Your HoroscopeGemstones, colors, and planetary alignment are the traditional ingredients in the astrological stew. Unfortunately they emphasize nature to the exclusion of nurture, thereby yielding one-dimensional, lifeless predictions. Catmando, however, believes that nurture is destiny.
Week of July 28
Why let your fate be determined by such trivialities as the position of Leo in the house of Sagittarius or the degree to which Mars has his vector up Jupiter's ass? In truth, the vehicles we drive are the engines that drive our happiness. If you've been spinning your wheels on life's limited-access highway of late, perhaps it's because you're behind the wheel of the wrong kind of machine. Catmando's First Annual New and Used Carma Guide will help you get your rear in gear and keep your peddle to the metal.
Leo (7/23–8/22): An armor-plated pickup truck with an extended cab and wheels the size of Rhode Island will carry you wherever your dreams envision—especially if you get the Danica Patrick model with the pear-shaped twin auxiliary gas tanks.
Virgo (8/23–9/22): A vintage 1967 VW bus with the Cheech and Chong all-natural exterior—and smoke alarms throughout—is your ticket to ride this summer. Still capable of doing 0 to 60 in five minutes, this dream machine will deliver more smiles to the miles, and make you glad you kept your old eight-track tapes.
Libra (9/23–10/23): The road to hog heaven calls. Ditch that silly sport utility vehicle and get yourself a customized Harley-Davidson Easy Rider, replete with 500-channel television, surround-sound stereo, fold-down Formica dining area, and hideaway dry-cleaning unit.
Scorpio (10/24–11/21): Nothing says "I'm my own person" louder than a Studebaker, a car that was so far ahead of its time it looked as if was standing still even when it was moving. A deco delight, the Studebaker continues to thrill the truly outre. Get one in pink with silver trim for added effect.
Sagittarius (11/22–12/21): Your recent conversion to a holistic, centered lifestyle—which you made without sacrificing your puckish sense of humor—demands nothing less than the entrance than can only be made from a Steve Urkel electric car. Practice saying "Did I do that?" as you get out of your Urkelmobile after parking in your neighbor's flower bed.
Capricorn (12/22–1/19): Your flair for the unconventional cries out for a Corvair. Like this classic auto, you have often been said to be unsafe at any speed. If you want to show all those front-engine fogies that big brother isn't going to tell you what to drive, get a '63 Corvair with a "Ralph Who?" bumper sticker.
Aquarius (1/20–2/18): Unlike the rest of America, which missed the point about the Edsel, you have always appreciated its subtlety and daring. Now's the time to come out of the automotive closet. Get the Edsel that Aunt Clementine left you out of storage and, with the radio blasting "Born to Be Wild," head out on the highway.
Pisces (2/19–3/20): The Sportsman's Motor Condo with hot tub, patio, observation deck, and autopilot is the one vehicle that can accommodate your muddled sense of direction, fondness for strong drink, and phobia about sleeping in strange beds. Don't leave home without one.
Aries (3/21–4/19): The Humvee, with its tanklike construction, plush interior, and military bearing, is just the thing for a hostile corporate takeover or a spur-of-the-moment getaway to your favorite off-road Valhalla. The Pentagon pays upwards of $8 million for one, but you can get a low-mileage, previously commandeered bargain for about 60K.
Taurus (4/20–5/20): The Austin Powers, a built-to-scale replica of the Austin Healy, is the perfect car for Taurans. It exudes style and verve while excluding all driving partners with children, dogs, or a BMI greater than 35. The removable passenger seat is an attractive option for those who truly enjoy their own company best.
Gemini (5/21–6/21): If you can't afford $1.4 million for a Maybach Landaulet—and who besides a possession-crazed hip-hop "artist" can—consider a Zwieback instead. Your baby will love the toast-colored interior and the edible car seat.
Cancer (6/22–7/22): As the days grow shorter following the summer solstice, your prospects diminish, too. Every yahoo driving with no insurance and an expired license is down at the gas-and-go stoking up on coffee and day-old Twinkies. Leave your car in the garage and lease a Rent-a-Wreck if you must leave home before Labor Day.
The Grammar PrickMeaner than a powdery, old-hag English teacher, The Grammar Prick will split your head if you split an infinitive.
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Postcards the BookThe book that inspired a website is available from Cedar Tree Books. Written by someone who was actually raised by pugs, Postcards is a welcome addition to any nightstand.
Sample chapters . . . 1 2
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