Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 10.15.2015

    Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
    All of one nature, of one substance bred,
    Did lately meet in the intestine shock
    And furious close of civil butchery,
    Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,
    March all one way and be no more oppos’d
    Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies.
    King Henry 4 in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, part 1 (1.1.10-16)

Horoscopes by the Fishing Guide to the Stars starting 10.15.2015


Libra“Kramer, you have (3) requests outstanding!” It’s a piece of unsolicited commercial e-mail, aka, SPAM, that made it through my filters. I was amused, as I’m sure it’s just an ad for whatever it was. A few spots above it, there was another ad, “Kramer you have (5) requests outstanding!” Basically, the same ad, but the users increased. If I had bothered to dig backwards, I’m sure it start with (1) request outstanding, and that brings us to this week’s Libra question. What is the magic number? How many requests outstanding do I need to see in a piece of obvious junk mail before I’ll take action? What is the magic number? (1) didn’t even make it through the filter, (3) made it through but irritated me a little, and after that, (5) requests? I wonder if it get over a dozen, if that would work? What I did? As a Libra, what you might want to think about as we close out the very last of the Libra birthdays and as Scorpio starts? I moved the junk mail filter on my computer over a notch, little slider thing. Now? I have no requests outstanding, and I’m less irritable. How’s that for the meteors of a troubled heaven?


A favorite artist had a video up on the YouTube thing. It was an hour, hour and half performance piece. Lovely stuff. I’m unsure of what to call it, performance? Sure, as much as anything, post-modernist material, for sure. In the little spaces underneath the artist’s — apparently — self-posted, short intro?

In the comments section, the very first comment was a heinously debilitating slam, on the artist, against the art form, pretty much an “Ad Homonym” attack.

There is always someone, on the internet, who is willing to argue. Can’t argue with that person, too, as the commentator tends to hide behind a Nom de Guerre, with requisite holes in the logic. “Can’t argue with stupid heads.”

My singular comment? Don’t start a war right now. Especially, don’t start one of the war of wits, even if you, as a Scorpio, are usually better armed. Arguing on the internets with someone? That’s like wrestling with a pig in slop, pretty soon you learn the pig likes it.


“Do not take this medication with Viagra.” Simple instructions. I would think, too, that the message would already be clear. Dr. prescribed some pills for me, and like any good patient, after I picked up the prescription, I searched for the term online. First question, after the ads? “Can I take Viagra with this medication?”

Seriously. Seriously? I’m amused at what drugs interact with other drugs. I’m on a very low dose of several medications, as the body ages, despite my best efforts, there are bits and pieces that need chemical adjustments. Or benefit from small dosages of certain substances. I just do what the doctor (Sagittarius) orders. All good.

Read the label, pause to consider which way you want to go, and seriously? I’ve never needed that kind of pill, not bragging, just observing, and as a Sagittarius? With where the planets are now?

Read the label. Don’t mix drugs — or other substances — that ought not be mixed together.

Pay attention to the fine print.

Sagittarius: If you need Viagra, then maybe you don’t need heart medication. Seriously, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.


In the days passed, I used to make sure that I always had business cards with me. Over the years, my phone numbers have changed, my physical locations have changed, but the constant has been the e-mail and web addresses. One or two constants that have remained the same. Odd, too, how that works out, that the only permanent feature I’ve managed to maintain is the impermanent one of a website address, and its associated e-mail addresses. Same address for years and years, been some time now.

I was working at an event, the other afternoon, and I had the usual material spread out, the tarot cards, the astrology charts, all the stuff, ready to roll. I reached into the bag, and I pulled out the card case, for the business cards. My contact information. I used to be obsessive about making sure I always had a few cards with me. “This is how you find me!” I was down to about three business cards. I had some, and I had a handful of experimental cards, with a blog website and colorful logo I designed. Sort of a contact point, but not much of one. Just my experimental artwork and web efforts.

Might not be a business card that is most important to you, Might be a phone, might be a tablet, or even just a (paper) notebook. However, whatever it is? Make sure you’ve got it. Like plenty of business cards for me.


“Kramer, Kramer! Wait! You’re not doing that right, here, fool, let me show you how it’s done. Damn.” Fishing trip, not long ago. Early on, I caught a Skip-Jack. Fun fish to play with, but basically, a trash fish. Long and skinny, fights like a monster, and it’s best used as bait. Rather oily meat, all bones and sinews, greasy, and frankly, not suitable for my palate or plate. But as a bait? Great stuff. Pictures are on the website someplace. However, I do know how to cut that bait, but I didn’t want to, so I feigned that I was doing it incorrectly. My buddy stepped in to “Show me how to do it right.”

That’s the trick, next week or so. Ask for help. Or, when helps is offered, “Here, let me do that for you, show you how it’s done?” That’s the perfect expression.

We’re learning how to work with others. Another expression, and this is really Aquarius subtext to this week’s stars, “I know how to do it, but if you want to help, sure, you do this.” Maybe we keep that to ourselves.


I was messing around with one buddy, not named Bubba, but thanks for asking, an we were talking about a house problem. His roof. It leaks, however, in his favor, it only leaks when it rains. When it rains, it’s not safe to crawl up on the roof to fix the leak. A few weeks later, I’m talking with another buddy, and his name might be bubba, and he was complaining about a water leak, too. I chimed in with, “It only leaks when it rains,” and he chuckled. His leak was the drainage on the AC unit. It only leaks when it’s not raining, or when it’s raining, it doesn’t matter.

I have an old trick, in the places I’ve lived, in the past, I’ve always made sure I had some cheap bleach, kept it right by the AC drain so it wouldn’t overflow. Got to keep the drain clear. The roof? I’d suggest it’s time for the roofers.

The general disclaimer, “It only leaks when it rains?” Might not work. As a Pisces, this week suggests we stay away from generalities.


AriesI can, when I’m focused, get enough material covered inside of a single morning session. In other words, I start at 6 or 8 in the morning, and by noon, I’ve put in a full day. Usually takes one pot of coffee, perhaps, and some kind of strange ambient music. My tastes for this tend to be slightly eclectic. One spring, I listened to nothing but heavy German opera, for almost six months. Weird, but it works. When I’m focused enough, I can have a half-day’s work completed before 9 in the morning. It’s matter of bringing all of my attention to bear upon the situations and material, to hammer out what needs to be straightened, or bent, whatever the situation is. Takes me most of a morning. Focused. No distractions. No, rather suspicious, “research,” which, to many, appears to be mindless web surfing.

It’s called “focus.” As an Aries, if you’ll tap into your focus, you’ll find you can get a whole swaths of material properly covered, “Create, Read, Update, Delete,” in almost no time. The key is “focus.” My secret is to just get it done. Look at the material, assess, stay on point, and get through this. The stars lean in and lend you assistance, but the trick? Jump on it. Take advantage of it. Move ahead. Stay focused.


There were nascent Xmas images creeping into the retail displays. Halloween isn’t over yet, and the it’s Thanksgiving, and like my father before me, “There will be no Xmas before its Time!” Which means, no Xmas lights, no displays, nothing red and green until the first day after Thanksgiving! Everything should be in a proper order.

For me, Halloween is more than a holiday for clowning around, it’s really a high holy day in some systems, the time when the veil between worlds is the thinnest. Primarily a Northern Hemisphere kind of holiday, but retail sure pumped it up.

This isn’t about Halloween, or even Xmas, or Xmas in July, or why the world doesn’t understand that the last week of November should be a universal holiday, you know, football and all?

The original direction, though, is about Taurus, and holidays that should occur in a prescribed order. Like my father before me, there will be no Xmas shopping until after Thanksgiving, and as a Taurus? That’s how this works, everything in its specified order. No jumping ahead.


Sometimes, it’s the little things. Sometimes the little things turn into big things, and sometimes, trust me my Gemini friend, there is a simple solution. I was sitting on cushion on an office chair, I was there for work. Something kept needling me in my butt. I picked up the cushion, turned it over. I kept feeling something sticking me. I picked the cushion up the turned it back right side up. Wasn’t major pain in the butt, just a little pin-prick-like feeling. I wasn’t getting anything done because of the cushion. My first effort, what I finally did, I just slipped the cushion under the desk. No more pain in the ass. An hour later, I absentmindedly picked the cushion up and laid under my butt. Hard office chair, solid wood. The little pinprick was back.

I pulled the cushion out and started feeling around where I figured the problem was originating. What I found was the end of one of those plastic pricing tags that was inserted into the cushion, and under the right conditions, like my butt, the leftover plastic shard was shafting me. I got out a pair of pliers, and I pulled the plastic through. Didn’t get all of it, but the painful part was gone.

Sometimes, the littlest of inconveniences cause the greatest pain. Or distraction. There’s a pain in the Gemini backside. Examine it, see if there isn’t a quick, maybe not too elegant, but quick fix. Only took me all morning to figure out what the source of the trouble was.


I have a private stash of poetry I’ve written. I refuse to release or let prying eyes see my poetry. It’s really, pretty bad stuff. However, I did write it, and I have saved it. Upon my death, that stuff will be left to posterity — a literary legacy, or, more likely — tossed. Landfill. Works for me. As a Cancer Moon Child, you understand, my reluctance to either post, publish, or toss the poetry. I don’t think it’s any good. Perhaps heirs and assigns will find solace in it, or maybe, they’ll just toss. Either is OK. For now? I can’t bear to part with my eccentric scribblings. Meant something at the time. Anymore, my material just shows up online, as that’s the way I’ve grown accustomed to working.

Like me, there’s a private Cancer stash of something, maybe even epic poetry, or paper diaries, I’m not sure what it is, exactly. I’m just using this as an example. Paper diaries leftover from the teens? Who knows, right?

What to do, right now? It’s OK for you to look at this stuff, but it’s not OK to publish it, post it, or otherwise publicize it now. There might be an urge to do so, but no, not now, not a good idea. These planets are better served with Cancer being introverted, not extroverted.

The (mighty) Leo:

The “modernist movement,” I’m thinking Bauhaus, know the reference? There lines were clean and sleek, stripped, almost. Rounded corners, sleek-looking, implied high speed and aerodynamic builds. No harsh corners, or jutting material to get in the way. Think about a “modernist movement” in Leo, just for the week. It’s really a rather simplified way of approaching the situation. Take what’s there, and strip it down. What are the parts you need. What are the parts you really need? Minimalist, in effect.

I just like the “modernist” look and feeling I get from gazing at the “modernist” designs. Archaic, almost, but with an essence that speaks to a time, and way of being. There’s a sort of “retro” sense to this, as well, retro, yet modern, in its dated way. Strip down the essence of what Leo needs right now. Strip it down to bare bones, then add back parts that serve a function, like a cooling fin, to keep you cooler than the rest, or maybe some aerodynamic cowling to make the wind slip right off as you go faster and faster. Which you will. Strip it down to a modern-looking Leo. Your planets are all about stripping it down to sleek, lean, clean Leo machine.


Great guitarists and hair metal from the 80’s? I’m thinking the intersection of art and noise, as classically produced by Van Halen, early albums. Nothing less than glamor rock that meets fast fretwork, and a wall of sound. Bad behaviors, are legendary too. Were legendary. It was the 80’s (I was too young to care, or know better). What’s antique rock’n’roll got to do with Virgo? It’s that classical rock, wailing guitar, metal, smoke, wind, flash, and trash. All of that. It’s more than just a sound, there’s a sense that goes with it. Almost an innocence that is associated with that music. Just a handful of albums, and I doubt I can crank it up as loud as I used to, not without neighbors or girlfriends complaining.

Which might be part of the problem, but stop and think this one through, it’s about what that music might represent. Play some of that for someone who was born in the 90’s, and there’s an interesting reaction. “Yeah, kind of dated, but surprisingly good.”

To me, it seems to hold up. Which is the exactly point. With Mars, Venus and Jupiter lined up in Virgo? Something old that’s new again. Works. Despite my many skills, I won’t be windmilling and dropping to split in proper air-guitar style. But the sentiment remains.

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.

Use of this site (you are here) is covered by all the terms as defined in the fineprint, reply via e-mail.

© 1993 – 2024 Kramer Wetzel, for astrofish.net &c. astrofish.net: breaking horoscopes since 1993.

It’s simple, and free: subscribe here.