Bigfoot Chester's: Your Weekly Horoscope

Aries-March 21 to April 19

Your insufferable need to be right all the time is really a drag, if your friends were being honest with you. If you stuck a piece of coal 'twix the cheeks of your ass and played a game of Tetris, the result would be a diamond. Lighten up a little, will you? Oh yeah, and be on the look-out for romance on Thursday!

Taurus-April 20 to May 2

You are patient and loveable,warm-hearted and loving, placid and security loving; that's what it says here. What an enormous bore you are! Your logo is the friggin' Schlitz Malt-Liquor Bull, and that's the only interesting thing about you!

Gemini- May 2 to June 20

Your birthday falls right in the middle of Fly-Fishing season, which means eventually, you will have a birthday party, to which you will invite me, that will interrupt my fishing plans for the weekend. Guaren-fuckin-tee it!

Cancer- June 21 to July 22

You are over emotional and touchy,clinging and unable to let go. If you are a woman, you remind all men of Sharon Stone in Fatal Attraction; if you are a man, women think you are gay, and only hang out with you for that reason. Please Light!

Leo-July 23 to August 22

All I can think of when I hear Leo is that Leo Buscalia, therapist guy that was really popular a few years ago- you know the guy who just loved to hug everybody?! Now I'm annoyed; next sign please!

Virgo- August 23 to September 22

Your constant need to be meticulous and overly-critical will force one of your co-workers to swiftly kick you right in the ass, something they had been wanting to do for three years. Oh yeah, and financial opportunity will arise for you on Saturday.

Libra-September 23 to October 22

You are so indecisive you make John Kerry look like Lyndon Larouche. Make up your Fucking mind before I make it up for you...paper or plastic, paper or plastic, paper or plastic... Jeeeeesus Chriiiist!

Scorpio- October 23 to November 21

You are jealous, compulsive and obsessive. You beat me out for "Best Personality for Class of '81" in the Warrior's school yearbook! I hate you, I hate you!! (oh, wait, that was Dan Haiden, sorry).

Sagitarious- November 22 to December 21

On Wednesday, you will lose your job at the Mill, which would completely crush a Pisces, but you are so Fuckin blindly optimistic, you will take a job as a Kirby vacuum cleaner salesperson and, actually, probably make it work. Why can't you be more cynical, like me?

Capricorn- December 22 to January 20

Did you ever wonder about stuff? Like, do Vegetarians eat animal crackers, or if you put Spot Remover on your dog, will he disappear? Did you know the band Uriah Heep got its name from the protagonist in Dickens' David Copperfield? That's the kind of crap you probably think about Capricorn, aaaaalll the time!

Aquarius-January 21 to February 18

"This is the dawning of the aaaaage of Aquarius, Aquariuuuuus, Aquuuuaaaaiiuuuuus"! God, I've always hated that play. God-Damned Hippies! I can almost smell your Patchooli, Aquarius. You will buy a used Volvo this week and probably take a trip to the Organic food store for some Free-Range Corn Tortillas. Hacky-Sack anyone?

Pisces- February 19 to March 20

Pisces, old buddy, you are compassionate kind, imaginative and sensitive, above all, very creative. You will write a blog entry that people will think really sucks, but won't tell you honestly. If they do, just ignore them and rememer, you are an artistic genius, and they couldn't possibly understand that. Who's your buddy?!

Bigfoot Chester is neither a Licensed Counselor or a Registered Guide to the Stars. Questions or stinging insults can be directed to him via jack@totallyout.com. Peeeeeaaaace!

Muddah turns 40-Something

My oldest buddy and used to be frequent contributor to this site, Marc Warren celebrates a birthday today. Well, he may not be celebrating it, but it's here nonetheless. Hey buddy, I got you the same thing I got you last year, d'ya like it? Why, oh why are we not out canoodling some rapids? It's not fair.

A pensive Marc Warren

ponders his old age

Message To The Boys

Be excited! Be very excited!

http://home.comcast.net/~alineback/05042006Rome2MessageToTheBoys.mp3

Same old rules apply ... if you hate this, there isn't enough suck in the world to adequately describe you.

bLOG hAS mOVED

I have changee the name of the Blog because, un-fucking believable as it might seem, some other joker had what I thought was a singularly stupid idea, and called his b'log the Unemployed Philosopher's Guild. It's a pretty good sight, actually, here check it out (bastards):

www.philosophersguild.com

Either way, Sufferin' Bastard pretty much sums it up. Same great Crap, Different name!

BFC

On the Moon

This is a quickie: but I wanted to say that the funniest thing I have ever heard in my life on the web was found at the address below:

http://www.blogjam.com/neil_armstrong/

In the news this week: the problem of illegal aliens. Some of you may even have heard the new “all-Martian” version of the national anthem, which was buzzed into people’s minds on Friday using some sort of horrible Martian mental death ray.

Oh say can you—zzzzzrrrp!
By the glaxnix zoid rezza zeerp!
What so eep! Eep! Eep! Eep! we hailed
By the twilight’s last zzzrrvev-rep! Zap!

My father’s people came here from Mars—at least that’s what my mother always said—so I have to admit I take these issues rather personally. I still remember my grandmother sitting out by the pool on a summer day, retracting and extending her scary metallic antennae.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your people, Jenny,” she used to say. “Remember, Martians are just like anybody else, except we can use telepathy to make people’s minds explode.”
She was a sweet old thing. All the kids called her “Gampy,” although her real name, of course was Telecaster-Nine-Warp-ZAXXOZZ. To be fair, my Irish grandfather sometimes got tired of being married to the only woman in our neighborhood with a giant pulsating brain. “But remember Jenny,” he’d say to me. “It’s better to be married to someone with a giant pulsating brain than the opposite.”
I still wonder what he meant by this.
Martians, of course, aren’t the only aliens waiting for their shot at the American dream. You don’t hear so much about them, but the Venusians have an ancient culture as well, based on free love and communal ownership of property and worshipping the deep spirituality of nature. Oh, wait, that’s Hallowell! Well, anyway, I’m sure Venus is a very nice place as well, excepting for its atmosphere which is a constant hailstorm of deadly methane, ammonia, Top Job and Spam. You want to know what Venus is like? Think Los Angeles, without George Hamilton.
Yes, yes, I can hear Lou Dobbs saying, that’s all well and good, but once these characters get here they start demanding access to the fruits of American civilization, like, for instance, three-dollar-a-gallon gas. Is that why we’re paying taxes? So a bunch of women (as I understand Venus is populated entirely by women) with tentacles, gills, and hideous prehensile tongues can take away our jobs, our menfolk, and the national anthem?
You’ve probably heard the “Venusian” version of the national anthem by now, recorded by a chorus of horny Venusian gals and slowed down by the Internal Revenue Service to a pitch audible by humans:

Oh say can you—oh never mind
What I really want to do
Is to mmmm—pour fruit juice
On your pecs from this shoe.
Your broad stripes and bright stars
And the rest make me pine
For your big Yankee fists
On my gills, you wild swine!

The Congress has been wrestling this last week with the aliens issue, and thank god the the Republicans and Democrats have finally set their bipartisan differences aside, and are working toward a compromise solution that will benefit all Americans. Ha! Ha! Ha!
No, just kidding. What actually happened was that Senator Kennedy said that Senator Brownback was a “fundamentalist nut-job” and Senator Brownback, for his part, said that Senator Kennedy looked like a “big swole-up potato.”
Shortly after this, they started calling each other names.
It made me think, not for the first time, that maybe Mars or Venus wouldn’t be such a bad place to live sometimes, at least compared to Washington. There are worse things to breathe than Top Job, as it turns out.
In the meantime, aliens continue to cross through the radiation belt, day after day, slowly but surely becoming part of our culture, ready or not.
Who knows? Maybe one day soon we’ll elect the first president who isn’t even human. Can you imagine it, the country run by some inarticulate buffoon who can barely speak English, some crazy nut who’d divide the country, and launch wars against planets that haven’t even attacked us?
Oh what am I thinking? Something like that? Happening here? That’d be out of this world.

"Mmmm...let me think about this for a minute."

Celebrity Haiku Vol.# 346

Anger is the Enemy

Truth is by Nature, Self-Evident

I'm Walkiiiin' Heeeere!

--Mohandus Gahndi

S.A.D.

Speaking of Acronyms Dude- We were . . . weren't we? Anyhoo . . . what's up with RADD? Used to be Rockers Against Drunk Driving . . . fine, no problem with that . . .now they've co-opted Athletes and Actors into the mix. Rock artists, Acors and Athletes against Drunk Driving . . . so is it nowRAAAAADD?

Why don't they just change it to Real Assholes against drunk driving . . . that way they can stick with RADD . . . and we'll all still know who they're talking about.

the Alien problem

In the news this week: the problem of illegal aliens. Some of you may even have heard the new “all-Martian” version of the national anthem, which was buzzed into people’s minds on Friday using some sort of horrible Martian mental death ray.

Oh say can you—zzzzzrrrp!
By the glaxnix zoid rezza zeerp!
What so eep! Eep! Eep! Eep! we hailed
By the twilight’s last zzzrrvev-rep! Zap!

My father’s people came here from Mars—at least that’s what my mother always said—so I have to admit I take these issues rather personally. I still remember my grandmother sitting out by the pool on a summer day, retracting and extending her scary metallic antennae.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your people, Jenny,” she used to say. “Remember, Martians are just like anybody else, except we can use telepathy to make people’s minds explode.”
She was a sweet old thing. All the kids called her “Gampy,” although her real name, of course was Telecaster-Nine-Warp-ZAXXOZZ. To be fair, my Irish grandfather sometimes got tired of being married to the only woman in our neighborhood with a giant pulsating brain. “But remember Jenny,” he’d say to me. “It’s better to be married to someone with a giant pulsating brain than the opposite.”
I still wonder what he meant by this.
Martians, of course, aren’t the only aliens waiting for their shot at the American dream. You don’t hear so much about them, but the Venusians have an ancient culture as well, based on free love and communal ownership of property and worshipping the deep spirituality of nature. Oh, wait, that’s Hallowell! Well, anyway, I’m sure Venus is a very nice place as well, excepting for its atmosphere which is a constant hailstorm of deadly methane, ammonia, Top Job and Spam. You want to know what Venus is like? Think Los Angeles, without George Hamilton.
Yes, yes, I can hear Lou Dobbs saying, that’s all well and good, but once these characters get here they start demanding access to the fruits of American civilization, like, for instance, three-dollar-a-gallon gas. Is that why we’re paying taxes? So a bunch of women (as I understand Venus is populated entirely by women) with tentacles, gills, and hideous prehensile tongues can take away our jobs, our menfolk, and the national anthem?
You’ve probably heard the “Venusian” version of the national anthem by now, recorded by a chorus of horny Venusian gals and slowed down by the Internal Revenue Service to a pitch audible by humans:

Oh say can you—oh never mind
What I really want to do
Is to mmmm—pour fruit juice
On your pecs from this shoe.
Your broad stripes and bright stars
And the rest make me pine
For your big Yankee fists
On my gills, you wild swine!

The Congress has been wrestling this last week with the aliens issue, and thank god the the Republicans and Democrats have finally set their bipartisan differences aside, and are working toward a compromise solution that will benefit all Americans. Ha! Ha! Ha!
No, just kidding. What actually happened was that Senator Kennedy said that Senator Brownback was a “fundamentalist nut-job” and Senator Brownback, for his part, said that Senator Kennedy looked like a “big swole-up potato.”
Shortly after this, they started calling each other names.
It made me think, not for the first time, that maybe Mars or Venus wouldn’t be such a bad place to live sometimes, at least compared to Washington. There are worse things to breathe than Top Job, as it turns out.
In the meantime, aliens continue to cross through the radiation belt, day after day, slowly but surely becoming part of our culture, ready or not.
Who knows? Maybe one day soon we’ll elect the first president who isn’t even human. Can you imagine it, the country run by some inarticulate buffoon who can barely speak English, some crazy nut who’d divide the country, and launch wars against planets that haven’t even attacked us?
Oh what am I thinking? Something like that? Happening here? That’d be out of this world.