Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Astrologer’s Note: Okay, I’m really finished this time. You won’t have the Mysterious Professor Zoltan to kick around any more. I’m outta here. Hey – would I lie?
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): Your money problems can be solved easily: send all of your money to me, and then you won’t have any to worry about. Remember, that address is:
Mysterious Professor Zoltan
c/o The Westmoreland News
Montross, VA 22520
Cash or money order preferred.
Virgo (Aug. 23 – Sept. 22): Share a smile with someone this week. But don’t share your toothbrush. That’s disgusting.
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22): You know what? On the day that they covered Libras in Horoscope School, I played hooky and went to a Phillies game. Sorry.
Scorpio (Oct. 23 – Nov. 21): Your lucky day for the lottery is June 23, 1993. I hope you were playing that day.
Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20): Don’t you think it’s weird that you drive on a parkway, and you park on a driveway? Yeah, well I think that’s weird, too. Oh, and some stuff will happen to you this week, also.
Gemini (May 21 – June 20): Orion is moving into the house of Gemini, as is Sirius. That either means that you will have a romantic weekend or that you will grow an extra head. I’m not sure which.
Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19): Take some time to relax this week. Kick back with some lemonade. Unplug the phone for a while. Shoot out the televsion if Richard Simmons is on it. Blame household messes on “those darn invisible muskrats.” Call up “Judy the Time/Life Books Operator” and ask her out. It’s okay.
Aries (March 21 – April 19): I predict that if you play for a Major League Baseball team this week, you will go on strike.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21): You will discover the secret formula for X-ray goggles that really work. Flushed by scientific achievement, you will go out to celebrate your discovery and the neighbors’ dog will eat all your research.
Aquarius (Jan. 20 – Feb. 18): Eat more apples.
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Have you ever considered just changing your birthday?
Leo (July 23 – Aug. 22): Strive for immortality this week. You know how Benjamin Franklin said that the only two certainties in life are “death and taxes?” Well, you can apply to the government for special tax-exempt status! See if you can figure out whom to apply to to get death-exempt status.
Horoscope Special:
I received a letter this week containing a bunch of green paper with “funny money” written on it and a question. This is obviously a) a disturbed individual with b) much too much free time who c) should not be allowed access to the Xerox machine. However, their question was a fair one: when will “when pigs fly” be? Here is a quick guide to this type of occurrence:
When pigs fly: April 9, 1991. I hope you were watching that day, because they did.
When the cows come home: Duh. At dinner-time.
When Hell freezes over: Next March 7th.
When the Cubs win the pennant: October 12, 2639.
When Westmoreland News horoscopes are funny: Good luck.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Editor’s Note: We here at the Westmoreland News pride ourselves on being responsive to our readers. We have received numerous requests from our readers to stop making the horoscopes funny. This aroused some confusion, as we really didn’t think they were funny to begin with. However, your wish is our command, and this represents the final issue of the Mysterious Professor Zoltan’s tenure as Staff Astrologer.
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Well that’s just great. They’re firing me. Wonderful. I hate you all. Do you hear me? I’m gonna go down the subscription list and come to everybody’s house with a bazooka. Oh? You want a horoscope? Here’s your flippin’ horoscope: I’m having a rotten week and I think you should too.
Leo (July 23 – Aug. 22): Consider your business dealings with strangers carefully. Make your move to let someone know you care. Eat lots of fruit. And believe everything you read.
Virgo (Aug. 23 – Sept. 22): There is a great amount of money in your future this week. Unfortunately, it is somebody else’s money. Stay alert this week: opportunities are here! They are bad opportunities, but they’re opportunities anyway.
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22): Be careful in your business dealings this week: don’t fall for that old “I’ll trade you two tens for a five” trick. Avoid Tauruses and corrugated aluminum siding.
Scorpio (Oct. 23 – Nov. 21): Alright, you didn’t send me any money, so here’s your horoscope: you will die in the next 24 hours.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21): This is the dawning of the aaage of Sagittariuuuus! da-dah The aaage of … that just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it? Never mind.
Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19): You should take yourself too seriously this week. Like me.
Aquarius (Jan. 20 – Feb. 18): Be sure to recycle this week: cans, bottles, motor oil, unwanted family members, you name it. Keep an eye open for something which will happen this week and don’t worry about something else, which will not happen.
Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20): Did you send me any money last week? Huh? No! Nobody did! Do you think it’s easy coming up with horoscopes week after week? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to cash checks addressed to “The Mysterious Professor Zoltan?” Well, no money – no horoscope.
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): This would be a good week to stay home and catch up on soaps. Avoid Sagittariuses and rat poison.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Dear Mme. Mannerisms:
Last night my husband and I had some dear old friends over for dinner. After our repast, we had some light sherry cocktails. In fact, our dear old friends had about fifteen each and began behaving inappropriately. We tried saying that we were out of sherry but they ran upstairs and drank all our cold medication. We tried excusing ourselves but they said, “That’s fine. We’ll just stay here and break things.” Eventually we got them to leave, but only after they had destroyed our china and eaten our drapes. But today I wonder if this was the proper thing to do. What is the acceptable way of dealing with cherished visitors who have gotten bombed out of their minds?
Signed, Worried in Waukeegan
Dear Worried:
Politely ask them to be more sociable in their behavior. If they keep it up, shoot them.
Dear Mme. Mannerisms:
Is it proper to serve three silver forks if one is having a seafood appetizer between the salad and cognac, but before the main dinner course?
Signed, Questioning in Quamsattucket
Dear Questioning:
Yeah, right. Just steal a bunch of those plastic “sporks” from Kentucky Fried Chicken. You can eat anything with those.
Dear Mme. Mannerisms:
Is it proper for a lady to ask a gentleman out on a date? If so, should the lady first request some sort of social activity with other persons in the party, if an unchaperoned date is too forward?
Signed, Confused in Cleveland
Dear Confused:
Get with it. It’s the nineties. You should not only feel free to ask a guy out, but to insist that they go out with you and threaten them if they don’t. The next time you meet a man in a proper social situation, like a church function, funeral, or sleazy topless bar, ask him out and tell him that if he says “No,” you’re going to tell all his friends that he is gay. If he is gay, tell him that you’ll tell all his friends that he’s straight. Or you can tell a young gentleman politely that you have a snub-nosed .38 pointed at him that you’re not afraid to use. It works surprisingly well.
Dear Mme. Mannerisms:
I was at a dinner a few nights ago and I was eating the veal course when I took a bite and found that my veal was very undercooked. I excused myself and placed my napkin over my mouth and placed the veal in the napkin, but I was left with a soiled napkin and an uncomfortable situation. What is the best way to remove unpleasant food from one’s mouth at a polite dinner?
Signed, Embarrassed in Edgeville
Dear Embarrassed:
Spit it out at the host who served you the crap.
Dear Mme. Mannerisms:
What is the proper gift for a couple on their sixth anniversary? I know that certain anniversaries have a certain gift intended for them: first anniversary, paper; fifth, wood; twenty-fifth, silver, seventy-fifth, diamond; and so on. What are the proper gifts for anniversaries six through ten?
Signed, Unknowing in Underwood
Dear Unknowing:
Sixth anniversary: dried leaves
Seventh anniversary: fake rubber cat droppings or whoopee cushions
Eight anniversary: lint
Ninth anniversary: magnesium
Tenth aniversary: loose change
Dear Mme. Mannerisms:
I am horribly worried about the impending arrival of my cousin, who is coming to visit for a week. He always brings his cat, which is not housebroken, and his 8-month-old daughter, who is not housebroken either. Furthermore, he insists on commandeering the television set to watch Hee-Haw reruns at all hours of the day and night, and becomes violently mad if everyone else does not “Hee-Haw” with him. Worst of all, he has not brushed his teeth since 1978, and I am afraid that his breath will melt my porcelain collection. I am so upset about his arrival that I’m fretting at all hours of the day and night. What can I do?
Signed, Sleepless in Seattle
Dear Sleepless:
Move. If he does find you and come to visit, ask him politely to be more sociable in his behavior. If he persists, shoot him.
It seems that we have run out of space for this week, but please keep your questions and comments coming – by the way, a check for $20 will help – to:
Dear Madamoiselle Mannerisms
c/o Westmoreland News
Montross, VA 22520
And remember: manners are as good as gold, but not as good as an American Express gold card.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): This is a good week for something, but now I don’t remember what it was. Sorry.
Virgo (Aug. 23 – Sept. 22): Let me put it this way: somebody up there can’t stand you. Also, this would be a good week to quit smoking, because I’m quitting smoking this week and I want somebody else to be as miserable as I am.
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22): This week you will reach your highest intellectual peak as you think of a revolutionary new process for printing by putting moveable type on to a reusable printing press. Then you will realize that Gutenberg thought of that already, about 400 years ago, and feel really silly. But it’s the thought that counts.
Scorpio (Oct. 23 – Nov. 21): Don’t be afraid to stand up for what’s yours this week. Unless you don’t want it, in which case you’d better sit down before anybody realizes it’s yours.
Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20): Pisces women: avoid Taurus men this week: they are lazy, crude, insensitive, and have one-track-I’m-interested-in-just-one-thing-baby-and-I’m-not-talking-about-Yahtzee minds. Then again, so do all men. Go figure.
Gemini (May 21 – June 20): Would you like to get a degree at home? Refrigeration technology? Gun repair? TV or VCR repair? Well, tough luck. But you can order the do-it-yourself Astrologer kit from the Westmoreland News. In twenty-six short weeks, you too can be a fully accredited astrologer, just like the Mysterious Professor Zoltan. Just send lots and lots of money to:
Mysterious Professor Zoltan
c/o The Westmoreland News
Montross, VA. 22520
Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19): This week you should do some things. You should also not do other things. There are also things which you might or might not do, and these things may or may not be lucky depending upon what you did in the first place. I can’t tell you any more without spoiling the whole thing.
Aries (March 21 – April 19): Earnlay a ewnay anguagelay isthay eekway.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21): This week you will be contacted by space aliens who will take you to a faraway planet and show you the mysteries of the universe. You will also be contacted by illegal aliens who will take you to a faraway alley and steal your wallet.
Aquarius (Jan. 20 – Feb. 18): This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius. Da – dah-da-dah-dah-da – dum -da-dah … the aaaage of Aquaaariiuuuuuuus!
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): It may not be anything serious, but you do look kinda pale.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
We here at the Westmoreland News pride ourselves on being responsive to our readers. So, we decided to take this opportunity to answer some of the most frequently-asked questions about the newspaper and how it comes, fresh and piping hot, to your door every week except for those weeks when we really don’t feel like it. So let’s open up the ol’ mailbag … and trust me, it’s heavier than you can shake a stick at … and answer some of those reader questions.
Q: Who writes the Westmoreland News?
A: Well, that is a rather complicated question. Originally, the newspaper was written by clever trained seals, using special typewriters with very, very large keys. The newspaper won several awards for journalistic excellence, but eventually the rising cost of fish forced the paper’s management to return the seals to the wild. Later the seals all went to work for Entertainment Tonight.
For a short while in the 1960s, the Westmoreland News was written by human reporters. While they had certain advantages over the seals – opposable thumbs for using the coffee machine, for example – this strategy was later abandoned in favor of more cost-effective methods.
Have you ever heard the theory that if you had an infinite number of monkeys, typing away at an infinite number of typewriters, that one of them would eventually type Hamlet? Well, from 1962 to 1976, a full-time staff of twelve monkeys actually did type the Westmoreland News. While there were small problems – some complained about the overuse of the phrase “going bananas” in the paper – for the most part, things ran smoothly, and the monkeys actually made fewer misspellings and typographical errors than any other staff to this day.
During the late 1970s, the paper’s management decided it would be cheaper simply not to publish a newspaper at all. Between 1977 and 1986, over 350,000 blank newspapers were passed out, while the populace was told that the paper was simply “written in invisible ink.” Because nobody could remember whether you were supposed to rub milk or lemon juice or whatever it was to be able to read invisible ink, nobody tried it and hence nobody noticed until the mid-eighties.
Scandal struck in 1987 when a 3rd grader, working on a science project, discovered the formula for decoding invisible ink, applied it to the newspaper, and discovered that there actually wasn’t anything there. Mass hysteria ensued, and the paper was threatened with violence by its former “invisible advertisers.” The newspaper’s owners needed to find a rational explanation for what had happened, and after careful consideration they decided to blame the whole thing on ink-sucking giant killer mutant space wombats.
The public bought the wombat story, but the paper’s management still needed a staff. Various options – more seals, escaped mental patients, even just xeroxing the Washington Post and sticking a new name on it – were considered. Eventually, they decided on hiring space alien robots to write the newspaper. These plucky, humanoid-looking, inhuman mechanized monsters have been writing the Westmoreland News since 1988, and we’re still going strong. And remember – “To Serve Man” is our motto.
Q: How long does it take to make each week’s newspaper?
A: It takes the Westmoreland News’ full staff of 55 alien robots over six weeks to produce each action-packed newspaper.
Q: But the paper comes out once a week. How can it possibly take six weeks to make the paper?
A: Look, we’re journalists, not mathematicians. Next question?
Q: Where do you get your ideas for stories from?
A: Once a week, the newspaper’s writing staff gets together for a story conference. They get together with a pot of coffee and an ounce of marijuana and gets stoned out of their minds and say things like, “Wow … wouldn’t it be, like, cool, to do a story on if trees can dream?” Because most of the ideas generated at these story conferences are just as stupid as that one, most of the ideas that actually get used have to come from somewhere else.
Many of our ideas come from you – the community. Occasionally someone will throw a rock in through the office window with a note tied to it with a story idea. Other times, someone will write in to tell us how they think we’re doing. After we disarm the bomb that comes with it and scrape the flaming dog poo off of the letter and read it, we will sometimes find an idea for a story.
However, most of our ideas come from the time-honored journalistic tradition of stealing them from another newspaper.
Q: Does the newspaper take and develop its own photographs?
A: Yes and no. The Westmoreland News does, in fact, have its own picture department, but they aren’t actually photographs. Our reporters carry around small boxes that look like cameras but actually have tiny people living inside them. When the shutter opens, these tiny artistic wonders draw everything they see on a little pad of paper there inside the “camera.” The public should feel safe in the knowledge that its little newspaper is on the cutting edge of technology.
Q: Is the Westmoreland News famous for anything?
A: Of course. Aside from the period of social activism when the Westmoreland News led the fight to get the Virginia State Song changed to “We Will Rock You,” the paper is famed for its 100% correctness in its weather forecasts.
Q: But you don’t have any weather forecasts.
A: Mind your own damn business. Next question?
Q: Are you people actually being paid for this junk?
A: Well, it seems that we’re out of space for the reader mailbag this week. Remember to keep those cards, letters and small ticking packages coming so we can respond to your ideas and requests, because every letter to the Westmoreland News is opened, read, and considered by the whole staff. Then, the spelling and grammar errors are circled and the staff gets together and laughs at the person who wrote the letter.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): This is a week to explore your really wild side. Consider getting a super-size Grand Poobah Meal at McDonald’s this week instead of the regular size.
Virgo (Aug. 23 – Sept. 22): You really should donate some money to a good cause this week. One good cause, for example, is me. So send lots and lots of cash to:
Mysterious Professor Zoltan
c/o The Westmoreland News
Montross, VA. 22520
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22): A stranger will tell you that you look like a movie star this week. Unfortunately, they’re talking about the monster in Vortag the Slag Creature, but it’s the thought that counts. Avoid Geminis and avoid ever admitting that you used to have the Richard Simmons’ Sweating to the Oldies videocassettes.
Scorpio (Oct. 23 – Nov. 21): This would be a good week to give up that old glue-sniffing habit. Be careful around volatile Libras and high-explosives testing sites. Avoid high-cholesterol foods and grumpy people with shotguns this week.
Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20): Some stuff will happen to you this week.
Gemini (May 21 – June 20): Take time to remember your loved ones this week. If nobody loves you, then never mind. If there’s someone who has dumped you and you miss them, then aim lower next time.
Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19): This is a special week for you financially: if you keep your eyes peeled and your nose to the ground and you follow up on a special hint given to you this week … you’ll lose your shirt and end up lying in the middle of the road drinking cheap wine and telling everybody that the squirrels are talking to you.
Aries (March 21 – April 19): Did you know the scientific process used to make these horoscopes? Psychic Astrologers like myself have mystic dart boards, covered with star signs. We make up forecasts, throw the darts, and whatever star sign the dart lands in gets that horoscope. Seriously. Jeanne Dixon does it all the time.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21): Your divorce from Catherine of Aragorn this week will cause great distress in the kingdom. Seek to found an Anglican church by allying with the German princes protesting Pope Innocent VII’s power over the Holy Roman Emperor and his political domination of the Bourbon aristocracy in France. Also remember to get a haircut.
Aquarius (Jan. 20 – Feb. 18): This is a bad week for financial dealings. This is also a bad week for arguing with loved ones or even unloved ones. In fact, this is going to be a just plain stinky week all the way around. Give up and go back to bed.
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Look on the bright side. You’re not an Aquarius. And that Mickey Mantle card you thought you lost could turn up in an old copy of Playboy you thought your Mom threw away 20 years ago.
Leo (July 23 – Aug. 22): Do you ever wonder if trees can dream? Then you have too much free time. Get a life this week. Avoid Pisces and drinking moldy eggnog.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): Your agent will call this week with a fantastic offer. If you don’t have an agent, then hang up because it’s a wrong number.
Virgo (Aug. 23 – Sept. 22): Get in touch with your spiritual self this week. Watch all of the “Oh, God” movies and reruns of “Amen.” Take time to keep in touch with faraway loved ones, but do it after 11 p.m. when the phone rates are cheap. Avoid Leos and hang-gliding.
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22): In your spare time this week, try designing new interior decorations or a fusion reactor that runs on pizza crusts. Whatever you do this week, for God’s sake don’t … well, never mind.
Scorpio (Oct. 23 – Nov. 21): By pure chance, the Hollywood screen idol of your dreams will drop by your house this week, but you will be out shopping. This is a good week to put things off that you don’t feel like doing. Then again, it’s always a good week to put off things that you don’t feel like doing.
Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20): Your stars have been in an extraordinary conjunction – it means an incredible opportunity. It actually means that there was one last week, but you didn’t know about it, so forget it. This week, avoid Tauruses and Buicks.
Gemini (May 21 – June 20): Indulge your sassy side this week – do something zany. Just remember that the age of consent in Virginia is 18; anything over $200 is Grand Larceny, which is a felony; nobody thinks that swallowing live goldfish is funny anymore; and just because I said it doesn’t mean you have to do it.
Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19): Take time to stop and smell the roses this week. But if you’re standing there, sniffing someone named Rose and they call you a pervert and beat the hell out of you, don’t be surprised. Avoid Scorpios this week and Ronald Reagan movies.
Aries (March 21 – April 19): This is an amazing week for … hey, if you’re not an Aries, stop reading this. Yeah, I mean you. It’s none of your business. Yeah, sure you’re an Aries. I believe you. Stop reading this and go back to your own horoscope. I’m not kidding. Alright, fine, have it your way, nosey. I just won’t tell you.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21): Take some time this week to spend with your lover. If you don’t have a lover, then buy an inflatable doll and dress them up and call them “Irving” or “Weezie” and spend time with them.
Aquarius (Jan. 20 – Feb. 18): I won’t say anything about this week for you except you should remember that the police need to have a warrant before they can officially search your house or tap your phone.
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Have you had your prostate examined recently?
Leo (whatever is left over): Whoops. I ran out of forecasts. Make something up for yourself.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): Keep an eye on the Prime Lending Rate. If the Federal Reserve Board moves it below 3.69 percent, move ahead with the GNMA purchases setup and the NASDAQ greenmail sharetrading on the Japanese corporate market, to receive untaxed bonds and diversionary income. Also, remember to water your plants.
Virgo (Aug. 23 – Sept. 22): You will receive a patent this week for inventing a new kind of margarine that can be used as rocket fuel. Avoid Scorpios and state police troopers.
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22): You are moving into a new cycle in your love life: you will soon meet “someone special” and begin a wonderful romance. However, this will not make your current “someone special” terribly happy. You will also receive important mail this week. It will be a lawsuit from the “someone special” mentioned above.
Scorpio (Oct. 23 – Nov. 21): Let your “sassy” side show this week. Get a little racy. Wear some exotic lingerie for that special someone, unless you are man, in which case you’d feel pretty strange wearing a black lace brassiere. Of course, if you are a man and you don’t feel strange wearing a brassiere, you’ve got bigger problems.
Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20): This is your lucky week. Enjoy it, because next week is going to be awful.
Gemini (May 21 – June 20): This is an awful week.
Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19): Do you remember the episode of the Brady Bunch where they are visiting Hawaii and they take a cursed Tiki doll and then everything starts going wrong and Greg wipes out in the surfing competition? If so, you watch way too much TV. Get a life. Avoid Tauruses and rat poison.
Aries (March 21 – April 19): This will be a lucky week if you send me lots of money. It will be a lucky week for me, anyway.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21): You probably should not grow a stylish “Hitler” mustache to win friends and impress people. If you are a woman, you should definitely not grow a “Hitler” mustache. Your star is in a rare harmonic conjunction with Libra this week; it doesn’t actually mean anything, but it’s interesting.
Aquarius (Jan. 20 – Feb. 18): If you flip a coin this week, it will probably come up “heads.” Invest in money market accounts, negotiable bonds, and rare Elvis singles. Absolutely, positively do not do the “Watusi” with anyone wearing fur pajamas and green sunglasses this week.
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Don’t smoke. It’s bad for you.
Working at the Westmoreland News in 1994 was the best summer job I ever had. I worked for peanuts and had a two hour drive each way from Richmond, but I got to do it all at a small county newspaper where I was a reporter, feature writer, copy editor, layout editor and photographer (because there was nobody else to do those things). Best of all the paper’s editor, Lynn Norris, gave me the freedom to write whatever I wanted – way more journalistic and comedic freedom than anyone should rightly give a know-it-all 21-year-old writing for a weekly in the deeply rural Northern Neck of Virginia.
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): This is a good time for business dealings. Buy things which will make money. Don’t buy things which won’t make money. Avoid Scorpios and foods with lots of saturated fats.
Virgo (Aug. 23 – Sept. 22): Your name may or may not be Edgar. If it is, you’re in big trouble. If it isn’t, then don’t worry about it. Don’t watch too much TV this week: it’s bad for your eyes.
Libra (Sept. 23 – Oct. 22): Avoid starchy foods. You will soon meet a tall, handsome stranger who will mug you and take all your money.
Scorpio (Oct. 23 – Nov. 21): This is a time for reconciling with loved ones who you care about, but have fought with. If you don’t care about them, then to hell with them.
Pisces (Feb. 19 – Mar. 20): Your star is in an unusual position. This probably means that you will buy either a Village People album or the “Shaft’s Big Score” soundtrack in the next few days. And then you will feel stupid for having bought them. Or maybe it doesn’t mean that. I really don’t know. And, in fact, I’m not a Pisces, so I couldn’t care less.
Gemini (May 21 – June 20): If your name is George and you’re curious, beware the man in the yellow hat. Also, remember: there may still be pieces of Skylab floating around out there. Be sure to floss frequently or tartar build-up may occur.
Capricorn (Dec. 22 – Jan. 19): If you see a large, green, scaly monster with huge, hideous teeth and fangs this week, don’t go near it. It will probably eat you. This is also a good time for investing, unless, of course, you go near the monster, in which case it won’t be a good time for anything.
Aries (March 21 – April 19): Romance is entering your life this week in the form of a flashy stranger. Don’t get too excited, because it is also exiting your life a couple days later. Renew your expensive magazine subscriptions this week, but give them somebody else’s address.
Sagittarius (Nov. 22 – Dec. 21): If somebody offers you fifty bucks this week, take it. If somebody offers you a moldy old banana, don’t take it, because it will probably make you sick and die, which is bad luck. Your decision to pursue a career as a human minesweeper may not work out as well as you hoped.
Aquarius (Jan. 20 – Feb. 18): Be careful with your health this week. This is a bad time for business dealings with Libras or space aliens. Don’t forget to water your lawn. Remember that you can save money by calling collect and sticking your loved ones with the bill. You are lucky this week: your chances of winning the Virginia State Lottery are merely 1 in 6.3 million, down from 7.1 million last week.
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Don’t smoke. It’s bad for you.
It occurs to me now that topical humor from college campuses nearly 30 years ago does not age well. I’m sure it was absolutely hilarious at the time, though. Enjoy!
Editor’s Note: I lied.
We here at The Collegian pride ourselves on being responsive to our readers. We are also responsive to being poked by sticks. Go figure.
It is customary at this point in the academic year for many editorialists to provide a year’s-end wrap-up of all the fascinating things that have happened this year. That’s boring with a capital “D.” I mean, you already know what happened, so what’s so exciting about that? Which is why, as a service to our readers, we are presenting a wrap-up of next year.
1994-5 AT THE UNIVERSITY OF RICHMOND:AN ODD YEAR
• Aug. 28, 1994: Returning to school, the Board of Trustees finds that its accountant has invested the University’s endowment in several bad blackjack games in Las Vegas over the summer and then took the last few remaining thousand dollars to buy a one-way ticket to Nepal. Comments one board member, “I guess this means the ‘Jepson School of TV and VCR Repair and Refrigeration Technology’ deal is off.”
• Aug. 31: The University Police launches on a bold plan of “getting tough on campus crime.” First step: all parking tickets after the fifth ticket result in the University taking your car away and selling it for spare parts.
• Sep. 7: As a publicity stunt, the members of campus band “9 Divine” kill themselves onstage. This performance statement is met with overwhelming response from music critics, although it is uncertain whether the praise is for their supreme dedication to art in music or just because they waxed themselves. The band members, currently dead at the present time, are unable to be reached for comment.
• Sep. 14: Looking for some extra cash, the University begins loaning out Westhampton Lake as a toxic waste disposal site. Russian whaling ships are occasionally seen on the lake, late at night, dumping nuclear waste.
• Sep. 20: The University administration adds a last-minute addendum to fall fraternity Rush rules: nobody is allowed to Rush.
• Oct. 3: Campus religous groups unite for the second “Pray for Revival” campaign. It is declared a qualified success when the voice of God orders TV stations to revive episodes of “The Jeffersons.” “We’re getting closer,” says one Baptist Student Union representative.
• Oct. 9: To save on food expenses, the residence hall water fountains are removed. The University dumps 850 lbs. of Kool-Aid mix into the fountain in the administrative triangle and tells everyone to go there if they get thirsty.
Aerosmith Girl
• Oct. 20: The first Virginia senatorial debate between Oliver North, Douglas Wilder and Aerosmith Girl is held in the Robins Center. After the debate, North is offered an honorary Doctorate of Leadership from the Jepson School, but turns it down. “What I really wanted was a degree in refrigeration technology or TV and VCR repair,” he explains.
• Nov. 12: Due to budget cutbacks as a result of the infamous “Puppy Chow incident,” the E. Bruce Heilman Dining Center saves money by switching to serving Swanson “Hungry Man” dinners.
• Nov. 29: The third “Pray for Revival” campaign is launched, but due to a typographical error, everyone ends up praying for “revisal.” Within a week, all term papers on campus are mysteriously cleared of spelling and grammar problems. “Well, it was a simple mistake,” explains one Campus Crusade for Christ member, “but the important thing is that we’re getting results.”
• Dec. 2: In a seemingly unrelated incident, Bob Vila of “This Old House” is found dead at home with a suicide note and a power drill.
• Dec. 8: The police announce that they have made two arrests as a result of an investigation started when they received a complaint that someone was stealing everything on campus every night and replacing it with an exact duplicate before everyone got up. “Now you know why we have guns,” explains one police officer.
• Dec. 16: The school is covered in over 16 feet of snow in a freak blizzard. Students are advised to crawl out second-floor windows onto the snow to get to exams.
• Jan. 12, 1995: Students return to classes. That’s it. Nothing funny happens.
• Jan. 18: Due to further budget cutbacks, the D-Hall switches to the even less expensive Swanson “Big, Sweaty Man” dinners and Hostess “Zingers” for dessert.
• Feb. 16: The fourth “Pray for Revival” campaign ends in failure as Vivarin mystically appears in everyone’s food and the campus collectively gets wired and stays up for five days. “It’s nice because I had extra study time,” explains one student, “but I think my eyeballs are drying out. I haven’t blinked for three days.”
• Feb. 25: Getting desperate, the University announces that it has begun investing in magic beans it bought from some guy on the way to market.
• Feb. 29: The University police announce that they are opening an investigation on reports that the trees around the lake uproot themselves and walk around campus at night and eat the campus dogs.
• March 3: The University forces the Shanghai Quartet to play on downtown street corners for spare change. Within a week, two members have been mugged, another has been killed in a drive-by shooting and another has given up the cello to become a pimp.
• March 6: A large, black, rectangular monolith appears on campus and is taken to the Gottwald Science Building for study. Soon thereafter, the UR Vax computer goes insane and attempts to cut off the life support systems of the hibernating scientists and crush one of the student assistants in its mechanical arms outside the ship. Fortunately, no one is hurt because there really isn’t anybody in suspended animation and the UR Vax doesn’t have mechanical arms, and it’s not on a spaceship. The old Vax 8000 computer is soon replaced when the school buys a new mainframe, the updated HAL 9000.
• March 26: The University’s use of the lake as a toxic waste dump ends in a debacle as a particularly bad algae bloom develops consciousness and crawls out of the lake and begins eating the Commons. “Look,” explains a Board of Trustees member, “nobody was using the downstairs room anyway.”
• April 2: The D-Hall, denied funds again after the infamous “fried or baked sloth” incident, shifts as a final cost-cutting measure to serving only Taco Bell seven-layer burritos and tater-tots, with “Crisco-sicles” for dessert.
• April 16: The University begins spending the last few dollars in its bank account on Virginia state lottery tickets. “Well, somebody has to win,” explains one trustee.
• April 19: The fifth and final “Pray for Revival” campaign ends in disaster as the dead come alive again and walk the earth as zombies preying on the living. Former Chancellor Boatwright is seen in the library, terrorizing students with overdue books and eating Lexis/Nexis terminals. Massive turmoil is caused as long-dead Confederate veterans begin holding New Jersey students hostage and repeatedly calling up the WDCE request line to request “Freebird.” “Sorry,” explains one Baptist Student Union member after the turmoil dies down, “next time we’ll be more specific about what we want to be revived.”
• May 4: The University of Richmond’s ship finally comes in as one of the lottery tickets it had invested in pays off and the endowment is restored. When asked about the lucky lottery success, one board member simply replies, “We’re going to Disneyland!”
Pretty exciting year, wasn’t it? You betcha. Well, that’s all the space for this week, so keep those letters and marriage proposals (please include photo) coming to:
Over-the-Cliff Notes Groupie Club
c/o The Collegian Ministry of Propaganda
Freestyler Hanes Commons
University of Wisconsin, VA. 5150
CORRECTIONS: Last week’s column may have contained some statements which were perhaps a little misleading. Okay, I lied like the dog I am. Deal with it. See you next year.
