Horoscopes for 5.2.2019

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

Gertrude in Shakespeare’s
The Tragedy of Hamlet (3.2.166)

Way I hear it most often, directed at me? “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Roll of the eyes. I tend to not correct misquotes like that. Happy Taurus birthday, either way.

Horoscopes for 5.2.2019


There’s an ongoing communication thing that is important. Less about what you’re communicating, and more about how. What I try to do, in person, I try to be as precise and concise as possible. Doesn’t always work out that way, but I try. Make a concerted effort towards that goal, concise and brief. So I do tend to be a little long-winded at times, and no person in my line of work got here because we didn’t like being an occasional story-teller, but that’s not what this is about. Not so much what you’re saying, but how you’re saying it. That’s the birthday message during this next few days. For Taurus. Not what, but how. Listen to your volume, if this is a verbal delivery. Read over the message, if it is textual. Look at the image, and make sure you got it framed and filtered right before you post it. It’s less about the content, although, yes, content is important, but more important? How you say it. This next few days, think stylized text message, or a sentence that is all emoticons, whatever. Happy face — smily face — unicorn, &c.


More! Better! Faster! Pick one. Can’t, won’t do all three, but there is the drive to accomplish it all. It’s a Gemini thing, and as such, yeah, or, better yet, “Yea verily,” there is that drive to get it all done in hurry. More. Better. Faster. Pick one. “But I want all three!” Sure you do. Plus, think about it, I’ll suggest you, as a Gemini, you deserve all three. This week, even. but it might not happen. The deal is?

There’s a certain kind of pressure to perform, a certain kind of pressure to produce, and certain kind of pressure to hurry to perform and produce. The more you hurry, the further behind you get. Therein is our very Gemini problem, hurried actions result in sloppy mistakes, that we have to go back over and correct, which, in turn sets us back even further in arrears, which, in turn, just pisses you off, which, in turn, just makes you hurry even more, and make more mistakes that require corrections. You’re running really fast, inlace, slowly sliding backwards. With, pause again, let’s stop and look at what I first suggested, “More, better, faster.” Pick one. Concentrate on one. Fix one thing first. Not all three, just one. Pick one.


Low-level anxiety is a killer. Not the major stuff, not the big issues, not big deals, but fretting about minor stuff. Little things that are, in the grand scheme of life, really inconsequential. That’s the killer. “Stress is the killer.” Not really and fretting about the minor details is the cause of that internal Cancer — Moon Child “stress.” It’s not really a stress, in its classical definition, but a minor outlier of stress. Or, as suggested, just call it “Low level anxiety.” The planets are the source of this sort-of troubling mental anguish, and letting it run away with the your crab-like psyche? Therein is the problem. Worry about the details, yes. Obsess? Maybe not. There’s a way to shunt this material, this low-level anxiety off on to either other people or the back-burner of the crab-like psyche. Whatever works? Whatever works, works. Find some way to disabuse yourself of the minor stress. Big stuff? We can worry about that, later.

The Leo

Can’t find the exact source for the quote, or, I can’t be bothered to look, but it way it resonates, especially for The Leo? “Fail seven times; start over eight times; it’s a winner.” I could find that, and get a more concise version, but that’s not happening at the moment. It’s about the difference between a loser and winner, and I like The Leo to be a winner. Every time, but that’s not how the real world works because there are other signs, besides Leo, gumming up the works. However faced with a less than successful outcome for a single step in a project, or a missed goal? “That was an epic fail, not just a missed goal!” Nope. Not accepting that. Just means we start over and figure out a different way to obtain that goal. Not an epic fail, as the one Leo so eloquently put it. Successful people fail three times and start over four times. Do the math on that, Leo dear, do that math. So this is about starting over, if need be. With Mars still in Gemini? What I was thinking, first try is just that, a first try. Rough draft. Second effort might make it. Get back up, dust off your royal Leo self, and make another run at it. You’ll succeed became The Leo is always a winner.


Don’t argue. I know you’re right. You know you’re right. I know you’re armed with facts, figures, details, and details about the details, all which go to prove, yes, you’re right. I know you’re right. You know you’re right. Asserting yourself? Therein is the challenge, the problem, and the solution, all presented in a single package

Yes, you’re right.

Don’t argue. I was in asocial setting, and I asked someone her birthday, and her quick, needled response? “Like horoscopes? I don’t believe in those.” Virgo, not that it matters, but that isn’t the point. I stopped, right there. Where I live, you’re either a fan of the local sports franchise, or you’re an outcast. So I quickly deflected to the old familiar, “How about them Cowboys?” (Spurs, in San Antonio). This is an example of me, not arguing (with a Virgo, not that it matters). Moving on into the next few days? Don’t argue. Gets nowhere, really fast, and leads to personal frustration. I like to prevent emotional constipation — especially in Virgo — and the best way to do that? Don’t argue. Like I suggested, yes, you’re right, but arguing a point is a losing proposition at this time. Know that I know you’re right, and then? Don’t argue.


“Yeah, no, I don’t want to.” Wave it off with a pleasant Libra smile. Simple wording, very simple phrase, pleasantries, delivered with a gracious grin, a gentle, or perhaps wan, smile. Libra tends to be able to wave stuff off, whether it’s task, failed goal, or a job request, all of that can easily be waved off with typical Libra Charm.

That’s the stuff that matters, typical Libra charm.

Can’t package it, exactly, and can’t bet on it working every time, but for the next few days, let’s get Ms. Venus out of opposition to you, and while we’re doing that? Perfect expression, how to deal with recalcitrant energies, and peoples?

“Yeah, no, I don’t want to.”

As a boss, as a boss of Libra on some occasions, I have to work with what is appealing. In order to motivate that Libra to do my biding? I tend to package the request as a puzzle and question, like, “Can you solve this?” My — as a non-Libra — problem? I’m going to get that same answer, back.

“Yeah, no, I don’t want to.”

The amended version is “I don’t want to right now.”

Libra: “Yeah, well, no, I don’t want to.”


We talked about this, right? No? We should’ve, you know. Yes, well, right. The influence of certain planets, and it doesn’t matter what kind of a Scorpio you might think you are, the influence has a tendency to push limits. Goes two ways for a decent Scorpio like yourself, this pushing limits thing. It can be quite good, you know, making you reach higher, try more, give it an extra push that gets you closer to your goal. That’s the upside. The downside version? One snarky Scorpio in the back will suggest that there is no good that will come of this, ever, and that I hate all Scorpio folks, again, not true, but that’s not the question — no, what that person sees is an obstacle. An insurmountable object blocking ingress and egress for the Scorpio will. Working through this imagery associated with these planet placements, I kept getting a similar sounding idea. Scorpio, back up. Back as if you’re going to take another run at this obstacle. Back up as if you were going to tackle this differently. Or, back up as if you were going to take another running charge at the obstacle. In doing so, keeping your eyes on the problem? I think you might see a different way to get around it. Starts with backing up, to look at it again.


The sour Sagittarius is not a pleasant image. Happens, though when it seems like one too many failures start to stack up. One too many times when “things” don’t go our Sagittarius way. It happens. “Things” do not work out. It happens. There are weeks, and this would be a good example, when, it would seem the stars would have it look to be all really good stuff, all the time. Read one of the happy horoscopes, and yes, you’ll also realize that theme is so much happiness crap, there is no room for “real world,” and loathe as I am to admit, we do need some real-life scenarios to help leaven our normally ebullient moods. Or, as some would say, this week is fraught with minor inconveniences, that, over time, can turn us into a Sour Sagittarius.

Yes, it should be all wonderful, and if that’s your week, then I’m very happy for you! However, because there will be a series of minor inconveniences, nothing major, not the end of the world in any way of seeing this, but forgotten appointments, missed connections, or something as simple as I had the phone on the silent mode for a meeting? Forgot and left it on silent for the rest of the afternoon, and missed a couple of calls. Just social stuff, but still. Annoyed? Yes. End-of-the-World? No. But between that and the bank holding a deposit for an extra 24-hours, plus the neighbor’ s dog barking all night? See? It’s not our Sagittarius selves, but the results are the same, sour Sagittarius. “But it’s supposed to be good!” It is, and how we deal with the minor material is a true measure of how much good stuff we will ultimately receive.


Trends emerge, and the emergent pattern, in Capricorn’s week ahead? Bubbling. There’s something bubbling, and to me, it looks, feels like, seems to be something bubbling right below the surface. Can’t put a finger on it. Can’t seem to get handle on it. Can’t seem to define what “it” is. Bubbling, gurgling, brewing, lurking? Yes, that sense that whatever it is? It’s just below the surface. At a spa-resort-sacred place in Northern New Mexico, there are these “mud baths.” Some kind of healing, curative, restorative powers imbued in the sulphuric aromatic blend of mud and hot water, spring-fed hot springs. I’m not sure. While I have had a holy soak in the hot tubs, the mud baths haven’t ever been too appealing. However, thinking about that, and watching the mud itself slowly burble and bubble? That’s the same feeling in Capricorn. There is something lurking right beneath the layer of our conscious world. The subconscious is a mighty powerful thing, and one I try not to toy with, but, there it is. Lurking. Oozing. Bubbling, and gurgling like that mud bath. It’s there, we can smell it, taste it, but just can’t seem to put our Capricorn hands on it. The trick is, this is just below the surface, and trying to grasp it? You got nothing. Know that it is there, and have faith it will make itself known when the time is right.


Not being a parent myself, I don’t have firsthand experience with this. However, as an observer of humanity? Watching various fishing buddies, as their kids grow up? The kids show up with dreams and aspirations, limitless hopes that only the young have? “I’m going to be a star!” The original parental comment? “You can be anything!” However, as time and growing concerns, plus the way kids can — apparently — wear down the parents, especially single dads? “Yes, but all stars go to bed at 8, like their parents tell them to.” Not a high point in parenting, but not uncommon, either.

I’m not a parent
I don’t know.

With no firsthand data available, but plenty of supporting observations, I understand, eventually the kids wear one down to the point of nefarious adult tricks. “You can be a star, but you also have to go to bed on time.” Clean your room; take out the trash; eat your veggies — whatever it is. Sure. It’s all about a negotiated truce.


Some years back, when I lived in a different place, I developed a fascination with a certain sign that was empty. Strictly speaking, it was a sign frame, with a void where the lettering and lighting would’ve been. The message it evokes, the empty frame and the no-sign sign? What it spells out? Without spelling out any particular message? What’s that message? The empty frame, and then, across intervening years — this kind of symbolism pushes more ideas. There was another billboard, when I first started visiting the gulf coast, it was a sad billboard. Falling down, and over the years, it, too, eventually became a frame. After the hurricane a few years ago, nothing was left but stumps. The image, the original image for this horoscope, though, it was an empty sign frame, perhaps atop a tall iron pole, concentric tubes that get narrower towards the top, holding up an iron frame. It’s that empty frame, and I liked the image when it framed the sky. Gives a different definition to a “Blue Sky” situation. To achieve this week’s message for Pisces love? Blue Sky that baby, however you have to frame it.


No surprised here, I dabble with various belief systems and symbol sets. In one kind of mythology, the symbol for what I call Aries was “transformation.” There was a short set of superlative comparisons, delineating how Aries can be an agent of change. The problem with such pablum? Same words could be applied to any sign, just about. Maybe not Pisces, but who cares? The trick is, the platitudes, think like bumper sticker wisdom, and that’s what this was, a list of traits and attributes, which, maybe not everyone has it, but everyone is capable of having. Some are mere goals that might never be accomplished, but valid goals, nonetheless. Never stop aspiring to greatness? The trick is to string together a few platitudes that sound wonderful. Pretend that those characteristics can only be applied to Aries. Drop that on the world wide stage. Or, skip it. As an Aries, though, change is inevitable, and it’s percolating right along. Either embrace the change, perhaps, like the symbols suggested, be the agent of change.

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“Nothing runs on automatic.” - L.W. “Bud” Shipley, Jr.

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.