For the week of: 6/11-17/2001
“Why this is very midsummer madness….”
in Shakespeare’s 12th Night [III.iv.58]
Three little words come to mind. Yes, I know Mercury is going backwards, and yes, I’m tired of hearing from you Gemini’s with the loud (and apparently justifiable) complaints, but really folks, the three words are: “Get over it.” Sagittarius gets another, special lyrical quiz. Last week, of course, referred to the epic novel, “Double Whammy” by Florida Funny Man, Carl Hiassen. [The book is recommended, especially now.] But here’s the best sentiment from the answers received:
> If you excuse me, I’m goin’ to gather
> up some road kill for breakfast.
Aries: As long as we are dealing with some retrograde players, I was thinking about a retrograde TV series, and I figure it had the best symbolism for this week, and especially for Aries. Yes, it’s Gilligan’s Island time again. The dynamics of the program were such that Gilligan would always blow the escape attempt, a perfect foil for the Skipper. Or even better yet, it’s like the time I had an officer on either side of my truck, doing the “good cop — bad cop” routine. Given that Mercury is doing his level best to foul up lines of communication right now, and given that the planet voted to be best associated with Aries is retrograde in a compatible fire sign (Sagittarius) then the message is simple: are you going to be Gilligan right now? Some big fat character bonking you over the head for a perceived mistake of yours? Or are you going to be the Skipper? Hitting someone for a comically stupid move? You get to make the call, but I’d suggest you lean towards the Gilligan character right now — his actions may be wrong, but at least he’s laughable, and a little humor would help.
Taurus: There’s a real simple metaphor which comes to mind, an idea I’d like to sail across the bow of the good ship Taurus: that cable TV channel which begs for your credit card number. Realizing that there are a few less than wonderful little planets moving in apparent backwards motion, realizing that everyone is begging for your attentions, just not in a good way, understanding that your judgment might not be the best right now, and understanding what is going on within your own, personal world, and taking all this in consideration: don’t reach for your plastic. Think about shopping, But think about shopping the way some of my friends think about fishing: it’s an act where we all try to succeed, but the success is not always equal to the effort. If fishing was always about catching fish, it would be called “catching” instead of “fishing.” Likewise, consider shopping right now, but also think about “lay away” rather than “purchase.” Indulge your senses and look at somethings. Maybe make a list. Just don’t actually buy anything, not quite yet.
Gemini: I was shopping for a new summer straw [cowboy] hat just last weekend. I was in the largely Hispanic market place, a little northwest of downtown Ft. Worth. I checked with one vendor, nice hat, wide brim, nice blocking, good quality straw, “Hecho en Mexico” label. Price? $15. I shopped around a little more, and came back because the same, or similar anyway, hat was a little more costly at other vendors’ stands. But when I came back, the same hat was now $30. The only discernible change I could detect in that particular vendor’s attitude was the amount of beer he had consumed during the morning hours. The price went up according to some arcane calculation that had to do with accumulated beer cans. It’s one heck of a Mercury retrograde, and if you follow my lead, you’ll realize that no matter where you are, it’s just not the right place. Now you can do one of two things, either pay the higher price, or just go bare-headed in the summer sun. Either way is “midsummer madness” so it doesn’t much matter. You’re not going to be in the right place at the right time. Given the current climatic conditions, you might just skip buying the hat altogether, though, and thank me for saving you some money. But a decent straw hat with a wide brim is real asset in the summer months, leastways, around here it is.
Cancer: The symbol for the zodiac sign of Cancer is the constellation that ancients believed was a crab. Not a crab nebula, just a crab. You know, like you see at the beach. Hard shell, six legs or so, couple of big pincers, which look a lot more menacing than they really are, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Makes for a tasty treat, served up correctly. And while you might be a tasty morsel yourself, served up correctly, maybe with a little lemon butter sauce, I would suggest that this is not the time to be serving yourself up. In fact, this is a great time to imitate the actions of your namesake and archetype. Retreat within your shell. I know, you hear it all the time, but there are some old problems back, and you can do one of two things, either get in there and fight it out with the problems, and probably make a bad situation worse, or you can just avoid the whole mess. Just pull yourself within that safe and sound Cancer shell, pull the blinds closed, put on some soft music, and ignore the whole mess. It’ll still be there when you decide to come out.
Leo: Hey. Hey, you! Yes, Leo, I’m talking to you. Pay attention here: you’re not paying attention, are you? Sounds like I’m just like everyone else, always picking on you? I’m not. Look, you’re just not paying attention, and that’s the whole problem, you need to be paying attention. At the very least, look attentive. I have this facial expression which I developed over 17 years of higher education (my undergraduate career), it’s a special look, pen poised over a notebook, a look of rapt attention on my face, textbook open to the page in question. Now, my mind might be elsewhere, but I always looked like I knew what was going on. Looked like I had read the assignment, why yes, just the night before. Looked like I was ready for class. So even if my mind was out on the lawn, frolicking with various scantily clad students with long legs, at least I looked like I was paying attention. Follow my lead, right now, look like you’re listening. Look like you care. And instead of saying, “I wasn’t listening, could you repeat that?” ask “Could you clarify what you just said?” Works like a champ.
Virgo: There’s this look you get on your face, and while each and every special Virgo might not actually have this specific look mastered, there is certainly some facial feature akin to this appearance which crosses your lovely countenance from time to time: a wry grin with one eyebrow cocked up. It’s as if you’re saying, “What? Really? No way. Are you sure?” [Or, better yet, a slightly more cynical, “Yeah, right.”] It’s not as if you doubt my veracity, or the truth of the statement, which evoked this look, but you know, there is that problem. Try this line instead: “Why this is very midsummer madness” in Shakespeare’s 12th Night [III.iv.58]. You can use this look and expression, or any combination of all of them, and it helps with this week’s disturbing influences. I wouldn’t want to suggest that ya’ll are going to be a little more leery than before, but ya’ll are a little more cautious right now, a little more suspect. As well you should be. At the risk of sounding too terribly anarchist, “Trust no one.”
Libra: I was sitting on the front row of student desks in a classroom — I’ve always preferred to sit at the front of the class because I find the sights much less distracting, and I’m less inclined to doze while I’m up near the teacher. So I was sitting there, and the teacher walks in, takes one look at me, shakes his head in disgust, and murmurs, “Not you again.” It’s not a real auspicious start, now is it? But it has merit for your week because you’re going to want to sit in a position where you can’t sleep, daydream, or doze. You’re going to want to stack the odds in such way as to make it better for yourself. Even though all the major players this week are retrograde, and even though this is a cause of all sorts of minor irritation, that’s no reason not to place yourself in position that is ultimately beneficial. Remember the long range effects. It’s like sitting up there at the front of the classroom, you’re there so you don’t get distracted, and you’re there so that darn teacher notices you. Now pay attention to the lesson.
Scorpio: Hot enough for you? Even if you don’t reside in a place which is full of infernal heat all summer long, like Texas right about now, you’re still in an astrological position which feels a little too warm — much like a summer afternoon in Texas. There’s this one Scorpio fisherman I know, and he insists on fishing in the middle of the afternoon. See: it’s like this: he can’t get away from work until the afternoon, so he fishes when he can. In the middle of the afternoon, with hardly a cloud in the sky, it’s just plain hot. And that’s what this time is like for Scorpio. There’s a torpid heat which settles on everything, even the trees appear listless as there’s not even a gentle zephyr to help dissipate this humid version of torture. But wait, before you get too upset, that one fisherman, that lone Scorpio, he occasionally — not very often — but every once in a long while, he gets a big fish. Middle of the afternoon. The joke is tired, but it really applies, it’s a lot like catching a fish which is already half cooked. Bad for trying sushi, but great for dinner tonight. Out of this sodden, still, lifeless heat of a week, there’s one little lucky break. Probably happens in the hottest part of the afternoon, too.
Sagittarius: Satire can always backfire because someone always misunderstands the intent of the message and takes the note a little too literal. The specific note I’m thinking about is this one: “Anger is the greatest fuel.” It’s a lyrical refrain from a little-known band which is definitely politically not correct. In fact, I’m sure there’s something by this particular band which will offend everyone. Of course, a little anarchy is good thing, and it seems to reign supreme right now, especially in the Sagittarius life. Want a free {abbreviated, e-mail offer only} planet profile? Find the source of that lyric. We’ll need the disks’ names, the author, and the band’s name. [e-mail us] Of course, please remember that this is a form of satire and social commentary, and taking that one band serious is liable to cause severe problems. But that’s the problem right now, just about everything offends you. Careful with your own satire these days — like me, you’re bound to be misunderstood.
Capricorn: I have this fantasy, and involves this one Capricorn. Instead of the usual, light and lacy attire, instead of flowing summer dress which is loose and airy, light and possibly embroidered with flowers, this is a dark fantasy. Stiletto spike heels. Black fishnet stocking, a tight bodice – corset thing. Maybe a pair of handcuffs dangling limply in one hand. Imagine that this is you. “Come hither, knave,” sneers from blood red lips. Pretty far cry from light and love, huh? Usually, this sort of fantasy would make my blood run cold with fear. I would run away. Hey, it’s not your usual Capricorn get up and set up. But it highlights an important idea: dark stuff. Between Mars, Mercury and while we’re at it, just about everything else in the sky, it’s time to think about this sort of bizarre, twisted, and according to some, sick, kind of fantasy in your little brain. Roll that sort of image around, tailor it to suit your own tastes and desires. You can be the master right now, but you’re going to want to look to the dark side of your own psyche for a little inspiration.
Aquarius: I went to the grocery store the other day. The AC in my truck has no coolant, so I don’t even try other than good, old fashioned “two sixty AC” — which is two windows down and sixty miles an hour on the streets. Since traffic is always a problem, not to mention various stop lights, with this form of AC, by the time I got to the store, I was covered with a thin film of sweat. Now, I picked up a loaf of bread and some butter, and headed to the express (ten items or less, cash only) line. With me so far? I’m hot, sticky, smelly, and the lady with the cart in front of me has 11 items and wants to pay by check. Oh, but it gets worse: I wasn’t wearing a shirt, in a remarkable nod towards the summer temperature. After waiting in line for an inordinately long time, I look at the checker. She’s gorgeous. I try and suck in my gut, puff out my chest. I look like pretty bad. Not a good time to make a decent impression, if there wasn’t a cell phone sticking out of my pocket, I might have been a homeless guy. I may have scintillating wit, a good command of Shakespeare’s work, but sometimes, no matter what you do, you just don’t look good when you want to. And that’s the way the week goes, get used to it.
Pisces: Yuck. I was going to either use stronger language and blow my “approved for all audiences” rating, or use some lyrics from a typical Country and Western song, about hurting, lonely, “she left me and took the dog — and I miss that old dog” miserable sort of refrain. Instead, I’ll just guide you as best I can. You’re in an awkward position, though, and there’s not a lot I can do about it. Mr. Mars (sometimes the angry red planet) and Mr. Mercury (sometimes backwards and even more infuriating) are facing off in a tough position for gentle Pisces. Dear Pisces is getting hammered by a lot of stuff. Ain’t no easy answers. Take a note from one of my personal journals, and work on your secret document, which is the answer to all these questions. Just don’t plan on publishing this document right away. It’s like making a list of all the people you want to get even with — just don’t take any action right now. Patience may be in short supply, but that doesn’t mean that good things won’t come to those who wait. Try and sit out this dance. My Pisces dance partner was glad I sat out that last tune, too.
(c) Kramer Wetzel, 2000, 2001
