Distilled predictions

I missed Friday night’s prediction panel, but I was going to distill and print out a prediction for the new year. Election prediction:

First off, let me just state for the record, I vote Democrat or Green. Or sometimes, Libertarian, sort of depends on the mood. Or the candidate and the issues. When I was in England last fall, I got quizzed about politics.

Standard reply, “I didn’t vote for his daddy and I didn’t vote for him.”

However, and despite how one-half of my immediate family will probably vote, I’m calling it for G.W. Bush.

Two extenuating sets of circumstances, Saturn and Jupiter. If – for the liberal, thinking vote, it’s not an “if” statement – but if the President really did some of the horrendous things he’s alleged to have done, then there might be some pretty fair mud-slinging. In fact, I’m expecting it. The problem with this kind of bottom-scraping is that it’s just that, nothing more than bottom scraping.

Ask just about any Cancer Sun Sign person these days, Saturn’s a “cosmic report card” who is just checking up and seeing “how we’re doing….”

Don’t like the prediction? Neither do I. Register vote. Become part of the process. Otherwise, well, even though I don’t really like it, I’m calling it this way as of now.

One story, just one, from dinner
Worked most of the afternoon at a steady rate, but after that last reading, after five, I just sort of gave up.

Aura Camera guy Mac (Capricorn) has a sister, and she wandered over as I was wrapping up, and stowing stuff in the bag to head out for dinner. I had two copies of the books on the table. She picked up one, flipped it over, and she looked at the back bio shot, along with the general heft of the book.

“So Pat caught the fish you’re holding up?”

Them Virgo girls are always so nice.

Over dinner, another nice riposte came from a Sagittarius. Mac made some comment, and I responded by asking about his collection of women’s clothing for farm animals.

So this delicate Sagittarius just noted that it was hard to find the right shoes.

Some days, I just don’t want to know.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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