Fishing Guide to the Stars for the week 3.24.2011

“You are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.”
Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 2 [II.iv.56]

It’s Shakespeare’s Hostess suggesting Doll keep her mouth shut while she’s arguing with Falstaff. I’d add that arguing with Falstaff is an exercise in futility as he was always quick with the wit. Aries: Not yet, not yet, not yet. Not yet. I’ll mention it one more time, for a certain Aries who isn’t getting a clue: not yet. Happy birthday to my fine Aries friends having birthdays this week, the Sun and Uranus, Jupiter and a Retrograde Mercury are all ploughing through your sign. That’s why I mean, “No, not yet.” We’re close. We’re so very close. We’re not there yet. Let’s look at this way, it’s your birthday, right now, birthday week, birthday month, anyway, soon or for one, just passed, but still, that expectant glee that comes with birthdays, that should be present. Stop. Enjoy the fun stuff. Realize a few people aren’t quite geared up in time. I’m just saying, close but not yet. The trigger is Mars, and once Mars gets ensconced in your sign, then we can start to move ahead. But until then? Not yet. Happy birthday! Taurus: Guacamole secret ingredient: Garlic. In an effort to “eat healthy,” I’ve gradually shifted some of my dietary issues. Doubt I’ll give up chips and hot sauce, but I can shift to the no-salt, organic blue-corn chips. Then, instead of slathering that with hot sauce, there’s guacamole. Avocado is one of the good fruits, full of good fats, minerals and vitamins. I read it on the inter-web, must be true. One grocery store makes this really good stuff, and I was trying to figure out why it was so tasty. Zesty, with a hint of heat, but not too much, low sodium, and so on. I found the secret: big garlic bulbs.

Sometimes intact, like, garlic strong enough to scare off carrion eaters. Renders me un-kiss-able in a single bite. Yet, it’s so good. The garlic is what helps it. There’s a flavor, a zing, an amount of punch that makes the food desirable. One local chain in Austin, a Tex-Mex chain, a long-time favorite, the same secret. Tons of garlic in the hot sauce. Not just a lot, enough that it coats my mouth. I smell like garlic eater for 24-48 hours afterwards. It’s that secret ingredient. Same thing I use in my chili, but I peel that stuff by hand. I don’t know about the grocery store guacamole or that chain’s hot sauce. I looked at your chart — and I thought about that special, secret ingredient. Not exactly good for making close friends, but good for impressing culinary friends. Zest, piquant zing, a little punch and enough flavor to be truly good. Problem is the lingering effects? Every been crowded into an elevator with someone breathing this on you? My suggestion is enjoy the meal, the spice, the secret ingredient, alone. Or distant company.

Gemini: I’ve been at this a very long time, and yet, on certain occasions, my bedside manner leaves much to be desired. I looked at one chart, and all I could say, sort of escaped before I had a chance to clamp my mouth shut, “Eew.” It’s not really that bad, although, I’ve heard from one Gemini client who thinks that the Devil is loose in her backyard because Mercury is so retrograde and she claims — this one Gemini — she can’t get anything done. These are exciting times, and I’ve already written a book about how to deal with Mercury Retrograde. It’s less about getting stuff done and, this time especially, it’s about getting ideas out and on the table. Sketches, rough draft, a framework around which you can pin some meat — at a later date. Just the bones. Maybe not even bones, just a framework, a skeletal sketch. There. Took two paragraphs to find the right word, the correct combination. Skeletal Sketch. What this is about. Give me a skeletal sketch of that new (product, idea, problem, solution).

Cancer: I have hairdresser client, calls me whenever business is slow. The nature of her work, it’s cyclical, and I tend to see it as lunar-phase reinforced. The phase of the moon makes people more, or less happy, and the happiness quotient effects whether people are going to get their hair done. All of this is pure conjecture on my part; however, it is backed up by year of empirical experience. She calls when she’s slow. That’s the lot of the astrologer, too, you guys never call when life is good. I’ve yet to hear, “I just won the lottery like you predicted, here’s your cut!” I’m anticipating that all of the little Cancer folks are going to be calling this week, not because there’s anything good happening, no, I’ll be blamed for a myriad of ills, like a personal economic downturn, a lack of business, a skin condition, anything and everything. Backing up, though, let’s look at this: tons of planets in Aries, makes life in Cancer uncomfortable. Bad? Hardly. Just can’t reach that spot on your back where it itches. What happens to the client, after she calls me, her phone starts to ring with business calls. Appointment book fills up. Before you call me to book a reading, Cancer friend, think about it. Shoot me an email see if I’m available, then let’s see if that action doesn’t trigger some kind of action in your world. Like my hairdresser client.

Leo: Fantasy and reality. What’s real and what’s the product of your fantasies? What’s verifiable and what’s a great idea spun out of the airy and eery firmament of the Leo imagination? Again, we’re back to the question, what’s real and what’s a dream? There is one school of thought that would suggest, “If you can dream it, you can be it.” There’s another branch of philosophy that suggests it’s right here, right now, and that’s all we’ve got. No dreams, no illusions. I’m sort of stuck in the middle as I can see both sides of this problem. Now, for Leo, the problem is trying to find that middle ground, someplace between your head in the clouds and harsh reality, I’d suggest there’s a middle amount of ground, or rather a middle space, wherein you can occupy both some dreams and some reality. There’s room for both in Leo, at this moment. Strike out for the middle ground. A little of both, some dreams, some fantasies, some “too good to be true,” and then, some “real world.” All there. Now. This week. Next couple of days.

Virgo: There are variety of ways to bring pleasure in life. I was thinking about this, working with the idea, and what I came up with, for Virgo? Bag of burgers. There was a local chain in Austin that offered just a such a special, I think it was five burgers for about five bucks. Not exactly the biggest, probably some sawdust or soy or something in with the meat-like patties, I’m not sure. But that idea, instead of something big and fancy, all ornate and stuff? A simple gesture, a simple pleasure, an easy way to deal with this situation. I did just this. I showed up a “bag of burgers,” they weren’t the fancy upscale burgers, just a basic burger, each with lettuce tomato and pickles. Orders of small fries. I skipped the drinks because I was hoping the burgers would be enough, maybe someone else (Virgo) would provide the drinks. In the face of some ongoing problems, a simple solution is the best. Something like bag of burgers.

Libra: Some facts I can’t validate, not that it matters, so this one’s original source is suspect. A marketing guru, I enjoyed his work, what he told me, “A message has to be seen at least 12 times before a customer will act.” Might’ve been, “See the message 12 times before they buy,” but I don’t recall and I can’t find my notes. The problem is advertising, he was a marketing guru, advertising has to be seen at least a dozen times before the customer will get the message. Even, then, I’m not sure they get the message. As a Libra, as my favorite Cardinal Air Sign, the symbol of scales and balance? The message has to be seen at least a dozen times before the customer will take action. The Libra Sun sign (or just Libra planets) are under some astrological pressure, even now. Of that, the point to recall is the marketing message. It’s going to take at least, very minimum, 12 tries to get the point across. Even dozen. Could take two dozen, as this is just a rough estimate. Marketing isn’t an exact science. That number, it was plucked out of the thin air, I’m sure someone, someplace did a study, that proved it, or the conclusion was 12, or whatever. It’s about effort and success. I’m just seeing this as 12 — or more — attempts to get the message across. Trying packaging as a billboard slogan, see if that helps.

Scorpio: One of the fishing guides I’ve got, a printed fishing guide, it suggests that the best bait for Red Drum (Redfish) is soft plastics and gold spoons. The guide also suggests the best time is early morning. I’ve found that fresh shrimp, or fresh-dead shrimp, that works equally well, maybe better, it’s the scent trail. Then, I’ve also discovered that the early morning fishing, while pleasant in the heat of the summer, the big reds still bite into the middle of the afternoon. All a matter of being in the right place at the right time, with the right bait. Sometimes? Nothing beats live bait. I trust some of the printed source like that one guide, but I tend to read it as a guide, not as gospel. There’s a guiding principal in Scorpio, even now. The rules, are they really rules? Or just guidelines. First part of next week, the reds should be running. For Scorpio. Hint: this isn’t just fish, it could be whatever you’re seeking. Conventional wisdom says one thing. The internal Scorpio fishing guide suggests something else. Might want to listen to your own voice.

Sagittarius: I was using some data I stored on a thumb drive, a lipstick drive, so to speak. I went to eject the drive. I did the keyboard command thing (Mac guy, you know how we are), and the drive disappeared, then reappeared. I used the mouse to eject the drive since I know, every drive has to be properly ejected before removing it, so as to not harm the data stored therein. The drive disappeared and reappeared. I tried three different ways to eject the drive. Nothing worked, it was reported as “Still in use,” or “not properly ejected,” which was what I was attempting in the first place. I hit the computers “rewind” button (restart), and again, nothing happened. I finally got impatient enough to yank the drive out of the USB slot. Anyone familiar with computers on any level understand this pointless frustration. Just physically removing the drive, unplugging, or, in my example, just giving it a strong tug at the right — or wrong — time? Just pulling that sucker out solved the problem. No data was damaged. There wasn’t any other problem, it was just a weird computer thing that I am at a loss to explain. To be safe, I hit the “restart” button again, just to clear the machine’s memory. If only life was like this. Two things to take way from experience: there will be a level of frustration this week. How you deal with it? Sometimes a simple, direct action resolves the problems with the least of frustration.

Capricorn: When I teach a class about astrology, usually just start with basic sun-sign stuff, one of the archetypes I introduce for Capricorn is a certain donkey drawn from A.A. Milne’s canon of children’s stories. With a certain grouping of people, I’ve found that imagery seems to convey a message. “Oh, no good will come of this….” A familiar Capricorn lament? Surely not. That’s a sentiment that gets echoed this next few days. “It’s not going to get worse, is it?” As the Sun moves in Aries, along with Uranus, Jupiter and Mercury? This creates tension. Worse? Doubtful. However, there will be that pervasive feeling of doom, at one point, in the next few days. I can’t — singlehandedly — combat that universal feeling of doom and dread in Capricorn-land. I can warn you about it. I’ll also offer a simple way out — action. Pointed, direct action. You might feel like you’re moving in the wrong direction, however some movement, direction unknown, is still good.

Aquarius: In Austin, Texas — westbound on Oltorf Avenue, just west of the freeway (Interstate 35), there is a sign. Two signs. Right there at the high school, matter of fact, typical South Austin funk: street stop light and two signs, “No Left Turn,” and “No right Turn.” The exit to the school’s driveway is one way: exit. The other street is a one-way street, as well. The sign makes sense, sort of. Only in Austin do the natives need to be told to go straight. Only in Austin does this make absolute sense. Only in Austin. Only in Aquarius, is a sign like this essential. I’d like to reiterate that point. Like West-bound Oltorf in South Austin? I’m giving some sage advice to Aquarius: go straight. Dead ahead. Veer not from thy destined course. I understand the temptation. I, too, I have turned down that one-way street. I too have interpreted those signs as saying, “Yes, just not for me.” I understand the allure of going where we ought not go. Not this week. Stay straight. What this week is all about: the planets suggest you keep going straight. Forward. Whatever.

Pisces: I’m sure there’s a science to this, a kind of study done that proves how and why this happens. I recall standing on the platform for a tube stop. In London. I watched as the next train rolled into the station. The first one, two cars were almost empty. Only a handful of passengers in the tube cars. As the train coasted to a stop, “Mind the gap,” I noticed that the rest of the passenger cars were full. People standing, all seats taken, all elbows and bung holes, packed. However, not a 100 meters further down, on the very same train, lots of empty spaces. Seats were available. Along with an admonition to mind the damn gap, the station announcer guy, I wonder, is that thing automated? Anyway, it would help if he — she in some places — would suggest that there’s seating available if the crowd would just advance further along the station’s platform. It’s about being aware that there’s a much more palatable option available, just move on down the line a bit. Look. And please, mind the gap. Whatever.

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

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