“You shall perceive how you
Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends.”
Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens [II.ii.178-9]
Timon of Athens, several distinctions. Least performed play of the canon. Probably not scripted entirely by Shakespeare. And yet?
Cancer: Useless trivia? Yeah, I’m good for that. Who was it, the cartoon character who sang about being strong to the finish (because he eats his spinach)? That was originally a comic strip. Appeared first in 1931. Spinach consumption, as tracked by growers at the time? Up one-third after the strip appeared.
While I’m unsure of the academic sources, and whether or not this is factual, taught in “media” classes, it’s notable since it’s clear evidence that purported entertainment was used to sell — promote — a product. Spinach. Now, spinach is good for us, so we’re assured, and it’s really tasty with a bacon dressing. I just didn’t know that a comic strip, later a cartoon, had a profound influence on the market. Or the marketability of produce.
Clear example of entertainment swaying a retail decision. That’s my warning, too. If my advertising here is pretty clear: I want to sell you an astrology consultation. It’s how I earn income. The point, though, for the weekly scope? What is motivating you? Conscious? Or is some cartoon character operating on some unseen level in the Cancer’s psyche?
Leo: I was looking at everything happening around you and I was just wondering. What’s a good Leo, like yourself, to do?
All this material and none if it impacts you directly. To be sure, Mercury is slipping through your sign, but that just means your a little more curious than usual.
I’d like to think, over the years, you’ve learned a little bit of caution, too. This is where that caution pays off by the bucketful.
- Don’t jump.
Don’t get startled.
Don’t get rattled.
Peacefully accept what gets tossed around. I’m just saying, this doesn’t impact you directly. Calm goes a lot further towards finding a quick and mutually agreeable solution. All about reactions. See: this doesn’t affect your sign. Nothing lands on Leo. But there’s so much other stuff going on? Doesn’t much matter. You only get involved if you choose. Step away from the hot stuff. Don’t touch: wet paint. Plate is hot, please be careful. Don’t use your bare hands.
Virgo: Got a friend, she recommended a specialty product. “Pancakes in a spray can.” That was followed with, “No, you really got to try it. Just spray them out into a hot griddle, instant pancakes.” Which made me wonder, how many chemicals? “None! All natural!” Even more suspicious
I thought about it for a while, makes a few pancakes, but then, how long before I’d have to start experimenting. It’s a guy thing, you know, squirting the pancakes batter straight into an open mouth? Like mine? Skip the cooking, just pancake batter, straight in?
How about cookie dough? Raw cookie dough is good. Favorite ingredient in ice cream, some days. So if the raw cookie dough is good then maybe the raw pancake batter? In all its yeasty goodness? Sure. Bypass the cooking part of the process, just make it all easier. Might be a good fishing addition, instant pancakes, right into the mouth instead of having to stop for some road food.
It’s an idea.
I’ll admit, further examination makes this seem like a bad idea, but I did try. Mars, approaching Saturn, Saturn about to exit and line up against Uranus? Maybe one of the ideas is like mine, maybe it’s a good idea. Then again, think a second time? Maybe not. Unless, we could rig some syrup in a spray can, too.
Libra: There’s a kind of fireworks that can graphically capture the essence of what is happening. As a Libra, you get to make a choice. As a Libra, you can opt for one side of this or the other side, it’s your choice. Your decision. Choose wisely. I hope you will.
The firecracker? It’s actually a kind of rocket. Pyrotechnical device. Whatever you like to call it. It goes up into the night’s sky with a shower of sparks. Then, it bursts into a giant blossom of sparks, showering and cascading downward, like plumes. Then, each petal, looks sort of like a flower, each petal then explodes again. Just when you thought it was all done, the rocket launches individual bursts, high in the evening sky. Very nice effect.
The crowd has already “ooed,” then “awed,” and then there’s a final burst of color, a final bit of unexpected explosions, one last time. It’s that final burst with this type of skyrocket or firecracker, or pyrotechnic, that’s what is fun, but it’s also that, “just when your Libra self thought it was safe,” again. Thing. One last “boom.” One last kicker.
There is the other possibility. If you’re not warned about this? You might feel like you’ve been tied to the side of the 4th of July rocket, and you’re hurtling through space with no control. I’m just warning you about that last explosion.
Scorpio: There’s a bakery place, not far from home. They make cupcakes. Vegan, no chemicals, karmic and correct. Good stuff. Sell out, no more cupcakes.
It’s place where they make small batches of cupcakes rather than turning out a ton of food. When a certain type of cupcake sells out for the day? All gone. No more. That’s it. I popped in for a dessert one evening. There were a few vanilla with chocolate (vegan) icing. An elvis cupcake, too, just a few of them left, peanut butter and banana cupcakes. That was it. Late in the evening, not much left. “More tomorrow,” the cheery and tired counter help explained. He’s Virgo. Not Scorpio.
However, in his cheery yet tired attitude? There’s a secret. There’s some hope. There’s a chance. The idea that you operate like that fabulous cupcake place (South First Street in Austin)? When you’re out of a Scorpio (something), then you’re out until the next day when we all make another batch. This is an easier way of dealing with the supply and demand issue. Instead of making too many? Cut production down to just what you know you can handle. Both input and output. The customers, the late stragglers, like me? I’m not a Scorpio. But the late stragglers? They will either have to get there earlier or go without, like me, or just have to enjoy what’s leftover. Too much? Or too little? I’d suggest “too little.”
Sagittarius: I had a newspaper habit; I traced it back to years of swimming in Barton Creek in Austin. Can’t take electronic things into the creek, and because of that, I developed the “newspaper” habit. I got used to reading a real newspaper, on certain afternoons, a hot afternoon, in the shade of the tree or the cool air conditioned comfort of a certain dining establishment.
To make the paper more interesting, I shied away from local news and I would pick up either a Dallas or Houston newspaper. Used to be available. To make the paper even more interesting? Especially, at the time, the Houston paper? Believe everything that was printed. Every story — treat it as factual. The headlines alone could be scary enough. Treat the newspaper as absolute gospel truth. That makes for a very entertaining, and slightly disturbing, reading.
I would tend to make notes and chuckle at the stories. I’ve never been able, especially not now, to tell the difference between sensationalist words and tempered, seasoned journalism that was truly objective.
Never tried to be objective myself. But I am Sagittarius, and we aren’t noted for being objective. Instead of trying to be objective this next couple of days? This weekend? Next week? Try my advice and read the newspaper — or that website — and treat everything you read as absolute fact. “No, really, I read it on a web page. It must be true.”
Capricorn: The reluctant revolutionary, that’s Capricorn. Not a job you want, not a position that you want to fulfill, and it’s not even in your particular area of expertise. Not that such a limitation would bother me, but I’m not a Capricorn. You are.
You’re needed as a revolutionary hero. The leader of the rebels. Maybe even leader of the pack. Stop me from getting silly about this. I see this less as a full-on revolutionary war, and more like a small skirmish wherein you’re elected the head of the opposition. Historically, this isn’t safe placement for your Capricorn self.
I see you as the one with the ideas, the one who can make something happen, and most of all, the one who really doesn’t want to be here. There. Wherever it is. You’re really not cut out for being the leader of the rebel faction; however, destiny has tapped you. Or maybe it was Destiny’s friend, Fate. Or the girl called Crystal. Names like that, takes us in a whole new direction. No, this is about Capricorn and the position you’re taking, the mantle you’re assuming for the next few days? Reluctant Revolutionary.
Aquarius: It’s the middle of a long, hot summer. Not really the middle, but it sure feels that way from my perspective. Stretches on and on. I’d like to call your Aquarius attention away from play. Away from the pass times you pursue for intellectual amusement and whatever passes for “fun” in the Aquarius world. Put that aside for a moment. Holiday is over. If you’re like so many others, you’re stuck at work while everyone else seems to be on vacation.
Since I’m solo, I have to stretch my imagination on this one, I just get that image of a mostly vacant cube farm, an office filled with empty desks. Like Dell after the last round of layoffs. Mostly vacant office space. Empty desks. And then, there’s the lone Aquarius.
Why be like anyone else? Why take a break when everyone else is gone? The phase of the moon hits a high-point just as the weekend is over, and that means, here’s the idea: go to work.
I’m imagining you’re just slashing through piles and and piles of files that needed a little clear-cutting. Almost like your fever-driven workhorse. Like there’s a maniac inside your head, pushing you onward, harder, further than anyone else. If you will attend to this little drummer boy in your head? You’ll get so much more work done, and you can amaze and astound the vacation crew, when they return.
Pisces: There was this TV show and the lawyer was pleading for his client, “Temporary Insanity.” TV, should be, “Temporary Inanity.” Anyway, in the context, I suppose, on TV, the plea deal could work. In the real world? Not a chance. Diminished capacity?
Only time I’ve ever seen what truly qualifies as diminished capacity was a Virgo I knew, she ironed her bed sheets. That’s insanity.
In the context of the TV plot? That guy (the character) deserved to die. “He needed killing.” Doubt that would work as a valid defense, hence the insanity plea. But that’s TV. This is the real world. Or as real as it will be.
Have to draw the line between the so-called “real world,” and what we see on TV. Not the same. The idea of the insanity plea, that works as a plot device, TV, movie, book. What kind of insanity have you seen? No, I don’t want to know, that image of the Virgo ironing bed sheets was enough. While you’re tempted to use that ploy yourself, the insanity plea? Doubt that it will work in real life.
Aries: “I don’t want to follow the rules of grammar!” Why not stamp your feet for emphasis, too? I don’t want to follow the rules, either, but I’ve found, well, I try to. Most days. Some days. Anyway.
This isn’t about my grammar, or my split infinitives and dangling prepositions, and participles that don’t participate. Not about me. I make an effort — in good faith — to make sure I follow most of the rules of grammar. I’m not s stickler for the rules, just follow them as guidelines. The little editor and I’ve gone back forth over several colloquial uses, and I’ve maintained my integrity — if not the grammatical integrity. Of the sentence.
There’s a rule, a simple rule, this isn’t complicated, and the simple rule, like subject verb agreement? Something like that. Yeah, and I don’t want to follow the rules of grammar myself, however, I’ve found that it helps elucidation.
Taurus: I was wrestling with how to express the energy I see here in the Taurus chart, and one of my neighbors popped over.
“Hey, you got a coke?” I offered him a Mexican coke, bottled in Mexico, made with real sugar, not high-fructose corn-syrup. Good stuff. “I hate these, they are always flat,” he complained. I used a church key to open the bottle then I put my thumb over the top. Gave it a shake. Pointed it at him. “Okay, okay, maybe not so flat,” he said.
I went over to the sink and let the pressure off slowly, only a little bit of the syrupy goodness escaped as bubbles and froth. I wiped down the bottle and handed to my neighbor.
I do find the Mexican coke to be better. Tastes better, more refreshing. It’s the original recipe. That pressure though, that I let off slowly and in a controlled fashion? Over the sink? No sugary mess? That’s you. This is either a really messy time, or, if you use care and caution? You can easily defuse the issue. Like I let the pressure off that bottle of coke. You know how messy that stuff is?
Gemini: When the warning label said, “Some clumping may occur,” did you pay attention? Wouldn’t be much of an issue except that the clumping occurred in some pepper I had. Cayenne Pepper. Capsicum Annuum. Red Pepper. A favorite kitchen ingredient in almost all my foods.
So when I was doctoring some chili, I didn’t bother with the “some clumping may occur,” and my little bowl of chili had a tablespoon or more of cayenne. Stir good, stick in the microwave, heat some more. Get out a fresh bottle of ice tea. Get out a fresh bottle of water, too. I was going to eat my way through my mistake since I like spicy food.
Breaking a sweat over chili is a good thing. Good food sometimes hurts so good. Not enough symmetry, though. I can work with my mistake. I fell for the oldest trick on hand, failure to read warning labels. I did this to myself. Then, when I had a chance to correct it? I just ate my way through the problem, the extra hot chili with a tablespoon — or more — of pepper. I did so knowingly.
I did so because it was my fault for not using a spoon, ignore at my own peril. Ignore the warning labels now? Are you as foolhardy as I am? I happen to have a pitcher of ice tea on had, to help assuage the pain. I didn’t ignore all the warning labels, just the “clumping may occur” reminder.
