair was straight before, too, and you didn’t shout all the time either. Take it easy, or pretty soon you won’t even be attractive enough to get free drugs anymore, and then you’ll have to get a job or something.

 

Gemini (May 21 –June 20)

Gemini, we have a problem – I can’t stop watching “Celebrity Poker Showdown,” and you’ve fallen down a ravine and broken both your legs. I’d love to come help, but that Dave Foley is just so witty, and I just can’t wait to see if Norm MacDonad is going to take the Golden Chip or wind up trading bon mots with a drunken Carrie Fisher in the Loser’s Lounge. I know, I know – it’s stupid, but I really can’t tear myself away, lest I miss an important tip from poker expert Phil Gordon or a hilarious improv moment from a hopelessly outmatched Jason Alexander. Good luck, Gemini.

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