Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 4.24

    “Horrible villain! Or I’ll spurn thine eyes
    Like balls before me: I’ll unhair thy head,
    Thou shalt be whipped with wire and stewed in brine,
    Smarting in ling’ring pickle.”
    Shakespeare‘s Cleopatra to the messenger in Antony and Cleopatra [II.v.62-6]

Always appreciate the comic relief from Cleopatra’s “Don’t beat the messenger” scene. It’s a role I’d never like to play, the messenger, and yet, looking at the heavens? I get blamed for the message that’s coming from the stars.

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 4.24.2014

taurusTaurus: Imprecision can drive you crazy. Imprecise statements, measurements that are approximate, and numbers that are arbitrarily rounded up and down, with no discernible pattern? Drives your Taurus self crazy, now doesn’t it?

This horoscope start off with mush. Not exactly mud, but — perhaps — particulate matters suspended in a colloidal fashion. Like mud. Mud-like substance. Mud-like consistency, anyway.

With the advent of Taurus birthdays, though, there’s a chance to mix and mould that mud-like material into what you want it to be. Think about this over the weekend, and next week? Starting on Monday? Take that imprecise, solid-without-form material and use that Taurus birthday wish to make it what you want it to be. Wish it. Dream it. Make and mould it with your own hands.

Gemini: I picked this up from a feminist friend. She claimed that studies proved, “Women think 90% more than men do,” and half the time?

“50% of that ‘more than men’ is about sex.” If I understand correctly, then the numbers are, this is according to my “Feminista Friend,” women think about sex about 45% more than men do.

I find those numbers a little suspect, but that could just be me. When I was a young man, young male, as the term “young man” implies a degree of adult-like characteristics, and that’s something I’ve never lived up to, but as a younger person, I did think about sex. All the time.

What she said.

The unwinding of the planets leaves us with a long, almost meaningless sidebar item, like the question, “Do women really think more about sex than men do?” Our Gemini focus is scattered. Might be unnerved. Then, you’ll start arguing with me about what the various genders spend all their time thinking about. Does this one matter? The Gemini energy is very scattered, and unless you have absolute, verifiable evidence, we can’t reach a successful conclusion.

Cancer: I’m from Texas. I wandered around and settled back in my native Austin for the formative years of my career, then drifted a little further south, sort of washed downstream by the waters of fate. As such, this is rather amusing quote, one I picked along my travels, “Need to check with the CDC before going to OKC.” Center for Disease Control, and Oklahoma City. There’s a sporting rivalry between Dallas (Mavericks), San Antonio (Spurs), Austin (UT Longhorns), and OKC’s (something) team, as well as OU, the Red River shoot-out, every fall. Any chance to make snide comment about one team or the other. Doesn’t matter which side you fall on, if you even care about a sport rivalry between states, you can adjust that comment, “Need to check with the CDC before going to OKC,” adjust it to fit your Cancer needs. There’s a little warning, too, as the comments have to have some degree of an edge to them, yet, the comments should also be fairly innocuous.

The (mighty) Leo: The way I envision Leo, this next week? Look up. Look back down at your lap. You have a notebook. Maybe a phone. Or a small laptop computer. Look up. Look back down. Quietly make a note on the tablet. Phone. Whatever. Look up. Look back down. Appear to corroborate the evidence. Look up. Look back down. In your lap, there’s a either a phone, or tablet, or notebook computer, or pad of paper, those long legal pads are good for this, or even a tiny notebook. Doesn’t much matter. Pen, pencil, stylus, keyboard, touch screen. Look up. Look pensive. Look back down. Repeat. Pay attention: there’s huge rumble in the present conditions going on, and it doesn’t get you — your Leo magnificence — directly. Not directly. Take note. Look concerned. Have empathy. Don’t take action, not quite yet. Take notes. Look up. Look back down.

Virgo: Remember the platitude, “Jump! And a net will appear?” Right. Ask any good Virgo about that. Then, too, there’s the “Leap of faith,” and the “good lord will provide.” Sure. All of these and other, similar exhortations suggest that Virgo take action. Jump! Now! It will work out!

Sure, as a good Virgo, you’re reading this, you are a good Virgo, ask yourself, “Self, how many times have ‘they’ said that? And how many times have I landed on my head?” It’s a painful way to learn that the suggestions of actions, followed by abysmal failures, over the years, we learn not to do this so much. Still, by the time we get to the end of this horoscope, there’s a hint, a suggestion, an idea. In one situation, just like this, I introduced a friend to a (Virgo) friend. All I did. Turns out it was partnership of mutual benefits for both, and that business is still going on. I’d think less about “Jumping,” and hoping a net will appear, somehow, magically, and I’d think more about introducing two people, places to each other. Introduce, facilitate, act as a catalyst. No jumping required.

Libra: One of my east coast friends, like, Eastern Seaboard — east coast — was headed this way for a vacation. I suggested she check with the Department of State to find out what shots she needed to travel in New Mexico. “Oh, right, good idea, I’ll call.” New Mexico is a member of the United States. Has been since 1912. More than half of New Mexico was originally Texas, but that annoys them out there, so I won’t bring it up. While there is a certain “foreign appeal” to the Land of Enchantment, it is a United State. Not big in population, but big enough. Great — not good but — great chile harvest each year. Birthplace of modern rocket science, too, but I’m not sure how important that is. The planets are conspiring, playing a planetary prank on you. Are you getting it?

“Are you sure I don’t need shots and money changed for New Mexico?”

I’d suggest you check with the hotel, but at least one guy I know, he’ll tell you you do need peso monies, and he’ll answer with a straight face.

Scorpio: I’m no great connoisseur of the “Ink on flesh” art form, but I try to pay attention. Oldest example was I correctly identified a person’s sign from a carefully disguised, but plain to me, astrology glyph worked into the art.

“How did you know?” (My sign.)

Uh, it’s part of your tattoo? Kind of obvious. So this is one that sort of threw me, it was a musical note, inside a very clear representation of Saturn. Not without antecedents, sure, Elvis, Jimmy Buffett, Robert Earl Keen, but no, this was a guy in Austin. Eventually, I got to inquire and the purpose of the musical note and Saturn symbolism was to remind himself where he was going, where he’d been and that making music was most important. This isn’t about a tattoo, other than as an example. This is about where you’re going. Goal. Scorpio destination. Saturn will help you along, if you’ll let him. I didn’t say it was easy, but keep that single, Scorpio goal etched in your brain this week, like that one guy with Saturn and a note, inked in his skin.

Sagittarius: Whole wheat, really, cracked, sprouted wheat, is better than refined, white flour. Health nuts assure me this is true. So a place that offered “Whole Wheat Cinnamon Rolls” looked appealing, kind of. I might expect that in Austin, but to find it in South Texas was a rarity. We can suggest, easily enough, that the idea washed downstream from Austin, in the Colorado River, and that’s where the idea came from. It’s a good idea, one with merit, both healthy (sprouted, whole wheat) and tasty (cinnamon, sugar, baked goodness). To be blunt, though, exactly how healthy is changing one ingredient in that traditional breakfast treat? Just switching from white flour to whole wheat? No change in texture, consistency or flavor, just a small notion that it is “healthier.” If it’s really good cinnamon roll, about as big a small dinner plate, then it has close to three tablespoons of sugar, couple of sticks of cinnamon, and maybe half a stick of butter. Dash of salt and sprinkle of baking powder ought to about do it, right? Doesn’t really look like progress, my fine, Sagittarius friends. Is it progress, or are we merely falling in the delusional group again? For that matter, a cinnamon roll is comfort food, and that does mean it’s good for emotional health, right?

Capricorn: When do you call it, “Over?” When is it done? When is the issue finally dead? What’s the point of no return? When do you throw in the towel? When do I stop with questions and come up with solutions?

I was fishing, last fall. I was thinking about this one trip, last one of the season, in as much as there is a season, and a cold, north wind whipped up in the afternoon. Hadn’t been bad, but the wind added a little chill. Only had a cooler half-full of fish. I could get miserable, stay out and fish, and probably not catch much more, or, in my wisdom, I decided to call it a day.

Temperature dropped that night, cooler weather blew in, and I was glad I got off the water when I did. Not as many fish caught, but then, the reports from the day after the cold front? No fish at all. This is an example of calling it “Over” at the correct time. As a Capricorn, you know what I’m talking about, when is it time to call it over?

Aquarius: “If that child don’t straighten up, I’ll use my ‘Mother-in-law-tongue‘ one him!” Client, sort of a mom-daughter thing, like a three-way reading with mom makes noises about her daughter’s current selection in the mate department. Not getting along together too well. Still, well enough to hang out with me. I’d never heard of the term, “Mother-in-law” voice, tongue, anything to do with a “mother-in-law” vocal element. I’m not totally sure what it would sound like. I think I should be afraid. Or the offender should be afraid. Do not hesitate to use your “mother-in-law voice.” Works wonders, so I’ve been told.

Pisces: Cold snap, a couple of weeks ago. I regretted a decision I’d made to pack away my long pants. I don’t mean they are in storage, but I’m down to about two pairs of “dress” jeans that fit, and those are in a big suitcase bound for northern climes, late next summer. In other words, I packed a suitcase for trip next fall, and that’s where my cold weather gear is. By late February, with some exceptions, I’m in shorts and sandals until next winter, like — usually shorts until at least Halloween. I had a choice, a decision, faced with unlimbering a suitcase with long pants, or, there are other options. I didn’t leave. Stayed in the warm domicile. It’s not much, but it’s nice enough.

Faced with a similar Pisces decision? Follow my simplistic route: take the easy way out. I left the pants packed. Don’t want to get the suitcase out, unfold the jeans, lose the crease, wear them for a day, have to haul off to the laundromat, then, fold them up and pack them away again. During the cold snap? I avoided that by staying inside. Avoidance is one form of problems resolution. Works well. Besides, here in South Texas? Cold weather blew through here in less that 48 hours. Problem solved!

Aries: There are several routes I can take to get to the local post office. A mostly direct route, on foot, is reasonably short. Not particularly interesting or scenic; however, it is not without some merit, mostly, being the most direct route. However, I was thinking, looking at the Aries chart, chart influences, I was thinking, there must be an infinite number of routes. I tend to take the longer way, myself, more like off to the store, then a coffee shop — perhaps a convenience store for my brand of “street food,” then off to the Post Office. Circuitous. Not very direct. Good exercise. As an Aries, though, the trick is to follow one of my longer, more arduous routes. The quickest, sanest, safest way to get “there,” from “here?” Hint: it’s not a straight line.

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 KramerWetzel.com.

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  • jose quinones Apr 26, 2014 @ 16:31

    I wish I could play a prank of the planets, but knowing the extremist prankster that I am, I would surely end up getting banned from the galaxy; heck, the universe probably!