Fishing Guide to the Stars
By Kramer Wetzel
(c) 2008-2009 Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net
For the week starting: 5.14.2009
Mercury Video.
Taurus: I can get by in border patois, but I took French in college, which is another question that really deserves no good answer. However, one of the little tricks that’s common around here? I watched as a person (not a Taurus) borrowed a Taurus phone and then set the language to Spanish. Wouldn’t be too much trouble for me, I would just say, "Hola" in stead of "Hello." I’m not sure what that would to do the spelling of my various contacts. Some? It wouldn’t matters as a number of my friends and immediate contacts have Spanish/Mexican surnames, proper names, last names and so on.
Yet, as that Taurus? The software switch that changed everything to Spanish — on the phone? That was a mean trick, largely undeserved in my opinion. That’s the sort of practical joke that you’re looking at, as this week goes careening by.
Before you react to harshly? Let’s say someone makes your phone speak Spanish? Just answer with a "Hola," instead of a more traditional greeting, maybe just jabber in Spanish with the trick’s perpetrator. More than one way to fight back, you know. As far as the target? I’m pretty sure the target of the prank is going to be a Taurus. This week.
"Hola?"
ASTROFISH.NET: Based on a true story.
Gemini: "Man, why do you use THIS post office? There’s always a line here, I mean, I can never mail anything here. What’s up with THAT?" Gemini buddy, not named Bubba, complaining as artful and eloquently as possible, and I’m sure the complaint was more because I was taking my valuable attention away from the Gemini problem and addressing my own concerns. To be sure, there’s usually a long line with only one or two postal workers manning the retail counters.
However,
the post office is right by the freeway, ease of ingress and egress, all that matters. Besides, after his complaint? We walked in, no line, and to hammer home the point? I walked straight up to a window and bought a roll of stamps.
Several salient facts to be observed? No need? No line. No pressing business? No line. No hurry? No line. I opened up the mail box, nothing was there. No problem, just a routine stop, not a big deal. Didn’t really need to buy stamps, have half a roll at home, but there was no line, and it shut up the Gemini. The problem being, as your Gemini self sets out to prove a point? You’ll find the proof isn’t there. The way this works, though, if you’re in a hurry? The bigger the hurry? The longer the line.
Cancer: I was dining, the other evening, with two female friends. Tex-Mex, not that it matters. And a Libra and Capricorn, not that it matters, and an Aries waitress, again, not that it matters. One had puffy tacos, the other had a Texas Special, which was a chicken taco, along with a guacamole taco — all platters tend to be accompanied by the requisite rice and beans.
The waitress served my friends, and since I had an identical order to one of them, the waitress assured me she had written it down, only the cook only fixed one, and mine was on the way. I acted out of place, as only I can, and the waitress looked at me with a steely gaze, "Look, it’s not 1935 anymore, women get served first."
In part, I was joking. In part, I didn’t care, and in part, it didn’t matter as I could have freely availed myself of the food on my friends’ plates. You’ll recognize that all the cardinal signs are represented in this example. Except for the most important, that would be Cancer. And that means you’re getting served last, forgotten, abandoned. Just how are you going to deal with it? I served up the lines and I was comically put in place, just like I was feeding the material from a comic script. Consider it as a chance to be the perfect foil. Might be a chance to be perfect something else — like me.
Leo: The song I heard, on the radio, the other afternoon? It was lonesome cowboy drinking song. "I don’t remember, do I drink because she (complains) or does she (complain) because I drink?" Might have the actual lyrics wrong, as I was navigating in traffic and flipping the truck’s radio button. But I liked what I heard, and I tried to make a note, nearly taking out a small sedan full very pale people.
Made me think, though, that song, about binary questions. Does the Leo drink because there’s a person complaining about the drinking, or does the complaining cause the drinking? Simple question, too. If you think about it. Pause and think. Just such a sad lament is a useful outlet for the Leo person about now. One causes the other, one paw washed the other paw. Or something akin to that, correct?
It’s about cause and effect, push this button here, see what happens. With a Leo, with The Leo, push the button, and there’s a very predictable response. With Mercury backwards and swapping positions with the Sun, it’s time to pause and think. That song, while I don’t think it’s the actual situation, it does pose a pretty good variation on thematic elements, and those self-same elements are worth Leo consideration. Drink because she complains? Or does she complain because The Leo drinks?
Virgo: I was waiting in line to board a crowded plane. Going some place for work, I’m sure. There was, I’m assuming, a couple. The guy was macho enough, except that he had, slung over his shoulders, a very pink backpack. Monogrammed letters, probably not his, but still. This is like a guy carrying a woman’s purse. Not a man-purse, or a ‘man bag,’ but a woman, to whom he is (apparently) otherwise engaged. Carrying the pack. As a couple I understand how this works, and as an observer, I feel a little sorry for the guy.
Maligned, picked upon, put out, and then forced to be a packhorse for his wife. But is it really all that bad? The guy looked well-fed and well-petted. Attractive woman with him, not carrying her backpack, and the idea was that this was a well-managed arrangement. The single guys, the macho guys, they will suggest — it’s — like — a rule or something — not to carry the woman’s purse. Or her pink backpack. However, I’m sure there’s no shame in the pink backpack because, odds are good, he was going to be sleeping with the owner of the pink backpack. Which is what this is all about.
There’s a gradual shift, a little give and little take. Is it really that bad? Cowboy up bubba, grab that pink pack.
Libra: There’s a line from a song, about, "The boys from Silver City," which, if my geography is right, is that town on the southwest side of New Mexico. Or West Texas. Then, another song, it’s about the, "The boys from Port O’Conner," and I know that one, down south side of Texas. Wouldn’t be a big deal, except the songs describe, in very short lines, real cowboys.
Not make believe but real, in the saddle, working cowboys. At one transfer point, I sat across the way from three real cowboys, and I kept thinking of the lyrics to those songs. Real cowboys. Jeans tucked into their boots, big buckles — trophies — won in real rodeo events. I took a stab at talking fishing with the guys, but like cowboys of legend, these were manly men of few words.
Except about a certain fishing trip and the "big one," which is tale just about every fishing person has. My favorite Libra fishing story is a picture, straw hat, light blue fishing pole, holding up a huge (relatively speaking) speckled trout (Gulf Coast Trout). Biggest fish that one weekend. Mars is opposite you. As such, a more taciturn approach, like those cowboys, that kind of quiet example might be the best way to lead towards your bragging rights. As a Libra.
Weekly Video (Monday, more or less) is here.
Scorpio: It was a girl in a short dress, leggings, heavy socks and over-sized cowboy boots. Might have had two sets of heavy wool socks on, in order to accommodate the boots. Looked like a nice outfit, in that "I’ve not altered or bought anything new" look. The colors, sort of tan or earth-tone yellow, maybe an ochre or something, mustard-like? The colors all fit and were tied up with a wide, brown belt with what looked like a fake-gold buckle. Who knows? Never got a chance to ask the woman. And she was a tall one, too.
Not that it matter, but I would’ve liked to ascertain her sign. I’m sure, due to the garish clothing, she wasn’t a Scorpio. Then again, with the current influences? I’d wonder about that. Maybe a Scorpio is the only sign with enough intestinal fortitude to carry off a weird combination of elements, and make it all work well. Doesn’t matter, that was winter wear, and it’s pretty firmly summer now. Haven’t seen much cold lately. Don’t plan to, either.
Consider the tasteful array of elements that don’t fit together. Consider combining, and then, like the over-sized cowboy boots? Consider a second pair of socks to make sure there’s a snug fit for this week. Can’t be too careful with Mercury backwards.
Sagittarius: When I did the last run-through of all the material for this week’s scope, I was sure that I had everything in place. No misplaced modifiers, no punctuation that was missing, no points left unanswered. All nice, neat, correct, plausible and in some cases, very wrong.
Mercury is in apparent retrograde motion — that much is correct. Backward in Taurus, which, strictly speaking, puts it backwards in our collective Sagittarius Sixth (solar) House. Which means, sure as can be, check the comments section, this week’s horoscopes will receive undue attention, undue censure and undeserved ire for something being incorrect. The problem isn’t the scopes themselves, or, for that matter, the problem isn’t me, but our Sagittarius selves would do well to understand that the bulk of the folks out there will find fault with us. For whatever reason, a typographical mistake, a misplaced decimal point, wrong punctuation, something relatively minor?
That’s going to incense a large group of people. I’ve warned you about this. I’ve warned me about this. We all understand that this isn’t really about whatever the perceived sleight is about, it’s about other folks and frustrations that get vented in Sagittarius working arena.
Capricorn: I was in a resort hotel, apparently, I wasn’t at the only convention in town. One of those long banks of elevators? There was a group of merry, intoxicated males making their way towards the yawning gape of an elevator door. A straggler hurried into the scene, "Hey, HEY, let me in, too!" They all crowded into the one elevator, the door shut, opened again, then shut.
Drunken laughter ascended unto the heavens. I have no idea, I didn’t get a good look at the badges they were all wearing. Oh, come on, I don’t really care what the organization was. The drunken antics can be amusing. Or annoying, and after a long day of work? I just skipped riding in that first elevator. Another one opened, and it was blessedly empty as I rode up to my room, in the quiet and solitude.
Mars in Aries? You get to make a choice. Are you going to take that first elevator? Or are you going to wait, like me? My waiting paid off in that I wasn’t annoyed, agitated, or, worst of all, I didn’t get into a fight with some drunken jerk who wouldn’t even remember me the next day. Or why he thought he had to kick my ass in front of all his friends on a crowded elevator. Why invite misery when it’s not necessary? A way to avoid this problem? Wait for the next elevator. Next bus. Next train, next something.
Aquarius: It’s time to think about making a decision. Not a little decision, but a big one. However, as you well know by now, Mercury is backwards and as such, now isn’t a good time to render a permanent decision. I always enjoy the folks who admonish dire threats about this kind of time frame, and while I agree in principle, the way individual astrology charts play out, that makes a big difference in this approach. Which gets back to my original point, there’s a big turning point, a crossroads, fast approaching in the Aquarius life and times, and now is the correct time to think about that decision.
What to do, where to go, how to approach this approaching point that’s calling for some change. Convoluted, at best. There are myriad of choices to make. This is like trying to figure out exactly which limb and branch a specific leaf fell from. I was using the tree as an example because it’s spring time, and the blossoms and all, and never mind. It’s about seeing — and understanding — how a decision down here at the base, in the trunk itself, how that — looks like a binary question — how that answer can stem into a plethora of pathways. What are you going to do? That’s why I was urging, especially since there are a couple of weeks left to go? Think about the possible permutations and consider the various avenues. Think before you jump aboard one of these.
Weekly Video (Monday, more or less) is here.
Pisces: When I fish in clear water, visual appeal is important. I have to use a bait that looks like something the fish wants to bite. When the water is all churned up, especially, like, coastal fishing, smell is a lot more important than looks. The dark, muddy water, full of silt and sand? Fish can’t see very much, but they do have an acute sense of "smell," or whatever the underwater equivalent is called, and that will guide them right to where I’ve got a piece of smelly bait and a hook.
The waters around Pisces — at this point — are muddy. Doesn’t mean you can’t get what you’re fishing for, but it does mean that a change is called for. A different technique. I’d suggest dead shrimp. What I usually start with, and from there? It’s up to you, how creative you want to get. Wait, the dead shrimp are what I use for fishing, perhaps you’re looking for something besides big fish? Might mean a new scent, a new flavor, a new way to package what you’ve already got.
Personally, I still think it’s the scent, the aroma, that works best. Since the waters around you are turbulent, stirred up, and a bit muddy? Try with something that will punch through the muck. Dead shrimp, that’s my idea, but I’m not sure, something new to add some fresh scent to help you.
Aries: A friend of mine, the neighbors flooded her place. Aries, you know how water can extinguish a fire, huh? Something I didn’t get, a Fang Sway fountain and water shut-off and so on. When I stopped by, at the appointed hour, the "water reclamation process" was well underway. There were a half-dozen big fans situated around her apartment. Big blowers, making a lot of noise. "Let’s get out of here," was — I think — what she said.
We left.
"Life in a wind tunnel, what are you supposed to do?" Personally, I prefer water-tight trailers as the only high-water problem would be floating away. The wind tunnel, the Aries with water-soaked carpets, and the effusive use of "I’m SO sorry," that just doesn’t always work. The Aries, though, infused with Mars energy this week? Maybe it’s like living in a wind tunnel, which is what her apartment felt like. While I didn’t accurately predict the neighbor causing a flood, I did suggest a little caution, and I did say it would be like life in a wind-tunnel. Which it was. Is. Mars, you know?
