Buffalo BEAST - Buffalo's New Best Fiend

Issue #70    Buffalo's New Best Fiend       March 9th - March 23, 2005
Tumors for Sale
by Allan Uthman
ABOUT WHAT'S ON PAGE 7 - I'm Not Sorry
by Matt Taibbi
About the Upcoming Death of the Pope
by Matt Taibbi
by Gabe Armstrong
SPOILER - AV Publisher Ruins Movie for WNY
MIDDLE AMERICA - Out of Step with Hollywood Values
BEAST Home Page
Buffalo in Briefs
Separated At Birth
Straight Dope w/ Dr. Rotten
Bardak & Eats
Kino Corner
Toons & Puzzles
[SIC] - Your Letters
BEAST E-Newsletter
BEAST Merchandise

There are times in a man's life when he must decide what is more important to him; Spreading the wisdom of the cosmos or watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force on Adult Swim while eating from a large plastic tub of assorted snacks.

Whatever the motivation a decision had to be made, and that decision was to print a "Best of Beast-O-Scopes" for this hallmark seventieth issue. In order to accomplish this task I had to painstakingly cut and paste some of the more choice selections from the last thirty issues or so.

I bid you to sit back and enjoy this little journey into the past and always remember this one truth; Tom Cruise is not gay, not even a little.

As Divined By Your Ethereal Guide - Andrew Gullerstein

Pisces (February 20 - March 20)

Pisces, my advice to you is to stop looking to Pluto and focus your attention right here on Earth, because your wife has been banging your priest for about six months now. In case you were wondering, most women don't wear their thong panties to confession. Word on the cakewalk is that your hibachi doesn't hold half the meat as his BBQ pit. Pisces, now is the time to act locally and think globally before you go off and punch that prick out during communion. If you play you cards right, you can be part of the best episode of "Cheaters" ever.

Aries (March 21 - April 20)

Listen Aries, everybody kills nurses, it's a simply fact of life. Not everyone makes them into musical instruments but you sir, are an artist. I know it, you know it and believe it or not the police know it. That's why I want you to go down to the nearest Police Station and explain your "art" to them. After you've told them everything ask them to take to your "studio" so you can play then some of your newest mixes. Venus is on the rise for you Aries, and that means you need to go down the to nearest Police Station and share your gifts. The stars concur that it is very important that you do this before executing plans for the Oboe.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)

Just because you like having foreign objects jammed up your ass, Taurus, doesn't mean that your girlfriend does as well. Truth be told, she has made it quite clear to you that at no time are you to attempt sticking anything in her rectum, nor will she aid you in fitting odd items into yours. Please give that some thought before you actually order the "Ass Master 3000" from that catalog you've been hiding all week. Common sense should tell you that this thing has "Emergency Room visit' written all over it. For the love of God, it comes with a fucking legal waiver form; that alone should send up a couple of red flags. You need to evaluate your current relationship, Taurus; if the ass factor is that important, it may be time to move on. On a side note, if I EVER see you use that large wooden salad spoon at a dinner party I will punch you right in the face.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)

I have been thinking about you a lot this week, Gemini. More to the point, I've been thinking about those large black garbage bags I saw you loading into the trunk of your Saab at 3:17am last Wednesday morning. You weren't gone that long, but you were all wet when you came back from your little drive. Add that to the fact that I haven't seen your wife doing her usual gardening, and you might say my imagination has been having a little jam session of sorts. How long will it be, Gemini, before the "My wife is visiting relatives" alibi starts to crumble? One week? Two? Either way I'll be able to watch the Six O' Clock news right from my front steps.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)

Dear Cancer, the next time you wonder why your father drinks so much just go up to your room and take a good long look at the Star Trek dress uniform in your closet. Look man, "Next Generation" was a great show; I know because I have seen every episode. However, the difference between you and me is that to me it was a good show, whereas to you it is a frighteningly obsessive lifestyle. I'm not even talking about all those images of a shirtless Captain Picard you created in Photoshop. I'm talking about the uniforms and the phaser you wear on your belt to work. Consider yourself lucky that Blockbuster Video doesn't have a dress code policy that includes a rule against fake ray guns and communicator badges. I'm sure it wasn't something that entered the minds of the soulless corporate Human Resources people that think up dress codes. You're harmless, Cancer, but incredibly sad. Mercury is on the rise for you, so why don't you beam up there and take a permanent "away mission?".

Leo (July 23 - August 22)

"Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't. Almond Joy's got nuts, Mounds don't." I have had that fucking jingle stuck in my head for three weeks you son of a bitch. You couldn't just eat that fucking candy bar on the bus, you had to hum that stupid jingle the entire time you were eating it (a privilege that took you an unusually long time, by the way). Now I find myself singing that damn thing over and over and over. My neighbors are starting to complain about it. For a while I was just irritated, but then I just started crying and even thought I was going a little crazy. Then it came to me, your true insidious form. I know what you are Leo, some kind of low-level Grief Demon that rides public buses and casts musical spells on hapless Astrologers. After week two of sleeplessness, the stars gave me a sign of my salvation in the form of a large can of mace I found at the flea-market, shortly after purchasing an ornate dagger from a man with seven fingers. Now I too ride the bus with a mission, Leo. I will use my Flash Pass to hunt you to the edges of Western New York. Oh, and Neptune is on the rise, so play the Lotto.

Virgo (August 23 - September 22)

I know this is a hard time for you, Virgo, but please understand that Grandma is in a better place. It's called the Shady Acres Community. You see, sweetheart, after Grandpa died last month, your Grandma became something of a burden with all of her crying and phone calls about not knowing why her house was up for sale. Shady Acres took all that away, including most of Grandma's personal belongings. There she will be woken up at 6am everyday and made to eat a yummy meal, then dressed and placed in a room with other old people who like to be quiet and stare at the chair legs. She is going to be on such a regimented schedule that Grammy won't need that pesky phone she liked to call us with. Don't worry my little Virgo, we can see Grandma on her birthday…If we aren't going to the beach.

Libra (September 23 - October 22)

Libra, you're one of those sad and miserable people who report cable theft. What kills me is that you actually believe those commercials that vilify the people with "illegal" hookups. Just because you weren't smart enough to offer the cable guy thirty bucks and a beer when he was hooking up your neighbors house doesn't mean you should get mad at those who do. Cable providers give as much of a shit about their paying customers as a shark cares about mistaking a surfer for a seal. Just think back on the numerous "we don't really give a shit" responses you've received from them when your cable is out for six hours. Think about that the next time you write out that eighty-seven dollar check…Dickhead.

Scorpio (October 23 - Nov 21)

Scorpio, Scorpio, Scorpio, how many times do you have to be told not to eat frozen tacos the night before a big date? You know as well as I do that those goddamned things should come with a six-pack of toilet paper and a newspaper. There is not a car in existence that has enough windows you can roll down to rid the vehicle of the uncontrollable gaseous stench emanating from your body. That poor girl actually bought a new dress for the big date and now she has to throw it out because it smells worse than a public bathroom in a fourteenth century ghetto. Did you really have to eat three of those things? The next time you have a date try to think things through and eat a salad.

Sagittarius (November 22 - December 21)

Everyone enjoys a good fart, Sagittarius, but that job interview wasn't the proper venue for your intestinal air show. Wasn't it enough that you lifted your entire right ass cheek off the chair to release the monster? You had to make the "Well, that's gonna leave a mark" comment? That poor bastard was locked in a 6'x8' office with your internal stench, a smell not unlike that of a long-dead ox. Suffice to say, Sagittarius, I don't think you'll be getting a call back for a second interview. Nor will anyone else, until the Hazmat crew can give the all clear.

Capricorn (December 22 - January 19)

Just because your life lacks meaning doesn't dictate that others have the same issues, Capricorn. Perhaps you should take that into consideration the next time you decide to pick a thirty-five-minute fight with a cashier at the grocery store over an expired five-cent coupon. In a perfect world someone would have taken that nickel, bought five penny nails and pounded them into your thick useless skull with a box of frozen vegetables. Look to Venus for wisdom, Capricorn; had you argued with your Lexus dealer the same way you tormented that poor kid over a fucking "Pudding Pops" coupon, you might have gotten the sunroof you wanted so badly.

Aquarius (January 20 - February 19)

Remember when you were eight years old and your mother sweetly told you that when you grew up you could be President of the United States? Well little did she know how true her words were, because you are a lying, thieving, greedy and perverse dirt bag, completely devoid of ethics. When the resume of your life comes across the table, I guarantee that the leadership of the Republican Party with collectively cream in their pants. I'd wish you ill, Aquarius, but hideous people like you seem to live long and healthy lives, whereas good people die in mysterious plane crashes. Look to Mercury, you piece of shit, and don't worry about what it costs to get into the White House because your ticket to Hell has been pre-paid.

© Copyright 2005, The Beast, All rights reserved.