Fishing Guide to the Stars for the week starting 12.15.2011

“We have done deeds of charity;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate.”
Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of King Richard the Third [II.i.52-3] Sagittarius Sagittarius: Happy birthday! Still cooking with the last of the Sagittarius birthdays, by no means the least of the Sagittarius, just the ones stuck at the end. As time marches forward in its incessant haste, as the holidays are upon us with all their might and wrath, we still have opportunities. Here’s the deal: this is a dry run for the next year. This is the time to prepare for what’s up ahead. The “end of th world is near” hue and cry? I’m kind of over that. Doesn’t stop it, and the suggestion is there’s always one, last thing you wanted to do. As this week and the big holidays are upon us, think about that one, last thing. If those “end of the world” alarmists were really right (they’re not), what is the single contribution that you would like to make, the single undone item you would like to do? As a Sagittarius, it could be travel, mountains to climb, whatever that single piece of unfinished business is? Think about doing it. Now. Capricorn: One editor, no longer looks at my stuff, that one editor suggested if I ever invoked the name of the retail super giant (Wal-Mart), I would lose my standing. My literary equivalency rating would plummet. I don’t shop there often, but when I do, it is for cheap stuff. There’s a certain point of pride I have in sending merchandise to certain family members with the Wal-Mart tag still attached. Again, that’s not really what this is about.

I have a Wal-Mart Honey Bear. It’s a small jar of purified, pasteurized, strained and sanitized honey. Bee byproduct. What garnered my attention, what made me think about Capricorn, was the name, “Wal-Mart Honey Bear.” From that title alone, my mind spun off in a number of different directions, none of them particularly healthy, or, for that matter, all that inviting. The most innocuous example would be a large Teddy Bear. Over-sized, Wal-Mart sized, and plush. Probably made by cheap labor in a foreign land. However, for food stuffs, like grocery items, the Wal-Mart supply chain is legend in efficiency and economy. So the honey is safe, but this brings up the question of questions. What’s right, what’s wrong, what’s wrong on so many levels, and what’s best for Capricorn? At this very moment, what’s best for Capricorn is to stay away from Honey Bear honey. This horoscope ends on the solstice. That begins a new day for you. Check back in a week. Aquarius: One of my friends is a psychic. Really, a lot of my friends, professional acquaintances, are psychics. Some better than others. One palm reader in Albuquerque, NM, he’s the stuff of legends. Along the way, I’ve encountered fakirs, fakes and flakes. More fakers than real fakirs, too. Some would say I’m a flake, but I never claimed not to be.

This week-long sprint to the high holy day of the solstice, it’s important that you, as an Aquarius, be in touch with your designated seer, visionary, personal psychic reader, or, at least make arrangements to get a reading from me. A good reader will touch on the spiritual nature of your Aquarius journey, a moment to pause and delve into the cosmic meaning in your life. Much is getting revved up. There’s a time to start, a time stop and time to pause before you rush into a situation that might, or might not, be ultimately fulfilling for your Aquarius soul. Guidance, one form or another. Wrap up the last of the Xmas crud and consider making an appointment with me, or some other psychic that you like. For those of a certain mindset, good week for church. Whatever it is that works for you. For the solstice? Divine guidance, one form or another.

Pisces: I have a great idea, my little Pisces friend, let’s not make this difficult. Here, pinky swear, you and me, Mr. Fishing Guide to the Stars and the special Pisces, let’s lock fingers and acknowledge that I’m a jerk, you’re not, and I’m sometimes wrong, to your detriment, and I’m going to make your life better, starting now. Deal? Let’s shake. Good. The new year starts, officially, now. End of this scope, we have much “NEW” kicking into gear. Imagine that this is like the “L” in my buddy’s monster truck. Low gear. Growling, churning, and, in his mind anyway, able to slowly ripple asphalt with that truck’s torque. This is the beginning to a new day. A new year. It’s not really the end of the world, I’ll give you a heads up on that one, but it is a start to new year for Pisces. Now. Select one destination, one goal, one item, one deed, one “thing,” person, place, object, something. Hold that in your Pisces Mind’s Eye. It will happen. Slowly, like my buddy’s monster truck, that thing doesn’t leap, it’s grinds away slowly, gradually building up power.

Aries: “You weren’t drinking at the time?” No, I wasn’t. “You’re sure?” I’m sure. I had a moment of dyslexia. Momentary case. Just swapped two words with similar sounds into the wrong slots. Sounded right to me, but, in the context of the situation? Quite the wrong answer. Not that it bothers me, only, I can’t use the excuse I was drunk. This isn’t about the consumption of adult beverages. This is about how to eloquently cover a small mistake. I just figure that, as an Aries, you’re going to jump a little too far, a little fast, and quite possibly, misplace a word or expression. “Drunk again?” No, just a little dyslexic. There are two ways to combat this, with the approach of the high holy days, one, drink. Two, slow down and don’t jump so fast. Mars in Virgo? That could be it. Or better yet, that Uranus in Aries plus Venus plus Jupiter. Planets abound. Don’t jump so fast.

Taurus: The instructions, it was in a “fang sway” head shop, I have no other moniker for a such place, and that’s where I got this set of directions. Xmas is a magical time, and I’m passing along some almost unrelated Buddhist lore as an answer to the Taurus question. ‘Facing the Buddha by the front door, burn three sticks of incense every morning before you eat, and your wish will come true.’

There are a few provisions with this ritual, and consider me, the source, I can’t say that I got it correct. Never stopped me. This is an action, burning the three sticks of incense, done before eating in the morning, while contemplating the successful outcome of a desire. I’d tend to think it was more along the lines of positive thinking rather than strict Buddhist doctrine, and I might have my religious orders confused. Won’t be the first time, as I tend to ascribe to bits and pieces of whatever I like at the moment. As a Taurus, there’s certain fundamentalist side to you. As a Taurus, there’s a certain side that wants nothing to do with Buddha. As a Taurus, there’s something you’ve been wishing for. Let’s start a process, now, before we get to the mighty Xmas, and see what we can do. Hint: the Buddha is forgiving, don’t have to follow those instructions exactly.

Gemini: Merry Xmas. Hope you’re having fun. We are, aren’t we? I thought so. I had sideways glance at some Shakespeare stuff that I was going to use for Gemini, but the metaphor was a little too deep. I had some fancy a material, then again, not really what was right. There’s a kind of impatience in Gemini, like, “Are we there yet?” A kind of feeling that “now” isn’t soon enough. Ask anyone else, and they will tell you that you (Gemini) have to wait until Xmas to open the packages. I’d like to think that this is more along the lines of just waiting until Capricorn officially starts, Dec. 21. Wait. Noon, Dec., 21. Wait. Pause. Stop. Quit fidgeting. Here’s an idea, go run around the block and come back, then we’ll talk.

Cancer: Tourist couple, clearly a tourist couple, and they asked for a restaurant suggestion. I looked them over, young, but not too young, some gray in the guy’s hair, and I started to define a little steakhouse, won’t name names, but the place is throwback to an era long-forgotten. In this one steakhouse, the waitresses all wear red miniskirts that are trimmed with three-inch white leatherette fringe. White cowboy hats and, of course, white cowboy boots. I’d guess that the place hasn’t changed since it opened in the 1960s. I looked at him and was about to make a comparison, and he pulled me up short, “Wait, I think I know where you’re going with this, I was born in 1969….” So he won’t remember when that place first opened. I heard from him later, and it was exactly what he was looking for, cheap steak, iconic (not ironic) atmosphere, and probably not terribly heart-smart. Still, some days, only a big piece of meat will satisfy. It was that moment of “don’t guess my age, don’t go there,” that broken pause when I assessed my target audience, that couple. Until we get to the start of Capricorn, think about timing and that broken pause. Saved me from looking stupid, but, as it turned out, even thought the restaurant was older than the either one of the couple? It was perfect. Still, how to correctly announce it? That’s your target. Broken pause, saved me.

Leo: I want you, no cheating, no looking at the web, name 10 Shakespeare plays. Trivia-type question. Can you name at least ten? Three or four, after reading my work, a couple of them ought to be easy. Maybe the odd one thatI cite too often, if there is such a thing, but other than that? Ten plays by name? There are, there were 36 plays, now 37 or 38, depending on the ultimate authority and source. A couple of plays are easy, but without cheating, can you name at least ten? Avid and close readers of my work could probably do that, but only because I force exposure via the opening quote. Which funny, in and of itself, because sometimes, some weeks, I look at that opening quote and wonder why I picked it. I know it made sense at the time. Still, can you name ten plays by Shakespeare? It is a Leo challenge. A gentle one and one that I would invoke because I need to distract you from what is in front of all of us, at this moment. So name, from memory, no web, no phone, no peeking, name, from memory the titles of at least ten of Shakespeare’s plays.

Virgo: I’m warning you, this will happen. I was crossing a busy downtown street. Two lanes have the right to turn into the street I was crossing. Got an image? Inside lane has to turn and the outside lane has the ability to, but can go straight, as well. Now then another point, when the cross walk sign displays “WALK,” me, as a pedestrian, I have the right of way. Rules of the road. I didn’t write the Texas Driver’s Handbook, but I know some sections — by heart. There is no right or wrong here. Just observations. Two cars and me. Two cars, turning while I was legally in the crosswalk, and the first car, politely and legally impelled, paused. Crosswalk sign said, “WALK.” The second car, while on the inside lane, honked one then a second time, first, upset that someone was turning albeit legally, from the outside lane, and second, upset that the car in front was stopped when the light was clearly green. Never saw me. Oh, but I saw them. As a Virgo, which one is you? Pedestrian, legally, and politely abiding the law and wondering why everyone is getting upset, and shooting fingers, blowing horns? Or are you in one of the cars? I’d like to think you’re that first car, turning legally, and mildly put out by the guy in the other lane, honking and saluting you with a single digit expression. However, in any case, you’ve been warned to watch it. More information becomes available, although, in that side of downtown? Not everyone seems to know that pedestrians really have the right-of-way.

Libra: “Making a list and checking it twice….” That tune, its message, scares you, doesn’t it? Something you’ve forgotten. Some issue, some item, some one thing, a single task left undone. There should be an ominous organ playing heavy, rather baroque music in the background, as you think, “Self, one item I meant to put on the list and forgot. What is it?” I don’t know. If I really knew what each and every individual Libra forgot, then I would be worth a lot more than the paltry fee I charge. It’s that “impending I forgot something” sensation. I can’t help it Function of Mars, function of the phase of the moon, and the result? I seriously doubt that you forgot something else. That being noted, never hurts to check twice.

Scorpio: Xmas Hot Dogs! No, really, there’s this place, it’s like a deli, only it’s more corner store only it’s less than that. One of those tiny, shotgun place tucked between a lawyer’s office and a high rise, a tiny delivery market. Carters to a mostly downtown lunch crowd so me wandering in on the December twilight was strange. Lunch for me. I didn’t want much, so I opted for the “Chicago Hot dog.” What a treat that turned out to be, soft peppers, onions, then a bright green relish trimmed with red tomato slices. All very good. The visual appeal almost outweighed the flavor. If it hadn’t been a good hot dog, split open and grilled, then it might not have worked as well, but the elements worked well together. This isn’t about a fancy hot dog, either, because I’m more of the cheap, been on the rotisserie for half the day kind of guy. Between the red tomato slices and that artificially bright green relish, it was an Xmas Hot Dog. As a Scorpio, you’re busy looking at big items. I’m looking at something small, tiny, maybe right in front of you. Don’t make this difficult. Enjoy the season and maybe, enjoy an Xmas hot dog. Or a similar treat that’s not expensive and right in front of you.

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

Use of this site (you are here) is covered by all the terms as defined in the fineprint, and there might be, maybe, a material connection between the hot links and this site (sometimes).

© 1993 – 2022 Kramer Wetzel, for &c.

  • Sarah Smith Dec 15, 2011 @ 12:18

    Really cool about the award. Way to go!

  • TheLeo Dec 17, 2011 @ 15:49

    Haha, yes! Ten plays. Easy. Uh, distraction from what?