Horoscopes for 2.27.2020

God himself is up in arms,
When violence is offered to the church.

Archbishop of Canterbury in Marlowe's Edward II 1.2.40-1

Venus enters the tropical zodiac sign of Taurus Mar. 4, 2020 at 9:07 PM. Mercury retrograde back into Aquarius Mar. 4 at 5:45 AM.

Horoscopes for 2.27.2020

Pisces

Pisces
“Rub some dirt on it.” First time I encountered that kind of advice was, indeed, in a book, a timeless American classic. Wasn’t the exact terms used, but the sentiment was what I recalled. As we make our way along through this week’s heinous mess of a weekly look at what those wacky stars are doing?

Astrologically speaking, for Pisces? “Rub some dirt on it.”

I know that wasn’t the birthday message you wanted, and I seriously hope that this isn’t a life-threatening situation, but to a gentle Pisces, even a minor flesh wound can seem pretty traumatic. So? So “Rub some dirt on it.” In my years on the various roads as a journeyman astrology reader, I encountered a number of military places. El Paso and Southern New Mexico’s Ft. Bliss, Killeen’s Ft. Hood, San Anglo’s Air Force thing, and even the base in Austin, plus joint base, San Antonio. Lots of army guys. The military missive? “Rub some dirt on it.” Most of these are rough and tumble, battle-ready, harden men, a far cry from my understanding of Pisces, but for the time being? This week, all alone after your birthday thing? “Rub some dirt on it.”

Aries

Interestingly enough, the way I heard this? The quote is attributed to the great Wayne Gretzky — ice hockey. Ice hockey, in and of itself? That’s a topic I know precious little about. Guys, usually, big guys on razor sharp ice skates, fighting with long sticks, and apparently, no rules. Supposed to knock the puck into the goal, but that seems almost secondary to gratuitous violence on the ice. Anyway, the quote? And as it applies to this week’s Aries?

“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” The chance of ever seeing me on the ice, or even a field, with a hockey stick? Yeah, pretty sure that won’t ever happen — but the idea? It’s completely transferable to fishing: can’t catch fish without bait in the water. Take a shot, Aries, take a shot. “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” Or, for some of us, “You can’t catch a fish without bait in the water.”

Taurus

Some days it’s the big things in life, the major events, and some days? It’s the little stuff. Some days, we’re battling with dragons, and making sweeping gestures that are pronounced, symbolic, and grand — thinking in a big way. Other days, it’s the little stuff. If “god is in the details,” then this is a detail day wherein the odd gods of the galaxy are there to infect and inform us of our shortcomings. Part of this is Mercury in his current condition, and placement in the Taurus circle — to me, the astrology chart. But part of this is merely human nature, or, at the least, we can ascribe it to such.

The measure of a Taurus sense of humanity is how one decides to deal with exigent existential questions, the ideas that pop into the mind at three in the morning in a trailer park. This week, this energy is easiest answered with rolling over and going back to sleep — the questions will be there in the morning. Probably still unanswered, but some days, not having an answer is a good enough answer.

Gemini

The graphical display of data is now both an art and a science. How to display information is now a sub-heading all its own. The graphical user interface now commands college courses, and intricate studies to understand the basics of human behavior. There are a couple of simple guidelines, that are easy to follow, and this week’s Gemini needs “easy to follow” guidelines. Limit the number of options. A simple click here is all that is required, maybe two buttons, or even just two text links, and to honor the Gemini nature — the Twins — maybe just a binary set of buttons, like click here or here, but essentially, just a single choice. Not too many choices. There’s a certain paralysis by analysis, and as long we’re dealing with the Mercury Situation, too many choices do not help. Simple, single choice, or binary, but the clever guys in marketing, they once showed me how to have two different buttons, one red and one blue, and both buttons lead to the same destination. Funny, yeah, real funny. Simple, declarative decisions, and not too much binary, and when overwhelmed? Just start randomly hitting buttons to see what happens. Don’t confuse us with a bewildering array of choices. Too many Gemini choices? Can’t make a decisions.

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Cancer

The Women’s Shoe Department of a (high-end retail) store became a favorite example. True story. I was standing there in the women’s shoes, and the cute sales guy approached me, “How are we doing today?” He was perky, not terribly masculine, I think he had on some eyeliner, made his eyes pop, and he sparkled. Brightly. Not saying for sure, but one can guess. I looked at him with my best dejected scowl, “I’m male, straight, and standing in the women’s shoe dept., on a Saturday afternoon, after Valentine’s. How do you think I’m doing?” I looked back down at my phone. I got a gentle “OK,” as the poor sales guy backed away slowly. In truth, I was there willingly and of my own volition. She’s going to try on three pairs of shoes, at least, while I answer e-mail on my phone. The first pair is pretty, but not on sale, so that’s a no, and the second pair is the right style, but not the right color, and that’s a no, and then the third pair is the right style and the right color, but not the right size, and they don’t have her size in the back. Elapsed time? Maybe half an hour. Result? Super happy girlfriend, delighted I went shoe shopping with her, and thrilled to demonstrate that affection. My only investment was a little less than hour, and I did “work” some during that time. The hardest part of this kind of scenario? Looking at a pair of plexiglass, 6-inch heels and not asking, “Do people really wear these?” Or making obvious, and otherwise unwelcome comments. My investment has no monetary value, just a little less than an hour of my time. In return, I get fed, petted, loved on, and otherwise pampered — all night. Put in succinct terms like that? Take the win, my Cancer friend, take the win. Go “shoe shopping,” or whatever it is in the individual scenario.

The Leo

Buddy of mine is a raconteur. He tells tales, some of which, grow to improbable height. Due to his tie in Austin, though, I know he’s really been backstage with any number of rock-star caliber personalities. He’s got stories, some of which, are really true. However, he is also a native Texan, and he hews to our birthright as a teller of tall tales. Improbable fictions, as it were, some based on probable fictions. When he launches into one of his stories, I always listen for a certain telltale repetition of facts. When he iterates certain commentary, over and over, that tends to suggest it’s another one of his probable fictions. Then, too, there are certain verbal cues that give it away. Besides, one of the best parts about his narratives as he spins them up, one most important parts of telling a story like his? Based in truth. However, I’ve long learned, as soon as he starts his tale with the term, “True Story,” it probably isn’t. Might be based in factual episodes, but the outcome, and circumstances have all probably been altered. In his case, this is easy, I listen for certain verbal cues, and then, I know what’s going on, it is a tale that has been so modified from its original, that it might not have anything to do with the real world, other than be engaging and entertaining. As the mighty Leo listens this week? Pay attention to the verbal cues. Repetition, repetitive phrases, and recurrent themes?

“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

Virgo

As a single white male living in South Austin, I discovered that there was a reason why I was seriously, serially single, all those years. I have an innate sense, a way, I had a habit, either bad or good, depending, on saying the perfect thing at the worst time possible. It’s a skill-set, I suppose, to some. As I’ve aged, I’ve gotten better about what it is that I say and do. Or say. I’ve gotten to where I have to be a little guarded with my off-hand commentary, too. From years of mistakes, I’ve learned to watch what I say, well, at least some of the time. There are those who should suggest this is some kind of mental condition, but I never claimed my mental health was all that good. Didn’t start from the high road, so, no, can’t go there. But that’s not what this is about. If you ever encountered me, “back in the day,” good old Austin? You would know exactly what I’m talking about. I would like to think that my ability to say the worst thing at the best time was the stuff of legends. Maybe not. I tamped it down. As we look forward to this next week, in Virgo land? Know what you have to be extra-Virgo-guarded about? My innate ability to pick the best rejoinder to a commentary, and deliver that as the worst time possible. Maybe, just as an idea, and maybe just don’t say anything even though, yes, it would be funny.

Libra

While I have no power to relieve the frustration that Libra feels at the moment; I can enumerate the sources of that frustration. Does it help? Not really. But digging into some symbolism might. There’s a new idea percolating along, and except for that one, very special Libra, this isn’t the time to implement the new idea. Great idea. Lovely thought process that lead to it. And now isn’t the time to plug it in and see if it works. There’s that hesitant, “There’s something that I forgot to add to the mix on this one,” notion nodding around in your Libra brain, that idea that there is something left unfinished. Been around enough Libra people to know that something left unfinished doesn't always bother the Libra, but this week, it kind of does. Hence the frustration. Can’t get it across the finish line. Can’t get it out the door. Can’t quite get to the finished product stage. Final draft, in my example. The cure? Understand the symbols themselves. Most of this owes its prescience to the big players in Capricorn, and that causes the frustration, gentle, unsettling, irritability, something, that idea that the idea is somehow unfinished, and not ready for delivery. You’re right about that. Timing is what my astrology is good for, and before we Libras show, sell, or hit “print” and call it final? It needs one more thing.

Scorpio

An ear-worm is a — usually — musical notation that gets stuck in one’s head. Ear. Mind. One of those places. It could be a jingle from a decades-old ad. It could be disco hits from the early 80’s. It could be, always a favorite, Hair Metal from whatever that era was. As a local resident and avid golfer, at the time, Alice Cooper’s “School’s out for summer,” saw heavy rotation and airplay at the end of the school year, and then, his appearance was always welcomed, feted, when I lived in the Phoenix area. Saw hims several times for local celebrations, and yes, he would sing that one song.

While not classically Hair Metal, it is the perfect version of an ear-worm to drive home a Scorpio point. It gets stuck in your head. Having a jingle from long-dead product isn’t always bad, but that’s part of the Scorpio thought-process that cause this week’s loop. Getting on the ear-worm treadmill, I don’t know how to knock you off that treadmill, the proverbial mental hamster-wheel in the Scorpio brain that keeps spinning on that one thought, that one issue, or that one problem, or, and what I like, gets stuck humming that one song, over and over. As Mercury eventually slips back in Aquarius, this sets up a final little flip-kick to the situations, the Scorpio situations, and that little turn, with the addition of the ear-worm? Can make this miserable. Stuck on that wheel, going nowhere fast.

“Stuck in the middle with you...”

Sagittarius

Can’t hunt, can’t fish, this is depressing. So, if the truth be told, I’m really not a hunter at all. Don’t care to blast away at little animals out in the brush, although, in more than one neighborhood (Austin & San Antonio), there’s an overabundance of deer, but that’s not the issue. No, I’m not a hunter. Not morally opposed, just don’t do it. But it’s also too early to really fish the lakes for bass, or the coast for reds and specs.

Yes, I know my own advice, “A bad day fishing is better than a good day the office,” but that’s not exactly the situation, and now?

Not a particularly good time for either brand of fishing that I enjoy. Warmed up, got cold, warmed back up, cold nights, lakes haven’t turned, fish haven’t spawned yet. Spring break machinations have started, but not in earnest, not yet. Not bad, just not good. As a fire sign and astrologer? This is a time to pause, dig back into my old bag of “Mercury is Retrograde tricks,” and see what fits. In another month, think how good the coastal and lake fishing will be, just after the waters settle from Spring Break and its crush of people. Maybe this is a good time for a little solace and some repairs. I have that one fishing reel — haven’t used it in years, and I know it needs a drop of oil, and new fishing line strung on it. Good use of time. Rewind, re-string line on the reels.

Capricorn

My library defines who I am. Not really, as in a complete, metaphysical understandings of one’s own psyche, “stuff,” material possessions, do not define who we are. That being noted, upon entering a new domicile, my attention is first directed towards whatever books are on the shelf. That defines — in my mind — who and what a person is. During one of my more purgative phases, I was busy selling back books to the used book store (locally, Half Price Books) — and my eternal question, “What do these titles say about me?” One time, looking over a box of books, the person behind the counter looked at me, an appraising glance, “It’s more about what isn’t being brought back that tells about a person.”

She either batted her eyes, or leered, my understanding of some human interaction is not too clear. There is a certain kind of warmth that a shelf full of books imparts, but that’s not totally what this is about. This is about what we — what mighty Capricorn uses to define who we are. In my example of books, it’s not the throwaway bestsellers that define me; no, it is the worn, thumbed, underlined, and mangled-from-use books. There are a couple of astrology references, and then, there are some Roman writers from antiquity, that’s my current vogue, and previously, I used great minds from the last century, with a couple of those books still on hand, and still well-thumbed. So, when we’re looking at what defines us, this is a week for definitions, when we look at what defines our Capricorn selves? For me? It’s those books. No, not the long library shelf of pristine first editions, no, it’s the well-thumbed, working academic library.

Crap, I have a lot of Shakespeare books.

Aquarius

With the trailing edge of Mercury in Retrograde — into Aquarius? There’s a kind of pacing required, and not one that I’m sure I can adequately convey. It’s like, watch a made-for-TV show, and there seems to be a certain kind of pacing, either 21 minutes and 42 seconds, or around 42 minutes, with actions and plot peaks, valleys, conflict, and last act resolutions, with an almost predictable pacing. It’s a formula, and over the last decades, each network has it worked into a fine science — how to manipulate the viewer. Not really new stuff. Then, a few years in the recent past, streaming services, mostly Amazon and Netflix come to mind, started doing series. First, this changed as the length a “half-hour” sitcom runs closer to 25 minutes, on a streaming service, and the last time I checked, an hour long drama ran 55 minutes. While watching one of the hour-long dramas, I realized that the pacing was entirely different, no commercial breaks, no tempo set to that, and the rhythm of the settings were different. Not bad, just a different pace. This week, with the subtle shift of Mercury and its associated implications? Different pacing for Aquarius — just like the difference between services, and how the shows have their own, internal rhythms. Not bad. Not good. Just different.

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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.

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