Editor’s Note: Although my serving whelp Sextus no longer attends to my bed side and in fact betrayed me in a most uncouth fashion, the little gypsy penned a remarkable number of so-called “horoscopes” during the weeks he was in my service. In order to achieve some recompense in the meantime before he is dully apprehended and has his ankles broken to prevent any more flights of fancy, I have chosen to publish these otherwise blasphemous and ungodly fortunes within the pages of the hallowed Onion newspaper, as I have been told the masses are intrigued by them. Profitable blasphemy is only the best kind, followed closely however by “blasphemous charades”.
It is with no small portion of condescending bemusement that I would note that the first documented match of Canadian football was played on this date at the University of Toronto. Of course, our republic was mired in Mr. Lincoln’s war at the time and far be it that our Gallic fur-trapping neighbors refrain from whimsy during such a time period. I have more respect for solemn occasions, such as when I forbade the servants from defecating during the my father’s three month funerary rites. I also buried their first-born within the tomb, but I feel that was more of an excuse to keep the surplus of labor down, lest the poor and downtrodden get restive in sufficient number. Horoscopes it is, then.
Aries: (March 21-April 19)
You will keep trying to render in water paint the mystical experience you had last Saturday, but it will keep looking like the amphetamine-fueled bukkake you had last Friday.
Taurus: (April. 20-May 20)
Your assertion that the FBI will hunt you down will become a self-fulfilling prophecy after you give three Arab men a hundred thousand dollars, two cars, and thirty pounds of ammonia sulfate.
Gemini: (May 21-June 21)
Though your contribution to nuclear physics isn’t on the level of Niels Bohr, it does make a tasty burger.
Cancer: (June 22-July 22)
You are ambiguous over the worth of your experience, as your experience is a 12 hour sex-a-thon with Japanese twins but involves sever chaffing, whiplash, and inner-ear damage due to high-pitched screaming.
Leo: (July 23-Aug. 22)
There’s no business like show business especially after you start your Living Actor and Actress Zoological Park.
Virgo: (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)
Although you will like you’re new plumbing, the pipes won’t be big enough to dispose of the violated corpse of Ozzie Canseco.
Libra: (Sept. 23-Oct. 23)
Your habit is smelly, unhealthy, and detrimental to those around you, and it is fairly evident that the exhausted panda didn’t enjoy it either.
Scorpio: (Oct. 24-Nov. 21)
All right, Scorpio admits it: you make a pretty mean corndog.
Sagittarius: (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
The extent of the frailty of your views on Kantian philosophy becomes evident when, by the sheer force of your stupidity, the German thinker is reincarnated purely in order to hit you with a shoe.
Capricorn: (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
In the burn unit you will tell doctors that your injuries didn’t result from your poor intellect, but the irresistible sexiness of the electrical outlet.
Aquarius: (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)
Your lawyer insists that you need corroborating evidence to be acquitted, but no matter how hard you beat the monkey, he’s not talking.
Pisces: (Feb. 19-March 20)
Your claim that better jazz could come out of your ass will come true when the Dixieland Trio rear ends you as you cross the street.
Posted by Zombie Jesus X 
Posted by Zombie Jesus X 
Posted by Zombie Jesus X 
I Am a Supporter of this President
May 17, 2009- by T. Herman Zweibel, Publisher Emeritus and Conservative Fundamentalist Redundant
I knew in an exercise of higher reason that the colored peoples of this earth would try to rise against their Christian masters ever since the Filipino war at the turn of the century. Bungled as though it was, I maintain the real moral of the conflict was the extent of the cleverness of the oriental tail-less monkey. I had offered McKinley the services of my armed Slavic expeditionary force to subjugate the isles and turn them into banana plantations. Mangoes, I think, would also have been grown. And there would have been a wintering resort for my industrialist contemporaries, as well as any government officials congenial to our interests. But alas, the short-sighted McKinley dissolved my mercenary contingent by presidential decree and sent our own boys over to fight the jungle dwellers, turning it into our most prolonged conflict, until some sort of action about a French colony in Southeast Asia. If Pierre wants to frolick in the tropical forests with the savages, let the pastry-mongers do it; why must we murder the yellow man for the Gauls?
Speaking of the sloping sun-people, my nurse is lurking around my china hutch again, trolling for valuables. Back from there, you barnacled humpback! I’ll not have your pudgy ape-hands fondling my Henry Clay Edition gravy boats. Standish, hand me my mahogany cane. This little tramp is in line to receive a firm disciplinary check!
My Boorish readers, this is why I admire the current president. My attendant has related some present events in which the Persian cultist has sworn to attack this sovereign nation in order to assert his own rights over our own beloved privileges. It seems that a crude, stinking, ichorous substance know as “petrol” which lies beneath the Arabian peninsula in vast quantities, has become a means to power all manner of vehicular conveyance. Although I do not think it will replace printer’s ink or rum on the commodities’ market, this viscid oil appears important to economies the world over. At long last, we have a commander in chief willing to throw the metal to the anvil and assert our commercial priorities to these carpet-riding thieves.
We bestowed enlightened governance, civilization, proper dress, and religious salvation on these dirty goblins, I should hope that we would garner their raw material bounty in return. It is not as if the sultanates are using them; you have never heard stories of a janissary pumping this gasoline into a camel’s ass.
And may the Devil himself sink his fiery fangs into your rotund backside, you babbling hog! I saw you spirit that salt dispenser from my table set. You would do best to replace that condiment holder in a jiff or I’ll have you hands cut off and nailed to the servants’ quarters in the pale dawn light. Revisit your labors at once, you burglarizing squint!
Although the chief executive hails from the Mexican door prize this union was suckered into annexing, it is well known that his soul is in the care of Protestant orthodoxy and that his mind has been educated in the most prestigious pedagogical institutions of New England. I understand that his vices, and possibly a weak intellect, hindered his academic performance, but I invite those of you who have never enjoyed a snuff of lognum, a sifter of port, or a finger in the honeypot of a minor, to throw the first stone. It seems to me that the only opiate that the man takes comfort in now is the moral authority of the Lord Jesus Christ.
The populists among you goats may argue that the man has been transported this height of power by the grace of his father’s wealth and political connections, rather than by merit. And I say to you, you are absolutely right. In the almighty scheme of things, some are predestined and some are not, and those who are, have the right and duty to maintain their financial success, raise themselves and their own to high political office, and to exhibit an unshakeable ethical superiority. We can literally do no wrong. Take your plebian body to a church! Are not the reverends sermonizing on passive obedience as I author this editorial?
Thus, when I, or those like myself, tell you to make war on the brown man, you can trust that we have both the economic and divine justification to sacrifice your lives. You’re just poker chips to me, to spend in a drunken haze! I jest, gentlemen, I jest. You’re all a much more all purpose currency; silver dollars perhaps. Well, maybe not silver, but certainly no worse than cobalt. So pick up your rifles, boys! The blathering Moslem will threaten us not once more! And that goes for you as well, my toddering wee slave-woman. You steal from the preterite, you steal from the Lord himself. Renounce and perform corporal works for your crimes, or your colon will be wearing that salt shaker as an earring come the midnight hour. May the Babylonians listen to me as well: none of your futile mumbled offerings will gain you mercy when you come under the shadow of the Christian jackboot.