for the week of: 2/12-18/2001
“Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion’d thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.”
Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act I, scene iii.
Mercury. Silence. Shakespeare’s Polonius. Silence. Mark Twain had some comments about this. There’s a quiz question in the Cancer scope, but it’s certainly open to all folks. I’m really looking for Twain’s criticism about another earlier America novelist. But all good entries are considered for the prize for this week’s question and answer game. Last week, the musical question was about the oldest rattle snake round up in Texas. I guess folks fail to see the connection between a rattlesnake round up and Valentine’s Day; both are upcoming, and around here, both pretty much feel like much the same thing. And what’s the best wish for Valentine’s Day around here? “Hugs and Fishes.” [Editor’s note: we never did get definitive answer about that rattlesnake round up — two places make the same claim, and there certainly wasn’t enough evidence, it would be like stepping into a rattlesnake pit.]
Aries [3. 21 – 4. 19]: Inspiration comes in many forms. There are a multitude of ways to tickle your muse. Personally, I like the little girl called “Thalia.” She’s often represented as a holding a comedy mask in her hand. Now what would a Greek Muse of Comedy have to do with your week? She’s going to strike, and it’s happening at the best possible time, or worst possible time, depending on just how you look at it. And that’s what I mean by inspiration comes from the strangest of places. If you’re willing to let her infect you with a little mirth and laughter, then you’ll do just fine, given the disarray of the planets (especially Mercury.) Lighten up and let the muse of good jokes give you a little tickle. Enjoy it. The less you struggle with the Mercury mayhem, the easier it gets to laugh at the little problems.
Taurus [4. 19 – 5.20]: Your turn is coming. That much is a good promise from me, as the Fishing Guide to the Stars, as an astrologer and as a Texan, I can easily promise that much. The problem — this week — is timing, and the planets seem bound and determined to give you some comic timing. Or timing that should be comic, but looks like it’s a little tragic, right now. It’s the long run, big picture stuff that I would like to call your attention to. Look at the overall image. That looks good, hence me coming through with the promise. The little machinations of Mercury are heavily chronicled elsewhere, just point your browser to the Mercury Tales, or similar diatribes about what happens when this little planet falls out of sorts with the rest of everything. You’re a little out of sorts, too, but that can be easily traced back to Mercury, and you’re going to get by just fine. Eventually. So be patient this week, your turn is coming. Promise.
Gemini [5.21- 6. 21]: “Thwap!” Goes your week. If it’s not one thing hitting you over the head, then it’s another. It’s not all that bad, but I get a distinct image of an early [starter model] wife I had, and I get an image of her there with a frying pan in her hand, “Where have you been!” Notice the careful selection of punctuation — it’s not a question mark, more like a strong, declarative statement, or even an accusation. No Gemini is really guilty, not in my book, and not according to my research, but other signs, and especially starting this week, will find that “they” think the Gemini’s are all guilty parties. Now, you can sulk and fret, or you can do something to help get yourself out of this position. Long, and tired, experience suggests that showing up with just some wilted flowers doesn’t always work. It might be a good start, but you’re going to need something a little stronger than just dead flowers.
Cancer [6. 22 – 7. 22]: As loquacious as he was, Mark Twain had a few good comments about silence. Any of these comments apply right now. In an effort to get your mind off work and troublesome co-workers, drop me an e-mail with one of Twain’s comments about silence, and I’ll see about getting you a free [abbreviated] FGS Planet Profile Chart report to you [e-mail only]. Now, why the concentration on silence? Because the disposition of the planets suggests that you want to talk about it right now, and right now isn’t the best time to do just that. In other words, try committing your thoughts and need for discussion to paper. Skip the idea of communicating with the rest of us because, given the current vibe, we just don’t quite understand the intent of your message. I know you mean well. You know you mean well. The problem is the person that the message is addressed to, they just don’t understand your careful choice of words — c.f., Mark Twain.
Leo [7. 23 – 8. 23]: There’s a tired refrain I get to listen to, bouncing around the Leo camp, thankyouverymuch, “We are DEFINITELY not amused.” I know you’re not amused, and I realize that this is another one of those situations where you are inclined to beat me, the messenger, with this news. It’s just a little, very insignificant planet, Mr. Mercury (messenger of the gods) and he’s the one you should be “not amused” with, not me. It’s not like he’s really troublesome, more like annoying, in a less than quiet way. Yes, Mercury is spinning in a backwards fashion, relative to us on Planet Earth. And to make this an even more untenable position for you and me, he’s in the sign voted most likely to be opposite Leo. Not a good thing. Not a bad thing, but not good. It’s like grabbing a pole, maybe a short stick, and trying to knock a wasp nest off the eaves of the trailer. Miss the mark, and there’s a lot angry guys buzzing around, trying to sting you. If I were a Leo this week, I would be extra careful about pest control — careful around anything with a stinger.
Virgo [8. 24 – 9. 22]: Pisces time is coming, next week. Not this week, but starting before midnight (CST) on Feb. 18, it’s the beginning of Pisces time. And like the midnight allusion, there’s some stuff which has been buried under the cover of the night that is going to be brought to light at this time. So, like the good Virgo that you are, it’s time, like this week, to get ready. Prepare. Remember the bunker you built to hunker in for the whole Millennium Experience? It’s like you’ve got something down there which was fresh when you stored it. It was good idea at the time, but in a cost cutting effort, you shut off the electricity to the bunker, and that lunker is starting to smell. You can wait until next week, and let someone else deal with this, or you can act like the good Virgo that you are, right now, and start dealing with that left over stuff. I know it might have a certain, piquant, aroma to it by now, but a head start this week on uncovering old problems stands you in good stead, next week.
Libra [9. 23 – 10. 22]: Poise is very important, and your are poised to come shooting out of the chute, so to speak, just about any minute now. Or maybe, it’s just about any day now. Better yet, let’s consider it for the coming weekend, instead of right this very minute. Ever watch a rodeo? Try it some time. The gate swings open, and the poor critter (is it the bull or the cowboy who is really in the worst position?) leaps out into the sawdust, trying to shed his rider. If you’re in the right place, if you’ve got that lucky picture of your girlfriend tucked into your pocket, if everything lines up just right, then it’s a great ride, and you win a prize. But if you aren’t in quite the right position when the gate swings wide, it’s either a short ride, or you get ground into the arena’s dirt. So which is it going to be? That’s up to you, but poise is vital right now. You want to make sure you’re in the right place before you start making claims like, “I can ride that sucker.”
Scorpio [10. 23 – 11. 22]: Other folks’ discomfort is a strange place to find solace, but there you are, feeling good and looking at others’ misfortune. Now, if I was a Scorpio — this week I wish I was — I would do my very best not to gloat. Don’t rub it in. Don’t act so superior (even though you are), just because you’ve been battered, deep fried, and come up on top smelling like a delicious chicken fried steak. You’re a tasty morsel of traditional Texas comfort food. If you’re in position where you feel like you’re not completely out of the hot grease yet, then just take a moment, relax, and wait. You’re going to be out of the hot stuff soon enough, and once you’re free, remember, it’s really not in good taste to gloat. Even if you feel like you have no reason to gloat, not yet, just think about this message, a little later in the week. It’ll happen, and there’s no reason to make us feel any worse.
Sagittarius [11. 22 – 12. 22]: “Thump!” goes Mars. Yes, the little Red Orb of many delights is in your sign. Or will be, by the time weekend gets here. Or before the weekend is over — I know it’s one of those. Mr. Mars, ancient dude of war, hey, even the symbol for his planet looks like a spear and sword. And you didn’t think I wouldn’t try to sneak in a little educational mythology, did you? But just like my attempt at being a teacher via the Sagittarius horoscope this week, it doesn’t really work, you’ll find that anything you try that is sneaky, underhanded, or not entirely honest, has a way of going wrong. Be direct and honest. Don’t try any of the usual forms of subterfuge, either, because they just don’t work, not right now. Mars is here for a spell, so gets used to it. So you’re not the quiet and docile Sag that you usually are, so? So blame the little red planet. Better yet, just tell the truth — that usually confounds some of them. “Really, the fish was only about three and half inches long — I had to throw it back.”
Capricorn [12. 23 – 1. 18]: Imagine that you live in trailer park that’s right at the edge of the river in Austin (not much of stretch for me). Then imagine that some paperwork gets screwed up someplace, and then imagine that a tractor-trailer truck cab pulls up to your domicile to move it. It’s supposed to be a repo, but they got something crossed up, and they are trying to take your house. While the real culprit is one of your neighbors, I’d suggest that you talk to the guy nice-like. It might interrupt your orderly flow for a portion of the day, but as long as you’re making an effort to be nice, you can keep them from rearranging your living space. Nothing is worse than to see your home lifted up by one end, and you hear the tinkle of all those glasses in the sink moving in a direction they were not designed to move in. It’s just the odd planets, and they are just making sure that you feel something from this. It’s not you, and they guy in the truck does have the wrong address. Careful with dyslexic movers.
Aquarius [1. 19 – 2. 18]: Ever consider how either a “Yes,” or a “no” can be a basic binary operations? I’m sure the computer and/or linguistic experts will correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it’s called an “operand” in the singular form. As much as I would like to give you single, simple, binary answer to the week, there is not such thing right now. It’s confusing. It’s that simple. Mercury is doing it’s backward thing in your sign, and the simplest of answers — aren’t. “Aren’t what?” There are no simple, easy solutions right now. A definite “maybe” is the best you can do. Or the best I can do for you. Given that Mercury is destined to shake things up, one way or another, the best solution to this week’s questions is to suggest that you’ll get to back them later. It’s a little bit of cop out, but you know, it might be easier to assess these problems from a distant location. I’m thinking the middle of the lake is a good place to think about solutions. Maybe alone. Might help prevent any further complications due to a little planet’s big impact.
Pisces [2. 19 – 3. 20]: I do not pick on Pisces. You guys do a good enough job of that with no help from me whatsoever. I don’t have a “thing” for Pisces, either. That’s not acceptable, to either you or me. But there’s a suggestion, a hint, a little look at the sky, and we’ll both agree that things are not quite the way they are supposed to be. In perfect Pisces world, no one would ever get their tail feathers all discombobulated at a time like this. Sorry to bring the bad news, but yes, it’s that little planet, and yes, it’s stirring up a pile up small troubles. Now, if you look at this week the right way, you can sort through some of this mess, and start to make some sense out of it. Back to the idea that Mercury rules communications, though, I’d like to suggest that you have a way of knowing what’s worth worrying about, and what’s just waste of good worrying energy. While you understand this, I’m not sure that you’re going to be able to tell the rest of us not to be worried.
(c) Kramer Wetzel, 2000, 2001
