Horoscopes starting 9.1.2016

    I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
    Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
    Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
    With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine;

Oberon in Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night’s Dream 2.1.248-52

Horoscopes starting 9.1.2016



The Virgin

There’s always something mystical and enchanting about Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night’s Eve. There are also the elements of a more mercurial nature of the fairies in it, with a classical Mercury Misstep when randy Puck gets the right potion in the wrong person’s eyes. It’s a fun bit of summer stock, too. I’ve seen various versions, and I think there’s an RSC/Netflix version that’s fairly innocuous, kind of light and frilly. No dark side to the Faeries enchantments. With this current disposition, the Moon is yet new? Despite, or because of, the current condition of Mercury?

There needs to be a light and frilly approach, dictated by the planets, for Virgo. Not too married to a specific outcome, because, well, with Mercury? Like Puck’s mistakes? Comic relief.


How much are you going to buy into this? There’s a problem, and it’s “Libra adjacent,” but it’s not really a Libra problem. “But it is my problem, too, you see?” Frankly, no, I don’t see. This is a “Libra adjacent” issue, but not a Libra problem. “But because it’s SO close, it is a problem!” Are you sure?

With everything in Virgo, including a Retrograde Mercury, and then Saturn playing tag with Mars, in Sagittarius, no, this isn’t about Libra, not directly. The biggest goal, the single, most important action at the moment? No action. Have to ask yourself, “Self, is this my problem? A burden shared is a burden lessened, sure, but, is this really my problem?” Under careful Libra analysis, I’m pretty sure that this turns out to be “Not your problem,” although, sure, you can help. But I wouldn’t offer too much assistance. It’s “Libra adjacent,” sure, but it’s still not in your backyard.


One of the biggest problems with horoscopes like mine? As I tend to be “All natural?” There’s no silicone-dioxide, most containers have less than 2%, but I have none. That’s the stuff included to prevent clumping. Keeps various condiments and powders dry, flowing freely. Find it in salts, peppers, just about any kind of ground up stuff that come from a shaker. Salt, pepper, and their derivatives. It’s an “anti-caking agent.” More than one Scorpio will suggest that my horoscopes could certainly use silicone-dioxide to help prevent clumping. Less than 2% per container, wouldn’t be too much? As long as Mercury is backwards, like this, where it is, in the Scorpio chart? As much as there’s a temptation to add some “silicone-dioxide” as an attempt to keep everything flowing freely? No clumping, no caking? Should you be “All-Natural,” with possibly clumping and caking? With Mercury in its position? I’d suggest no additives to the Scorpio Scope, and not get upset with minor clumping. It happens. Probably would happen, anyway.


It’s the “Chinese Finger Trap.” Growing up when I did, the “Chinese Finger Trap” was a universal party favor. While it’s nothing more than a slim tube woven out of straw, for some children, maybe an adult as well, it can provide hours of entertainment. Might be a bit hyperbolic, but the trick is, stick an index finger in each end of the hollow, woven tube, then pull apart sharply. Fingers are stuck! The harder one pulls, the tighter the grip. Hours of entertainment for the whole family! To get the loose weave to release? Relax the fingers and push together.

Sagittarius: This week is a finger trap. The harder we struggle? The tighter the grip, and the more, other (non-Sagittarius) folks at amused at our discomfort. Then, there’s also our inability to break free from the little toy’s grip.

Sagittarius: Stop struggling, as that only increases the power of the grip, making it even harder to break free.


Change of pace, and this is probably work-related. Change of pace. With our increasingly mobile technology, the ideal left over from previous decades? The ideal of working anywhere? Still applies. In this week’s Capricorn example, I was working on a picnic table. Standard issue, Parks and Wildlife picnic table. Metal tubes, rounded bolt heads, and wooden boards that have seen better years. Looked like there were three layers of industrial paint, yellow at the bottom, then covered with some shade of russet, finally the last coat, must’ve been years ago, a dark green.

Perfect place to work, right after the holiday. Momentary quiet, fresh (city) air, and the late summer din of insects. Before long, as I was working, I started slapping at black flies, biting black flies. Then gnats of some kind. Mosquitoes, too. So while I was quietly sitting on the park’s picnic table, my legs were doing the “Don’t bug me dance.” The change of location serves you well to help prevent some of the localized astrological fallout. The problem? The bugs bug you. Accept the bugs and marvel at the location’s natural beauty despite the biting flies.


I was watching a TV show. Happens in movies, too, but this was a TV serial that’s apparently, quite popular. A “police procedural,” as it were. The problem? At the office? The characters are talking and it’s first thing in the morning. They go to investigate a crime, and it’s night. Then, they are back in the office for witty banter and plot elements, more discovery. Then it’s night, and there’s a fight, or a firefight, or something, maybe a car chase at night. Then it’s the office and daytime, with coffee and background interoffice politics. The timeline, the attempt to keep the day/night timeline intact? No effort whatsoever. And that’s a problem. In movies, this is called “continuity,” but with serial TV? Much less important. I think an hour show only has about 40 minutes of action, which, again, in my mind translates to about three acts, going, I. Problem, II., Complication, III., Resolution. In the real world, where Aquarius currently resides, Mercury, yes, retrograde, and your Aquarius self will pick up on problems. Hint — Aquarius — the real word doesn’t script out like a TV drama. No quick, easy resolution. It takes time. Can’t get it all crammed into a 40-minute slot. “They left the office in the middle of the day and now it’s dark, how did that happen?” As a bonus? Don’t confuse the real world with the world of fiction.


The key element? Tactical move? As a Pisces, maybe you understand this, but I don’t have other ways to describe this, other than, like, in military terms. Fall back. Surrender. Retreat. Give in. Fall back. The exact military term I’m not familiar with, but I’m thinking this was a battle plan in one of Shakespeare’s plays, and it was adopted from history. That’s where there are three sides, and here’s Pisces, in the middle, outnumbered, outgunned, and the trick is to fall back. Retreat. Step backwards. Move in such a way as to appear to fall back and that will capture your pursuers in a deadly field of fire, eventually. The hardest part, right now? Falling back. Retreating. You did plan ahead, I warned you, you did plan ahead so that this apparent retreat leads to victory?



The Ram

astrofish.net — unplugged!” It was an idea. The genesis of the concept came from a challenge to do an astrology reading with nothing but a book, no computer to handle the heavy lifting, no real time zone calculation, no calculator, none of that. I’m probably one of the last astrologers who knows how to use a slide rule, which was, in a time, the pocket calculator. My slide rule was for education, not really as a valid computational device.

So this is about “Aries — unplugged!” We can make this easy, or we can make this difficult. The slide rule analogy goes even further, as it was good for approximating numerical answers, logs and so forth. Of the two I’ve had, they were only good to about 3 or 4 decimal points, not very far. However, unplugged is great way to see how much we know. In this challenge, I can grab an ephemeris, and I’ve done this long enough, I can answer questions and make reasonably accurate predictions, based on planet locations, and those are approximate locations. Not all bad, “astrofish.net — unplugged!” Not all bad, either, for “Aries — unplugged!” The idea has merit, and, assuming you know your stuff, this shouldn’t be a problem. Little bit of a challenge, maybe, to the Aries energies, but not a problem. “Aries — this week! Unplugged!”


Another one of my secret ingredients? “New Mexico Arbole Chili.” To me, it’s a fine powder, mostly rust-red in color, with a fine consistency, perhaps just a shade coarser than Cayenne. Depends on the source, too, but the “New Mexico Arbole Chili” tends to be a little more flavorful, and slightly less hot than my universal Cayenne. Using a dash of that chili powder inspires ordinary food.

The “New Mexico Arbole Chili” inspires without overwhelming.

Cayenne can be just too hot for some. The challenge with the New Mexico chili I’ve grown fond of? The biggest problem is that the consistency, the heat quotient, varies from package to package. There’s no uniform flavor or heat equivalency. One package, I could easily spoon a teaspoon onto a piece of fruit, and the pepper’s taste was like paprika, not hot. The next package? Different distributor? The exact same chile in name and ingredients? Almost as hot as regular Cayenne. While I like it like that, it can overwhelm a dish, and sometimes thwarts of the food’s need to have its flavor accented, not trampled. With what’s happening? I’m sure you’ve got a new package of something you’ve used before. Sample, test, and make sure it’s the same as before. Make sure you test it, taste-test, in my example, before jumping right in.

    Biggest thing to be afraid of, old expression? “It worked before.”


A “square,” in my astrological parlance, is a tension angle. An “opposition,” again, when I’m discussing astrology terms, is a weird, sometimes tense, sometimes flowing angle. We got both, but most notably? Mercury is retrograde in a tough spot for most of the Gemini. Can’t say this snuck up on you, or you were “unawares,” nope, those excuses don’t fly at this time.

To harness this energy? It’s time for the Texas Three step. Oh, to be sure, everyone’s heard of the Texas Two-Step. Frequent any dance hall, not just in Texas, but the motion is familiar and popular. Not many folks have heard of the Texas Three-Step. Goes like this, kick your feet out to the side, then swing your hips, it’s just a hop to the left, then a jump to the right, and then? It’s three steps forward, one step, two steps back. Leaves us with a net gain of one step. Texas Three-Step, for Gemini, this week. Bust a move, it’s the best we got.


I’ve got several clients who refuse to sign any documents when Mercury is Retrograde. While I would tend to agree, in spirit, there are times when that doesn’t work out. Likewise, I’ve got several clients who refuse to travel when Mercury is in Retrograde, dreadfully afraid of dire consequences. I understand the position, but I can’t agree with that one. The premise is correct, but the way of addressing the energy is not entirely cogent.

Portable Mercury Retrograde

I can’t skip travel when Mercury is retrograde, but what I can do is be more adaptable. If I have to sign an important document, I run it past a lawyer buddy. I’m adaptable. I tend to not get as worked up. As a Moon Child, there’s a number of elements pushing and pulling on you, and I submit, most of these elements are like ghosts and faeries. Not real. The energies are not real. The effect of the pushing and pulling? Pretty real for Cancer. But what of it? While I tend to enjoy Shakespeare’s Midsummer’s Night’s Eve, I’m not too invested in the outcome. There’s a palpable disclaimer at the end of the play, usually given to Puck. “All a dream baby, all a dream.” These energies? While they wash over our Cancer selves, let’s realize that they not be real.

The Leo

The Lion

The Leo:

I tend to suggest we not do anything that has to do with home decor while Mercury is in its disheveled state. Like now. However, I had an “art project” that I tackled, and I think that would work perfect as something to occupy the magnificent Leo mind.

My art project? It’s an empty frame. That’s all. Just an empty frame. Folks look at it, and wonder, but the idea is ripe to be exploited in a number of ways. Go to the craft store and buy a new, empty frame. I think that’s what this one is from, but who knows? I don’t recall. Other sources are great junk shops. Thrift stores. Goodwill, Salvation Army, pick what suits your current Leo temperament, which might be a little fried at this moment.

I’m a big proponent of not making art purchases at times like this, but think about the art project. It’s a statement that’s full of opportunities and open to a variety of interpretations. Hang the hollow frame on the wall. Subject to hours of speculation, some of which might be about your sanity, but that’s not really in question. It’s how to leave it unfinished enough so the viewer can fill in the blanks, so to speak.

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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