Horoscopes for 1.23.2020

“Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.”

  • Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well (4.1.25)

Horoscopes for 1.23.2020


I had an overnight guest and I didn’t want to wake her. She was sleeping so peacefully, looked angelic, and I just wanted some coffee. Cold, cold winter’s morning. I got up and staggered to the kitchen, pleasant memories triggered by the various aromas left over. I have a hand grinder for coffee beans. I rarely use it, but the usual way to grind the beans makes far too much noise, so I was patiently grinding away while I waited on water to boil. How easily we forget? That process of grinding by hand? I recall why I never do it. Too much work for too little reward. Instead of a pot of coffee? After a few minutes, I had enough coarse-ground coffee for a single serving French-Press. For years, I used a four-cup French-Press style of coffee maker. As a coffee toy, I have a single-serve French-Press, too. I tapped the grounds into the press-pot, added the boiling water and waited about three minutes. The grounds bloomed, then settled down, and I pressed out one the best cups of coffee I’ve had in a very long time. I forgot how smooth that extraction process works; how good the flavor is; what kind of beans I was using; all of that? Slipped my mind, briefly. That single cup of coffee, hand-ground beans, French-Press extractions, and a cold winter’s morning? The coffee itself out of a fine-china mug? The last of the grounds swirling around in the bottom of the mug itself? But that coffee, the stuff between the mesh filters, the hot water, and the bottom of the mug? Some of the smoothest, most delightful coffee I’ve had in a long while. So it seemed, at the moment.

As the Aquarius times begin to unfold? Bounce back to the old ways. The rewards are great — helps to remember that.


For more than decade, maybe two? I’d have to check with the books to know for sure, but for some time now, I’ve used the Roman Stoic, Emperor Marcus Aurelius and his Meditations as a source of solace. I don’t hit it every day, not like a daily meditation, but from time to time, and I have at least three or four different translations that I favor, but from time to time I use the stoic ideals as a source of comfort. Venus, and Neptune, are a source of Pisces comfort. That’s the good news. Good news?

The flip side is not adhering to some of those more stoic ideals. Giving into too much pleasure, getting carried away with a “Good thing,” and not paying attention to the details? Problem. Which is why, we’re back to that kind of casual use I have of the Meditations of Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Not like there’s any been any kind of coherent effort on my part to work my way through, but I have several editions of the texts, and I’ll bounce from a “New Age” version to a rather classic take on the classics, just trying to work it all out. As a suggestion, though, for Pisces with the Venus and Neptune flavor for this week? Look at the stoics. The Stoics.


For most of us, this is a second pass at uncovering the truth. I’ve long maintained a simple, personal philosophy, as I fish and I write horoscopes. No one expects me to be truthful. There’s a basic premise than anyone who fishes — or write any kind of fiction — never tells the truth. Which, as Pluto and Saturn drift apart? That’s what this is about, sticking to the truth. Most of the Aries I know only know the truth, or, maybe “The Truth (tm).” I have — well more than one — friend who leads with, “No lie, true story…” Here, where I live? As soon as someone says, “No it’s true! I know guy who knew guy who said his cousin’s ex…”

“True story!”

As an Aries-compliant person? There are two “truths” this week holds. One is the obvious, as soon as my buddy says, “No, really, it’s a true story!” As soon as you hear that? That’s a trigger point to indicate that there might be a bit of hyperbole, fabrication, and outright lies. But the second part of this? As Saturn tickles that last part of Aries? Stick to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth as your Aries self knows it. No prevarications, fabrications, or tall tales.


Get used to the weirdness? After so much time in Olden Austin, back when weird was really a way of life among a small population in a small town? “Weird” wasn’t a problem. Not a challenge, either. What it represents, though, is a different way of looking at a situation. While I’m — personally — a big fan on “non-traditional” interpretations, I’ve found that this kind of “weirdness” suggests we try a strict, more righteous way of looking at the problem. The issue. Something pops up at the beginning as the Sun (in Aquarius) “squares” Uranus (in Taurus) and this is a moment of strange energies. Best way to harness them? Again, as much as I tend to embrace, for lack of better word, “weird?” As much as I tend to suggest that’s the best way? Just for the sake of getting a better grasp on this week’s weirdness quotient? Try looking at this from a more traditional, tired, staid, conservative way. The old ways. Send on tradition for a moment. Stand on Taurus tradition for a Taurus minute.


Best come-on recently? “Free! (Just pay shipping and handling.)” Sounded like a scam, and it set off my BS-detector right away because, it was, in fact, a scam. Or scam-adjacent. Which means, in the grand scheme, it was a product and offer I wasn’t interested in, at all. Still, I spent a few moments trying to decipher their fine print to see what the catch was. The text itself was free, but the shipping — and handling — was the little part, kind of the “gotcha.” I’ve run, at various times similar kinds of promotions with the idea being that the “free prize inside” drives potential clients to the various buttons that are indicated as “buy now!” The problem, in the inter-connected, overly-stimulated, sarcastic, and cynical world? The “Free Prize Inside,” just pay shipping — and handling — charges is too often recognized for what it is. I once offered a digital product with “free shipping and handling,” but that caused more confusion than it should’ve. I meant it as a joke. Wasn’t always taken that way. So there’s an offer on the table for Gemini, “Look! It’s free! Totally FREE!” Is it? The aforementioned fine print includes the shipping — and handling — charges. You knew someone was going to make a quick buck here, right? Is it really free?


I had Brussel Sprouts the other morning. Friend was in town and she wanted fancy place for brunch. Brunch is like breakfast only there’s usually booze involved. Think she was drinking the champagne and orange juice thing, whatever that is. Waste of good juice and good sparkling wine, if you ask me, and no one did. Still, the place was thoroughly upscale. Had some roasted or blanched Brussel Sprouts that were served with an overlay of bacon and blue cheese. Really tasty except that I have personal conviction that I never have to eat Brussel Sprouts, if I don’t want to, ever again. Childhood food trauma, and one that I finally acknowledged, recognized, embraced then decided: no more Brussel Sprouts. Ever. But these were done in that fancy, haute cuisine way with the little sprigs of garlic, bleu fromage, and bacon. Look: just about anything with bacon is better, and in this example, I was willing and able to overcome my own, internal trauma/drama and enjoy the appetizer. The things were are willing to do for our friends. As this week’s — whatever you want to call it — gets underway in the Moon Children’s sign? Be willing. I was willing to overlook a childhood trauma based on Brussel Sprouts in order to enjoy a delightful repast with an old friend. I’d suggest we all be willing to bend our rules, just a little.

The Leo

Think this is in the Texas Handbook for Drivers, that ubiquitous tome that gets handed out for new drivers? “Every 200 miles, a Texas driver has to tap his/her brakes, just because.” Testing the brakes? Seeing that they still work? There are stretches of highway that are near endless. From Austin and San Antonio, I’ve driven once, maybe twice to El Paso. Seems like 8 or more hours, and once past the lovely Hill Country, just west of San Antonio and Austin? It’s the bleak desert landscape of the Chihuahua Desert. The Oil Patch to some. Middle of no where, to others. I covered much of that area in my youth, and the people who inhabit that landscape are fascinating. The land itself? As a former desert rat myself, I can find beauty there, but that’s me. It is achingly lonely countryside. Warm days, cold nights right now. So the instructions to tap the brakes every 200 miles? That’s two or three stops from here to there. Two, maybe three or four times, have to use tap the brake pedal to make sure that the truck can still stop. Then keep on trucking. Message for The Leo? One of two ways this plays out. Either you’re behind someone who decides, like between Van Horn and wherever, to tap their brakes for no apparent reason? Or, you’re out past Big Spring, and like the manual says, you have to tap your brakes. Or between Sonora and Ozona?


Some days, we have to make certain, uncomfortable decisions. In the olden days of air travel, there was one airline that specialized in poignant yet amusing, if not totally correct, Public Service Announcements. You know the stuff at the beginning of the flight, like how to fasten the seat belt, and “If you don’t know how to fasten the seat belt, maybe you shouldn’t be out unsupervised?” The way I transcribed the message, and then toted this around for years? “Mothers, if you’re traveling with a child, please secure your mask first, and if you’re traveling with two children? Please figure out which one you love the most.” In a row of three seats, there would always be — allegedly — four masks that would drop, and the airline never let more than three people plus a lap child sit there. So the message itself was wryly funny, and as business passenger, more amusing. However, wrapped up in this tale of the good, old days? There’s a subtle message. It looks like a binary choice to this week’s Virgo stuff. But in this situation? Best you figure out which one you’re going to want to save. Yeah, doubt it’s an airplane, and I doubt that’s the trouble, but it looks like there’s a hidden meaning in here, “Which one do you want to save, first?” Me? I’d save the tablet, first. Phone second. Laptop last. “The kids? Oh, they’ll be fine on their own.”


The symbol for Libra is the scales, hopefully easy enough to see. The scales represent seeking balance, and they are inserted between the over-drive of Scorpio and the underwhelmed Virgo. Tricky balance point. In other venues, I’ve discussed the nature of the tricky balance, the way to create harmony between the Yin and the Yang in one’s life. Or as the situations, as they develop, as they demand that much-sought after and tricky to achieve “balance point,” what those Libra scales represent? That’s this week’s goal. Hint: this is a goal, a point we all strive for, it is not a destination. This is more like, “In that general direction,” instead of the “right here.” What this means? This week’s unfolding and irascible energies unleashed on unsuspecting Libra? Means that balance point is to be devoutly sought after. Consider, too, during this week’s turbulent the passages of time, that the apparent goal at the beginning of the week, and the real goal at the end of the week, or even into next week? That goal, the purported target, that destination might shift. Might shift in shape, maybe move location, maybe change wholesale. Can’t tell, which is why, this next week? This is about Libra process. Time and energy expended in moving towards an unverified, and perhaps nebulous direction. Goal. “Headed that way, I think.”


“Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.” It’s a bit of a line that is supposed to look like Latin or maybe some kind of British understanding of a strange Eastern European dialect. It’s whimsey, inserted for amusement, as an arrogant character gets thrown to the wolves and debases himself. Sounds educated, and sounds enlightened, but really means nothing. Now, I have no way of ascertaining what that might’ve meant to an Elizabethan audience, so there is a level of meaning that could be missing. Or could just be what it looks like: gibberish. That’s the caution, too, as Aquarius unfolds against the rest of the backdrop of morning stars. Mars, in Sagittarius, Jupiter/Saturn (plus Pluto) in Capricorn, and the Sun and Mercury cruising in Aquarius. There’s a level of confusion, and sometimes looking for meaning where there might not be any. That might be a curse, might be a joke, might be nothing. From several years of toying with this play, I have yet to find a suitable answer other than it’s just gibberish, designed to obfuscate the issues in the play. That’s all. So this week’s opening quote, played off against Scorpio? Might not mean anything at all. And that’s what you have to be careful about. Might not have any meaning, whatsoever —


Simple word: substitution. It can be used in a variety different ways, but this week’s Sagittarius stuff? This tends to be a subtle, sleight-of-hand substitution. Working on one problem, I discovered that another area required my attention, thereby substituting one problem for another. I was digging around in cupboard for an over-the-counter allergy thing. Cedar is a vile, invasive weed that launches pollen — like smoke — each January. Makes for a miserable existence, for some of us. If I am prepared, a combination of Eastern and Western medicines, both holistic and medical approaches, then I do just fine. But if I don’t do the right combination of oils and herbs, spices, and antihistamines? I get sickly and miserable. So I was digging in the cupboard for the “Cedar X” solution, a homeopathic thing, and I discovered that I had too many partial bottles of various vitamins. So I started pulling them all out, then shaking out the liner, then gradually putting them all back. I substituted one problem for another, as I was looking for my holistic cure, and I got organized instead. Only, now I can’t find what I was looking for, and then I forgot, and I missed my morning dose. See how substituting one problem for another doesn’t always work in our Sagittarius favor?


The very first expression that popped into my mind, looking at the charts for the next few days? Specifically, for Capricorn? “There is no honor among thieves.” What it means, to me, is that among a certain criminal element, there is no honor, no sense of loyalty, no reciprocity among comrades-in-arms, and no way to count on your fellows. Fellow crooks, is what is implies, but I hardly think that’s the real case. Still, as a term, it stands for the next few days, as there is a situation that requires a little bending of the rules. I didn’t say, “Break the rules,” just understand that a fluid and dynamic grasp of the laws of the land is helpful. Then, too, with Saturn currently in residence within Capricorn? One must hew to the highest standards and sometimes, “Cosmic Laws” surpass local ordinances. Doesn’t tend to hold up in a court of law, and in my own land, the local laws appear contrived and almost arbitrary as to what gets legislated. Which harkens back to the original supposition, that there is no honor among thieves. Two wrongs never make a right, but three left turns do. Combine that with no honor among thieves, my simple suggestion that if it is meant to be? It is up to Capricorn to accomplish this goal. Counting on other compatriots and compadres?

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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.