Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 7.16.2015

    Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here too?
    Nay then I see that Edward needs must down.
    Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance,
    Of thee thyself and all thy complices,
    Edward will always bear himself as king.
    Though Fortune’s malice overthrow my state,
    My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.
    King Edward in Shakespeare’s Henry VI, part 3 act 4 scene iii, line 41-7

Saturn and Venus.

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 7.16.2015


“Machine’s not working, I’ll just give it a little love, Chicago-style.” Girl was working behind the register at a corner convenience store. I was stopping for an over-priced bottle of ice-cold water on hot summer’s afternoon. I heard a resounding “Thwack,” and the cash drawer sprang open. It was, sounded like, a painful open-palm slap, that, had that been me, I would’ve been left with a stinging face, maybe a palm-print etched on my cheek.

“There, see? Nothing our love can’t fix.” With where the planets are? Especially Mars, Mercury, and as the Sun heads towards Leo, but not there yet? A little love, a little Cancer-style, Chicago-style love is in order. Careful, though, not too hard. It would be real easy to see that gentle slap breaking the register.

“Oops, a little too much love.”

That’s going to hurt me a lot more than it will hurt you.

The (mighty) Leo:

I beg, I plead, I grovel, I beg some more, and still? Nothing. The point, my most excellent Leo friend, the big deal, right now? Got one, last lucky shot before this week is up, one, last chance, one play, one more opportunity to make the big, majestic Leo score.

Much as I implore you to follow up and go for it, most of my Leo friends tend to be a bit too lazy. If it isn’t served up, then there’s no interest. Before the birthdays start, this is one shot you’ve got. One chance. Take it. Make the play, bet the farm, something, anything, well, maybe don’t bet the whole farm, but you’ve got a shot, a chance at something. Got to take advantage of it. By the next horoscope, it’s Leo time, and the Sun moves into Leo, but before that happens? I expect you to take at least chance on a long shot. Oh yeah, and next week? Venus moves slowly into Virgo. One last chance, one last long shot, one opportunity you’ve thought was too risky. Take it. Please?


Before you see me again, before the next horoscope rolls out, before the next “astrological” event on the horizon? Before Venus slides into the tropical zodiac sign of Virgo? There’s an uncharacteristic Virgo impatience. There’s the promise of relief, but this is the beginning of the “Month before your Birthday,” known to some as Leo, known to you and me as a time fraught with tensions and wondrous visions.

As the Virgo, you can see clearly, precisely, and accurately, what everyone should be doing to make this a perfect world. As a Virgo located on planet earth? Herein is the problem, the visions you have with assignments, edits, and directions, the goals we should all be perusing? That vision — the problem with it? Communicating with the rest of us, what our assignments, what our roles, what our parts are to be, and how we are to play them. Therein is the problem, the challenge for Virgo: as the director, you know what’s best. As the Virgo, you really know, as the Virgo Sun Sign on planet earth? Getting those directions out to us? Getting us lined up, and moving in an orderly direction to make you happy? Not going to happen. It’s like herding cats. Worse, cats eventually respond to obvious inputs like food and cat toys. Humans are less responsive.

Short form advice? Quit trying to get us to do your bidding, this next week. (Even if you are, and I know you are, right.)


Recently, I was doing a reading for a Libra client. I’d start to say something about a situation, as dictated by the location and pressure from the planets, and then? She’d cut me off. Launch into a tangential diatribe about some — sort of — related incident. I’d bring the attention back to what was at hand, the planets and their pressures on the Libra psyche, then another slightly askew rant was forthcoming. Went on for the duration of the reading, and then?

Libra looked at me, “We’re out of time, how much for another session? Can we do this now?”

Sure, and the meter’s ticking. Me? I got paid double. Libra complained, interrupted, talked over me, and if this were truly a cartoon, the image is a Libra running over me with a vehicle, probably a big 4X4 truck, as a cartoon figure. In order to prevent this, my little Libra friend? Don’t interrupt. Even if we’re slow, misguided or apparently off-target? Don’t interrupt. We have a destination in mind, and it’s for your own good to listen to us. Even now. Pause. In the example? At least let me finish a sentence, or Libra? Stop and take a breath.


Old truck I used to own? Only had an AM radio. I liked it fine like that. At one point, I would only listen to right-wing, conservative talk radio, after all, on AM? All that was available, in English. It’s 20 years gone, that truck, but I sort of miss the tinny audio of the AM radio, squawking news and belching opinions with a hollow, tenor-like sound. Not long ago, I put a play list from a favorite (Capricorn) performer on an older iPhone. To keep the battery in shape, I let that play list run until the battery drained. More than anything else, it reminded me of old-time AM radio.

So this is about ambiance. This is about setting a tone. This is about riding around in an older vehicle with the windows down because the AC doesn’t work. This is about the hollow sound of bad AM radio, with programming that’s questionable, too. This is about “retro” and jumping back to a simpler time. AM radio is the symbol, but it will vary from Scorpio to Scorpio, as to what it is. I doubt we’re going back 20 some odd years, but that’s the idea, there’s a throwback from the past. Time to look, embrace, and maybe, if it worked? Emulate.


As a Sagittarius, not by design, but the way it happens? I’ve relied on the kindness of strangers and charity to help ease me through some mighty tough times. Wasn’t by choice, exactly, and as I was looking at this week’s charts, the placement of various planets, there’s some tension, free-floating, unattached problematic thinking that will nestle down in the Sagittarius brain, if we let it.

Make no room for such negative thoughts.

A little too “think positive thoughts and there will be good results,” and little too bumper-sticker-ish, still, the idea is not without merit.

Be nice to strangers. Open up and shoot for a single kindness — with no expectation of anyone ever returning the favor — better yet? Do this anonymously. There’s a long explanation for this, steeped in deep metaphysics and wrapped around several belief systems, but the short version? As a Sagittarius, we’re “tricking the universe” by helping someone out, which sets up a dynamic where we, as Sagittarius, can be helped out. The problem? The help won’t come from where we expect it. Or from whom we expect.


One word for this week? “Deflect.” Simple command. Look it up in a dictionary, if the message isn’t too clear. We’re trying to keep Capricorn on track against what seems like insurmountable odds. True, it does seem like there is one too many forces opposing you, but this is a dance, not a battle scenario. Deflect. Move around, dodge, usurp, dance (previously mentioned), skip, twirl, spin, duck.

One of the martial arts, I’m not sure which one, offers a bunch of movement where the attacker’s energy is transformed around the martial artist and then, that attacker’s energy is directed back to him (or her) self. Complicated dance, no? Tedious allusion.

Easiest way to work within the framework of the planets, this week? Deflect.

Violent Femmes had a song, I kept thinking of, about dancing. Fit for this week, too. You know what they say, or rather, sing?


For many years, I tried to eat “organic.” I would shop carefully in the expensive grocery stores and make sure I only had free-range, grass-fed, no-pesticide, certified “organic” materials. Veggies and such. Fruits. Cracked organic smelt wheat, I think, that was one. Eventually, though, the “all organic” route started to get too expensive for my tastes. To be sure, I still splurge and get an organic apple from time to time, but mostly, these days, I get whatever is easiest, not necessarily labeled “organic, no additives” kind of food stuff.

It’s about convenience. It’s about what’s easiest and simplest. While I’m big on the idea of locally-sourced, like, farm to market kind of venues? There has to be something that is easy, too. Grocery store at the corner. Or, in my most recent example, I started buying at a fruit stand around the corner, which, in itself, might or might not be organic. Before the next horoscope rolls over, think about me moving from strictly organic to “whatever is easiest to acquire,” then consider a similar idea, a similar plan in Aquarius, possibly starting even before the next horoscope pops up.


There’s a certain kind of non-sensical verse that helps at time alike this. I wanted to write a series of horoscopes in Dr. Seuss style, with rhymes and couplets, plus veritable menagerie of characters that are, at best, highly unlikely, in the real world. Not everyone knows what Dr. Seuss is like, or that he had a mathematical background, so there’s a certain amount of logic to his nonsense and wordplay. There’s a certain kind of logical, mathematical progression taking place in Pisces, but the deal is? It sounds like witty, almost pointless chatter. It sounds like a Dr. Seuss book.

“You’re on top of the world, so give a whirl, the Pisces in you is the best that can be.”

I’m certainly no good at that type of material, but as a Pisces, with the current state of planets and their respective positions? You can make some rhyming slang that makes thoughtful sense.

“You will go far, I know that are.”

Recall, there’s a mathematical, logical progression to the way this works, just sounds silly, but it makes perfect sense.


I like Aries because, as a whole, they tend to be honest, straight-shooters. “This is the way it is, plainly put.” Only, in the next few days, the shortest route from where Aries is right now, to where Aries wants to be in a few days, or few hours? The shortest route is not the shortest distance. The easiest way to get there from here?

Many years ago, the local airline ran a deep-discount special, and I bought a number of travel tickets on sale. As the year unfolded, those cheap tickets served me well, but there was a problem, as I flew from El Paso to Lubbock, to Dallas, to San Antonio, then to Austin, finally. I spent more time flying — would’ve taken less time to drive. I didn’t realize that when I booked the cheap tickets. I thought about that year of circuitous flights as I was looking at the directions for Aries. Sometimes, the easiest way, the best way, it isn’t always the most direct, and at no time does this appear more than this next few days.

Imagine a square, and you want to got from one corner to the next, but, due to price, routing, or I’d like to think the planets, you have to go around the long way, covering three sides instead of just one. As it turns out, that’s really the best route for Aries, this next few days. Longer, more indirect is really shorter, for you.


“Don’t tell me to ‘Just breathe!’ That’s not working, can’t you see?” It’s panic-stricken Taurus. It’s a problem, and the problem is, no one seems to understand the gravity of the situation, other than the panic-stricken Taurus.

“That’s right, I need you to fix this, like, NOW!”

We’re working on it. And until we can straighten out some of this mess? Until we can adequately address the problem with a useful solution? Just breath. Big breaths now in throw the nostrils then slowly exhale the bad feelings with your mouth. Repeat.

“I can’t take time for your stupid, stupid ‘Just breath’ crap right now, can’t you see how dire my situation is?”

Ye, and I’ll agree that we need to find a solution. But in the meantime? Just breath. This is getting easier, you know, and there is a hope on the horizon, with the first glimmer of hope showing up as Venus enters Virgo. Until then?

“Just breath.”


There’s particular fondness that I have for librarians. As the original “architects of information,” starting with the Dewey Decimal System, long card catalogs of book names and numbers, way before anything was “computerized,” librarians are the ones who held the keys to the where the data was located. As such, I have a certain fondness and respect for librarians. There’s always the odd fantasy, too, with the bespectacled librarian ripping off the glasses, letting the hair down and turning into a vixen. It could happen, I’m sure.

I’ve got several clients with “Librarian” certificates, and there’s really much more than just putting books on shelves, and helping odd people find text that relates to the age of Shakespeare’s extant folios (my last library question).

It’s matter of knowing where to look for what you’re looking for. Which is why a librarian is so important, especially now. Someone who knows where to look for the information is what’s important. Pointers on where to look instead of the usual, “I’ll just Google that,” which returns too many results that, oh, would you look at that, over there?

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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