Horoscopes for 9.12.2019

    “My father nam’d me Autolycus, who being, as I am, litter’d under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsider’d trifles.”

Shakespeare’s Winter’s Tale IV.iii.22

Happy Virgo Birthday!

Full Moon September 13, 2019, 11:32 PM at 21 Pisces.

Horoscopes for 9.12.2019


Mars adds a level snark to Virgo that, to some, has been previously unnoticed. Birthdays, yes, Full Moon in Pisces, yes, other events as need be, but that’s not what this is about; however, what it adds up to? You’ve got an extra dose of caustic wit, ready to unload. Kind of dangerous, too, as that Virgo snippy comment can really hurt — cuts a little too close. Yeah, well, you’re right, you were 100% correct, but still, that’s some painful stuff. Don’t need to be mean about. Then, I had a thought. Perfect response, you can have on hand, ready to use as need be, this week?

“If you don’t want a sarcastic answer, then why did you ask such a stupid question?”

Happy birthdays, etc. Might want to tone down the snark. Oh, you can hurl epithets at me, I’m used to that from Virgo, but others? Tone it down?


Coming back from fishing, we’d taken a long run out in the bay, and the ride back? Afternoon wind had kicked up. Bay’s water was churned up and choppy, and ride itself was a pounding. Thin padding on the seats, too rough to stand, and just an overall experience I would like to never repeat. I’m getting too old for this kind of a ride.

Looking at the planets in their placements, and relative motions made me think about last week’s long, rough ride back to shore. Sit down. Shut up. I was sitting on a cooler that had some fish in it, so I had nothing to complain about. We could’ve cut the trip short when the wind kicked up, but no, the fish were biting. No room to complain. May be it wasn’t the most comfortable ride back, but there is a margin of success, and I’ll take it. August was a weird month for fishing, anyway. What my fishing buddy told me? I’m telling your Libra self, “Sit down. Shut up. Hold on.”


This full moon is about Scorpio filters. “You mean like an air filter for the truck’s motor?” No, not the kind of filter I was thinking of, when I suggested the term. “Then, like an AC filter for the vent at home?” Both of these perform the same function as what I was thinking about, and suggesting, for Scorpio, but no, however, that does remind me, need to change the AC filter at home.

No, this is about filtering incoming data. There’s a strong intuitive hit, happens every fall for Scorpio, but that hit doesn’t include a filter — not this week. So the week is about filtering the incoming data. While I like to rely on my intuition, I also have a enough research material on hand so I can quickly, and easily, locate a source for whatever it is I’m talking about.

I can make stuff up, but — especially with Scorpio — I prefer to use fact-checked, fact-based data to drive the decision process. The intuitive “hit” for Scorpio comes from that Full Moon in Pisces. That provides the intuition. Great! Now, before taking action, or assuming that it will work out like your intuition tells you it will? Before doing anything like that? Pause, stop, think this through. While I understand, and believe, “A little voice in my head told me so” is a valid source of data? Yeah, the rest of the world needs some more supporting evidence, and as a Scorpio? This week requires more supporting evidence than just “My institution suggests...” At least, that’s what my intuition is telling me to say to you. About this week’s Scorpio stuff.


One stoic-like person described luck as “Preparation and acquired skills meet an obstacle.” I was trying to invent a suitable quote rather than relying on past masters. But it’s about good luck that is merely hard work, skill, preparation, training, sound choices, in other words, hardcore dedication to a task, and then, reaping those rewards when the situation finally presents itself; being prepared and then utilizing all these skills when called upon to act.

Standing at an expensive, rather deluxe “all you can eat buffet” with my Sister, in CA, the buffet included sushi, I smiled broadly. Years of crap-fest road food, and ‘all you can eat’ buffet places in the oil patch of Texas? Training. Preparation. I’m ready for this one. I had to make sure I doubled up on the money, make sure that I could eat my money’s worth at the fancy place. It was expensive, and yet, I think I managed to make it so they lost money on me. Training, preparation, acquired skills, all of that, meets an opportunity.

They call it luck.

I call it being prepared. Skill, hard work, dedicated training, and correct tools meets adversity. And they call it luck? We’re Sagittarius, we are unnaturally lucky, but some of this? Like right now? Have to practice and be prepared or we can’t make this look easy.


Last of the summer fun, and that means? Bare feet on the dash. It’s an image, kind of recent, for me, but one I learned that is almost archetypical in nature, at least in my world. Typically, it’s a female, front passenger seat, with bare feet up on the dash of the vehicle. Usually a guy driving, and most often? I’ll see this headed towards the Texas Gulf Coast, beaches! Hurricanes, too, but beaches, beers, babes, sun, and sand.

So, for me, the seen this in Austin, too, headed to the lake, but most frequently, I see this image, usually a truck, or truck-like vehicle, and usually the legs are attached to a female with long hair. All I can make out as their rides zip past me. The dying embers of the summer, the full moon and its energies push for a last image, and all I can think is that the fall fishing ought to be good. For me, I hope to see this image, soon, again and again. Bare feet on the dash, means we’re still going coastal, Capricorn, and means we’re not giving up on the summer’s fun. Here’s to bare feet on your dash.


Some years back, I was asked about computer gear, and my answer was along the lines of I automatically assess who is using what kind of laptop, when I enter a coffee shop. Just habit borne of years road warrior-ing from place to place. Kind of a way to assess where people are at.

At first, Apple products were rare, then they became more commonplace, and finally, the default tool for most folks, thanks to the ubiquity of the stupid smart phones. Anymore, the other laptops are rare, and I wonder if I would improve my geek credit rating by opting for a weird, off-brand laptop.

Then again, I can do most of what I do on a phone these days, so why bother? At one point, we’re so engrained with our tools, does it matter that much? Another way I heard it? “If you’re a hammer, then the whole world’s problems look like nails.” This is a week when we are best served, here in Aquarius land, we’re best served if we just use what tools are at hand. Radical change is good, yes, but this might not be the time for that.


I have this one friend, worked alongside me for a while, and to me, she’s extremely attractive. It isn’t her looks, per se, more that inner glow, a light from within that shines brightly. Totally a judgment call, and probably not politically correct, but this illustrates a specific point with this week’s Pisces energies. It’s that “Light from within” that is most important. Not the packaging, or the outside material, not the covering, but in that person’s eyes, there’s that bright sparkle, a twinkle, a light that outshines her physical presence.

It’s not the covering, the outside wrapper. Not the biological bag, the flesh associated with this person, and to make this better, less judgmental? I have at least two male friends, exact same experience, that allure, the look, the sparkle, and it has nothing to do with the packaging. Inner glow, inner beauty thar radiates outward and blinds the rest of us? That’s what works. No amount of war paint, window dressing, make up, or fancy clothes can compete with that bright, internal light. It’s that internal light that needs to shine


For the last few weeks of this summer, I was getting up early and walking up to a coffee place, getting a cup of coffee, and walking home. Not quite three miles round trip, and in the pre-dawn light, always an interesting trip, a contemplative, meditative time. What I couldn’t understand, there are two main people making coffee, a (usually) blonde woman, and a bearded guy. Both are Sagittarius. My Sagittarius brothers (and sisters), and both know me well enough. The difference is, even though my morning order has been the same, three shots of espresso and about 8 ounces of hot water? Even though it is identical, and that place uses a machine to pull the espresso itself, so there is no discernible difference?

Got that? No reason that there should be any difference whatsoever, other than the person making the coffee? Got that, no different recipe — at all. Even though there is no change, the flavor from the Sagittarius female tends to taste sweeter. As dawn leaks into the sky, and as the bats start heading towards cover, catching one, last meal, I could detect the faintest difference, the male-made coffee tastes a tad more bitter.

Not a complaint, no, not a problem, just, the coffee she pours, for some reason, after it cools off and I’m home? Hers tastes sweeter. Exact same machine. Exact same blend of coffee. Exact same temp and time. Hers tastes sweeter. Can’t explain, just observing. As a Taurus, taste is subjective, and quite important. Notice the subtle shift? With all this Virgo stuff? Just get the person who pours the sweetest — I still can’t figure it out. He’s a December Sag, and she’s a November Sag. Just get the stuff that tastes best, whichever one works for you.


One of the frequent memes I encounter is about picking a single book, or text, that changed my life. Over the years, as I played along, there have been any number of books that substantially “Changed my life.” But trying to pick one book? This week’s choice would be the Complete Works of Shakespeare.

No, wait, I would pick (insert this week’s title). The challenge is that this is a fickle and ever-changing situation, fluid and dynamic, as age, reading level, and world (life) experiences add shading to whatever it is that I’m reading. Or listening to, as well.

As an exercise, pick a classic for yourself, a Taurus classic, the one text that changed your life. Or show, song, can be any kind of a work of art, but I prefer to think, in looking at the Virgo flavor this week, in terms of a novel. A single piece of work that changed the Life of Taurus forever. It’s about visiting those roots, the bedrock, the foundation elements that make us who we are, a piece of art, something like a book, that influences who we are. Pick one book that changed your life forever.


One of my friends is a good, amateur plumber. In other words, for home fixes that need someone above my ability, but not really professional help? He’s good. Last fix? “Need a three-quarter female no kink.” How can I not make a joke about something like that? “No, man, a three-quarter inch female that’s straight.” Again, no joking? He rolled his eyes. I stopped off at a plumbing supply place, and I looked down at my phone, “I need a three-quarter female, no kink.” Kid behind the counter scurried off and came back with a brass fitting.

So, it really is a thing. There were several others, over the next few weeks, as I was trying to “winterize” the outside of the house. Some of this is simple stuff, simple fixes. Other material, though, is the language used. The plumber’s language was fascinating, in its own right, but the names — begs the question — how are we not supposed to make a joke? With so much riding on Gemini, the biggest problem? Being serious when the situation is serious, but, ah, c’mon, how am I not supposed to joke about a three-quarter female no-kink?


I have one loyal reader who claims to be unsure, over the years, of where my ideas start and that person’s ideas end. Which one is which? It can be confusing, as I’m unsure of where some of my ideas come from. More than one person has suggested a pipeline to the almighty but even I don’t believe that too often. Can’t let it go to my head. In a rational moment, I’ll explain that I’ve studied people, pop psychology, and the stars for my whole life, and I’m just applying observations and inferences to explain, justify, and otherwise elucidate behaviors.

But no, the heavens don’t open up and beam transmissions from some deity into my head. No, just doesn’t work that way. Maybe it does work that way, but I try to be a mere vessel, I’m the messenger, not the message. Follow my oath on this one, just for the next few days? It’s that Virgo thing, you know. You might not know from whence the ideas originate, but taking credit for them? Think about me pleading, “I’m just the messenger, a vessel to carry the missive, I am not the message.”

The Leo

Buddy of mine was living with a certain Leo woman. Great couple, he adores her, and she responds like only a good Leo can. Just, I never did quite get all the dynamics of the relationship. Kids these days, huh. One day, she was admiring a ring, that she bought, for herself. The Leo bought herself — to my untrained eye, it looked like an engagement ring, and to my understanding, she was wearing it on the left ring finger. However, as she carefully pointed out, she bought the ring for herself. A statement, and the symbolism is lost on me. My buddy, he just shook his head, and he didn’t say a thing. Not one word.

I won’t pretend to understand the intimate dynamics of that relationship; they are still together; and they are as happy as can be, so it seems, and I trust what my buddy says.

But the ring incident was curious to me, and I asked The Leo what the symbolism was, and she had some kind of wholistic prattle about being good to one’s self. There are more things I don’t understand than I do understand. The ring was a symbolic gesture, and I don’t understand the rest of it. Worked, for whatever reason. And that means, this next couple of days, a symbolic gift to your fine, Leo self might just be in order. I don ’t understand, not completely, but then, I’m not The Leo, so, yeah, I’m not privy to the exact dynamics.

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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.