Capricorn, we need to talk. There was a committee meeting and
you have officially been declared the “Too Old to be in
the Club Guy.” I know it’s hard to accept, but you
need to face the facts. I know you tried your hardest to hide
it by shopping at the mall and paying a lot of money at a salon
to look hip, but all you ended up with are clothes that make you
look like a frat boy movie villain and a strip of facial hair
that looks like a well-trimmed vagina was surgically attached
to your chin. Deal with it, Capricorn; it’s time to take
out a personal ad on Yahoo. That or you can just start hanging
out with Scorpio.
remember that time you asked me if I thought you were an alcoholic
and I just laughed? I laughed because you asked me after the
time you drank so much that your nose started bleeding profusely,
which was about a week before you crashed your sister’s
car into the monument in that traffic circle and ran away, which
was three weeks after you totaled your car pulling away from
a bar. All of which is the tip of the tragicomic iceberg. I
laughed because it was a question to which you knew the answer.
I know there has been a heated family debate over putting Granny
in a home but I think after everyone open their X-Mas gifts
from her this year the debate will be over. I don’t want
to ruin the surprise, but let’s just say she has been
using that Have a Heart Trap and lots of safety-pins, glue and
glitter. Just remember, the important thing is to pretend you
Aries, I was thinking about your rant the other day when you
were bitching about why your acting career hasn’t taken
off and how it’s everyone else’s fault. I think
you may be right because you have everything you need to be
a star; you’re a blockheaded, self-centered, vapid asshole
with marginal talent.
you need to accept that “Tom Goes to The Mayor”
sucks. IT SUCKS!
we have talked about the farting before and I don’t want
to beat a dead horse here but you need to see a doctor about
options because it has to end. FEMA has already proven itself
inept to handle an environmental crisis and I can’t even
imagine what will happen on all-you-can-eat tacos day.
remember when we were kids and would fill up foil cupcake cups
with chocolate syrup in the middle of winter and throw them at
Metro Bus windshields and the wiper blades would smear it all
over? That was fun.
I was thinking about when I ran into you at the Home Depot recently.
It was nice to see you but I couldn’t help noticing that
you were buying garbage bags, bleach, scrub brushes, hacksaw
blades and a bunch of interior paint. Well, I was just wondering
how the wife is these days.
you’ve been gay before and you’ll be gay again.
In fact you were gay just the other night. When, you ask? Remember
that night your wife went to bed early and you stayed up to
watch TV and ended up watching that Lifetime Original Movie
about the woman who had to kill her abusive husband? That was
the night. The night you were gay.
Libra, you know that picture you submitted to the Church bulletin
from your Christian Youth mission to South America? Yeah, the
picture of you sitting on that log in front of the giant crucifix
with all of those children holding Bibles. Well I just thought
you should know that your balls are showing.
that is quite a look you have chosen for yourself: shaved head,
black trench coat and the purse-like backpack. What exactly
drove that fashion decision? Did you and the all the other fatheaded
“Magic: The Gathering” athletes get together and
decide on a team uniform? Well you look like a bunch of retarded
people on a field trip, just waiting for the bus to come gather
you up before one of you starts throwing crap. Good luck on
the whole getting laid thing Corky.
know you’ve already caught a bunch of shit for this, but
what exactly were you thinking walking out of an airplane lavatory
at 25,000 feet and saying, “Nobody go in there for a while,
cause I just dropped a bomb?” Beyond the poor choice of
metaphor for use during airline travel, I don’t think
people in a tight, contained environment of recycled air share
your amusement at the smell of your poo. However, when the Air
Marshal pistol-whipped you, I believe everyone was at least
Torture ain't no thang in Krauthammer's
crowd. But why do the Feds want a legal exemption when they've
been doing it all this time anyway?
War vets & Iraqi civilians get a special gift: Radioactive
metal in their lungs!
A concerned Christmas defender
seeks help from James Dobson's Alliance Defense Fund.
& the Clinton Monkey
Thompson saw the President for what we all are.
O Lord, please kill Pat Robertson.
St. Nick answers questions
both naughty & nice.