Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 8.8.2013

    “A victory is twice when the achiever brings home full numbers.”
    Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing [I,i,7]

Oddly enough, Shakespeare never attended a university.

LeoThe (mighty) Leo: While I seriously don’t make a habit of this, I have been on boards and I have been a (volunteer) director. Ask me, and I’ll swear up and down, to whatever is deemed holy, that I will never, ever serve in that capacity again. Never. Never — never — NEVER!

These were volunteer gigs, and I did it to be of service to my community. What was I thinking? Obviously, I forgot. Never did end well for me. Never was an uplifting experience. Never worked out to my advantage. If I am going to volunteer time (and energy) to help make the world a better place, I’ll be more selective and hopefully make judgement calls about business boards.

Am I done with my little Leo-flavored tirade? Maybe. As a hint, and a nod to the birthday this week, the special, extra-special birthday this week?

“A motion to adjourn is always in order.” Let’s have some (birthday) cake.

Virgo: In my line of work, in my field of expertise, there are a few assumptions I have to make. I thought about this because I stumbled across the chart of a buddy’s ex-wife. I recall the last time I did a reading for her.

I was wrong. I assumed that my buddy and his wife — at the time — were working things out. Therefore, I moved forward in manner that reflected that kind of happy reconciliation.

It was an assumption on my part, having had dinner with the happy couple, not two night before. Safe assumption. Predictable. Safe, predictable, and most important? Wrong. I was blind-sided by the separation then divorce, and looking over the wreckage? Postmortem? It wasn’t obvious. My friends, clients, did there best to hide the facts. I wasn’t totally duped, but I was operating off an assumption that proved to be incorrect.

I can save your Virgo self pain, suffering, and worse? Humiliation. You can’t take anything, not this next few days, nothing can be taken at face value. Assumptions are, more than likely, wrong.

Libra: Friends of mine, a couple, he’s well-over 6 feet tall, and his wife? I think a half-minute short of 5 feet. Fun couple to hang with. He’s a traveling salesman, and she works in an office downtown, or something. That means he’s gone, up to three weeks at a time. If I were a burglar, or otherwise inclined, the deal is, an attack is safer when he’s there. When she’s alone? They now have clips (magazines) that hold 42 rounds of 9 mm ammo. She would empty one, reload, and then ask questions. She has a 9-iron, an aluminum baseball bat, and she is a black-belt in some kind of mixed-martial arts. No, an intruder would be much luckier if my buddy was there. My buddy would just pull himself up to his full height and that would scare off most miscreants. If he’s not there? I don’t think there will be much left of the intruder. Intruders. Maybe not even enough to identify the remains. Small packages. Small things. People who are not very large. Planets that aren’t too large. Pay attention as Mercury begins to ratchet up your talk button.

Scorpio: How many times? Ask your Scorpio self, “How many times?” I had an expensive (to me) fishing pole. Cost close to a $100. The ceiling fan in my old trailer in Austin ate the tip of the pole. That happened exactly once. Never happened again. I learned from my mistake. The pole itself, used to be 7-foot, it’s now a modified, stiffer-tip, 6-foot, 2.5-inch model. The trailer didn’t originally have a ceiling fan, I added it. I lost one fishing pole tip to that fan. Never again. I learned from my mistake. There’s this one Scorpio, you know who you are, and this horoscope is intended for you. How many times? In my example, the fishing pole and the ceiling fan? One time, for me. But I’m no Scorpio. How many times before you get the message?

SagittariusSagittarius: I travel. Not a big deal, not to most Sagittarius, we all tend to do well with travel, in all its forms. It’s an enjoyable experience. This last trip, I got someplace, and in my haste, I discovered that I had two sets of toiletries, but no toothbrush. In my shuffle to get out the door, I added two kits that had razors, toothpaste, portable shampoo, deodorant, but no toothbrush.

Odd. I keep at least one toothbrush in my carry-on, as is force of habit, the pack that stays with me all the time. I had removed the toothbrush before leaving. Odd, even for me. On one sales list, an item popped through — an app for making lists for travel.

I’ve done this a long time. I’ll always forget something. Part of the travel process. Doesn’t worry me. The app? I looked at it, “Travel List,” and it didn’t do anything special — not for me. There may be a flaw in my existing system, but just adding an app to the phone, that doesn’t guarantee I’ll remember to check the app.

Don’t needlessly complicate the process.

Capricorn: The opening quote refers to a victory fought, mostly hand-to-hand combat, with one side — obviously — a winner. I prefer to count victories where I return with an empty bait bucket and a live well full. All depends on how one counts victories. The biggest problem? At this moment? The odds are stacked up against you, my fine, Capricorn, friend. Can’t do anything about bad numbers. Here’s an idea, do nothing. Or, better yet, to assure success? Practice avoidance. I used to suggest that you duck, but there’s this “Duck Tour” in Austin, and that gets the message confused. Don’t get confused and stay on track. Some times, doing nothing? That looks like a lot of work. The clue, in case it’s not clear? If you can’t win, then why start?

Aquarius: “What’s under the hood?” That’s my question. It was more amusing, while it sounds like a typical car reference, and it is, there’s much more. I was looking at a “professionally done” website, and I wondered what the motor was, what engine was running the site. Gave me the Aquarius question for the week, “What’s under the hood on this baby? What makes it tick?” Is there large motor with lots of parts, or a small, super-efficient driver? All depends. The site I was addressing, it looked all slick and clean, but the tell-tale images were there. The way the pieces fit together? Old-standard, stand-by. Nothing is new, nothing at all under the sun is new. Wait, there is something fresh, it’s about the approach. As you get headed into this next few days, think about the window-dressing, the stuff you use to adorn the motor. Like, if this is a car, what kind of body? Two-door? Four-door? Mini-van? Go-kart? What kind of skin will you put on to make this change? The fundamentals remain the same, but the layer on top?

Pisces: I was chatting with a friend in Northern New Mexico. Me, I tend towards Southern New Mexico, as I have, over the years, see astrofish.net/travel. So my perceptions of Northern New Mexico are colored by my own, rose-colored glasses.

“Yes, we’re totally green, you know, ‘solar powered snow plow’ in the winter?” I never heard the term before, “Solar-powered Snow Plow,” unawares as I might be that there is such a contraption, “You know, let the snow melt?” I get it, now. I felt mildly stupid, but not really, as snow, any type of frozen precipitation, that’s what I tend to avoid. Completely. Slick, cold, and not conducive to my well-being. I’m comfortable with that.

This isn’t about weather, either, this is about taking the easier route. As a wondrous Pisces, think about the easiest solution to that immediate problem. Like my Northern New Mexico buddy, maybe the simplest way to deal with the issue is to wait.

Think about a “Solar-Powered Snow-Plow” to clear away that last, troubling, little Pisces problem — this week.

astrofish.netAries: “The dog ate my homework,” that excuse has been replaced with, “The computer crashed, taking my whole paper with it.” Erased it all, huh? That’s the story you’re going to go with? There comes a time in Aries life when the excuse doesn’t work. There comes a time when you can’t get away with, “The dog ate my homework.” There comes a time when, “It wasn’t saved, and the power went out!” That kind of lame excuse? That’s the problem, it’s lame. You’re limping along on a lame excuse. Doesn’t work. Three words, maybe dressed up, as the situation requires, but there simple words, to make this move along faster?

“No excuse, sir!”

You will have to change, address, modify, and otherwise bend the sentiment to your individual (Aries) needs, but see how this works?

“No excuse, sir!”

    “What is the effective range of an excuse, private?”

    “Zero meters, drill sergeant!”

Taurus: U2, the band, not the plane, but the band, named for the plane, but wait, oh, never mind. I was in a tourist trap kind of store, and I was idly lingering, casually turning over items and looking at the bottom. The name of the town was printed on the trinkets, but on the bottom or each item? Usually said, “Made in China,” and in one example, “printed in Taiwan.” I was amused, but this isn’t really new data. The in-house sound was softly playing elevator music, and the song? U2’s song, crooning, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…”

As a Taurus, have you found what you’re looking for? In that tourist dump, I did find what I was looking for. The touristy material? None of it was locally produced and therefore, of no value to me. What I found was I was happy with what I had. I don’t need to buy any more ‘stuff’ to make me happy. As a Taurus, think about it, that song, its lick, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…”

But I have. So have you. The stars say to stop looking for something that isn’t there.

The Joshua Tree (Remastered) – U2

Gemini: I was out, one fine summer’s eve, with a buddy and his latest girlfriend. Buddy’s name is not “Bubba,” but thanks for asking. We were off to see a show, three good tickets to a performance in the old theatre here. My buddy didn’t want to miss a single thing, he’s a little weird like that, like to get there, like, 15 minutes early. So we were scurrying along, still had plenty of time, but he was trying to hurry this new girlfriend. “I can’t walk that fast, I have short legs,” she stopped us in our tracks. It was fun, to me, in a perverted way, to watch the wheels in my Gemini buddy’s brain start to work. “Have to be there 15 minutes before curtain,” I could see him thinking, “but this is a new girlfriend, must be nice to get what I really want,” and that last thought was punctuated with him leering at the new date. The trick, to this week, to my buddy’s dilemma? Realize that you built in an extra 15 minutes so you can slow down to accommodate the rest of the Gemini entourage. You did think to leave extra early so you wouldn’t miss a thing, right? If not? Now you know, leave an extra 15 minutes early so you can slow down for the short date.

Cancer: Got an ear-worm for you. Old Austin music, from back in the day. Horribly dated material, and yes, Black Cat Lounge, Wednesday night? That was the place to see them. Then the Steamboat, both long-dead, mythologically famous “night clubs.”

    This song is for my mother…
    (and the boy she raised)
    “Well I’m the mighty Bonecrusher
    and I live way out west 
I’m a gambling’ man by nature
    but bonecrushin’s what I do best…”(1)

The fun part of the inter-webs is how arcane bits and pieces of social-pop-media can live on, in smaller, more insignificant pieces. This is another example of band that’s more myth than band. Saw them, live on Sixth in Austin, back in the day. Do the math. I walked over from a trailer park. I rarely annotate a horoscope, but this is an example of one that needs the notes. The two venues mentioned were legends, where legends played. That one song, though, it was — it is — a raucous rock’n’roll anthem, and in at least one version, filled with profanity.

Still, the music carries a momentum, and even though, the Cancer birthdays are long over, I’d hope that there is a lingering momentum, something to urge you forward. Soldier on, good Cancer Moon Child!

Live At the Black Cat Lounge – Soulhat

(1)Bone Crusher, Soul Hat, “Good to be Gone
(c) 1994 Currant Records.

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 KramerWetzel.com.

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