Horoscopes for 4.16.2020

  • “And kiss me Kate, we will be married a’ Sunday.”
    • The Taming of the Shrew (2.1.315)

    Horoscopes for 4.16.2020

    New Moon in Taurus loosely conjunct Uranus April 22, 2020.


    Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew is possibly one of the most vile, sexist pieces ever written. Even funnier considering there’s substantial evidence to suggest the real Shakespeare author was a woman. I was listening to some Shakespeare material and the presenter suggested that Kate is quite disingenuous, possibly sarcastic, as she is merely tolerating the suitor to get her way. “She wins by humoring this idiot who marries her,” was the suggestion. I looked at my date, as I was discussing finer points of the scholarship, authorship notwithstanding, “You think some strong woman would just put up with an idiot boyfriend so she could get what she wants from him?” “Why Kramer, whatever do you mean? You’re always so much smarter than me.” Even I have to roll my eyes at that retort. I wonder, has this one just been putting up with me because she thinks I’m occasionally cute? Or useful? “Oh no, honey, I would never treat you like that.” Happy Taurus birthday, and enjoy the humor, where you find it, but with the planets where they are? That pressure on Uranus? Are we being humored?

    “An intelligent person wouldn’t have to ask that question, Kramer…”


    Venus and Mars are making nice, but we talked about that, right? The two major hurtles, for Gemini? Looks like that pesky Taurus Sun and the phase of the moon, more than anything else. None of this really bad, just uncomfortable, for Gemini, and that Mars/Venus thing should be smoothing over the rough spots.

    “Should be,” and that’s one of those tricky phrases I hate to employ. There’s always something going on that’s bound to undermine, Gemini progress. Pick a new direction and be aware that it might change, again, in a few days. But try a new solution to that old problem. New tact. Or, in sailing terms, new tack.


    As an older male, I like this kind of action, but as a Cancer, Moon Child-compliant person, I’m less enthused. This is the quintessential “Old guy” syndrome. It works for me, because, apparently, I’m now one of those old guys. However, for a sweet and delicate Moon Child? While it is certainly appealing at the time? Like, that time is now, while it might be appealing this next few days, there’s always longer-term ramifications to consider. While this is certainly appealing at the time? Longer-term influences will outweigh this decision, and it breaks my old guy heart, but yeah, no. Think this through, the age difference — at this moment? That age difference is an asset, but in a few weeks, maybe a few months, and for one of you, about two years? That difference will be too much to bear. Won’t be fun anymore. Won’t be good, and the best parts will be gone. Friends last much longer.

    “You kids, get off my lawn!”

    The Leo

    Buddy of mine has a rule of thumb, “If borrowing an item for the third time, just buy one.” While I tend to associate this with The Leo as the way I’d see it and I hear The Leo saying it? When I watched the progression of the moon from full to less full? Sun in Aries, yet? And Mars in Aquarius, just now, opposing The Leo? It’s like you’re a neighbor, borrowing particular tool for the third, fourth time. Might be time to consider buying one for yourself. I don’t mind loaning out gardening tools, but when it’s every other weekend, and I’m usually not even here much on the weekends, so, it’s not really a problem, but think about it. This is less about me, and a neighbor who borrowed a ladder last week, but this is about The Leo — think: you keep borrowing a piece of equipment, wouldn’t it be easier to just buy your own?


    Watching, the one afternoon, maybe a month ago, a guy came through one of the storefronts I’m associated with, perhaps I was in the grocery store, I don’t recall, but I noticed that the guy was wearing “cook’s clothes.” Made me pause and think. For years, I’ve mentioned in my next life, I’m coming back as some one who can wear scrubs to work. Like wearing pajama, only better. The kitchen-wear looked equally comfortable, and equally light, easy to maintain, and just as casual. Dressy but casual. Aggressively casual. I like that idea. The cook-wear was a little bit more dressy than the plain scrubs I tend to see the most. The scrubs are all aquamarine, teal in color and tend to have a hospital name stenciled someplace. The army base here has a cool deal, “BAMC Scrubs are not allowed off base.” Have to change into and out of the scrubs when coming or going. This is about appearances and small upgrade to the Virgo arrangement. From scrubs, maybe with hospital name on them, to cook’s clothes. Sensible shoes, baggy, loose fitting pants, and an elegant, yet simple top that is useful. Might have — it’s a Virgo thing — pockets on the sleeves for thermometers, knives, and other instruments — Virgo tools — at hand. Yes, it’s an upgrade from scrubs to a slightly more formal look, but let’s be reseasonbable, this is still all about Virgo comfort.

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    Alamo Drafthouse, there’s one near me. I like the place. Best place, in my own opinion, to see a movie, but I like the food, and I’m fan from way back in the day. Used to walk over from a trailer park in South Austin to the original Drafthouse, when it was upstairs over a salsa bar. Monday nights used to be a free movie of dubious quality and get there early enough, there was a couch in the back. That was then, this is now. In Libra? That old, Austin funk has been exported and turned into a giant chain, spanning the countryside, and I still like the local one, here, pretty good place — when we can go back. A month or so back in for a usual weekend matinee? Not being too hungry, but it was warm outside, so I asked for a signature Vanilla Shake. I don’t really, used to be Amy’s Ice Cream, not sure what the deal was, but the other afternoon? Serving person came back a few minutes later while the pre-show show was unfolding, and sometimes, that’s the best part of the movie. Anyway, “Shake machine’s broken.” I commented to my date that the good lord was telling me it was time to drink more water. So was this conspiracy? Was this a message from the heavens? Or was this just an accident wherein the local kitchen crew didn’t want to make a milkshake for whatever reason? I don’t know, but when this happens, to this week’s Libra? Take it as a sign from the heavens, “Yeah, I’m fine with water.” That’s like, “I just want to Netflix and chill, for about a month or two.”


    I stumbled — allegorically — shelter-in-place, across a decade-old list of an idea for an article, like, “12 things to do in Texas.” Off that list, maybe the first 6 or 8 items still stand as applicable ideas. The list itself possibly goes back further in time, and the idea, listicles were popular once, and I did offer a few suggestions that might seem off the beaten path, but so much has changed. The Millennial Milieu demands more authentic, hands-on experiences, which, in and along with what I’ve done for these many, long years, happens to coincide with that target. I like the off-beat, weird, funky, out-of-the-way, experiences that are far more interesting, and quite possibly, at little bit outside of the comfort zone. Works for me. That list, I just erased it, as I can recite, or I’ve written in a web journal someplace, or included in a horoscope, all those experiences. What this means for Scorpio? Review, revise and then figure, “We’ve covered this before, right?” Right?


    In most diners and restaurants, the coffee that comes out of the orange-spouted coffee pots? It’s supposed to be “decaf,” which in my family, is alternatively known as “why bother” coffee. Anymore, though, most of the diners and dives I’ve been in, the notion of “decaf” is merely that, a notion. I’ve watched as orange-ringed coffee pots and regular coffee pots are used interchangeably. The orange markings for decaf started with a brand now known as the root Samoa sans caffeine, or “Samoa Sans,” or, eventually, it was “Sanka.” That’s the source for the orange color for decaf. Some of us, that should be warning label, too. As I rotated the planets on their proscribed orbits and fleshed out what this week looks like, in Sagittarius, I kept thinking about a prior comment, “Thought about cutting down on the caffeine?” One of the cruel tricks in life? Replace regular coffee with decaf. Or replace decaf with regular coffee. There’s a dichotomy as this week unfolds in Sagittarius — either someone snuck decaf into the regular coffee, or the reverse. Neither one has a happy ending, but at least, now, we’re aware of the source, it’s not really the coffee, it’s the planets. “Here, would you like another cup of coffee?”


    Chuy’s is national chain that was born almost next door to a certain trailer park in old South Austin, Barton Springs Road. It became famous for presidential daughters with behavioral issues, and plates of fresh TexMex that are, still, “As big as your face!” I was in one of the chain’s local locations, splitting a dinner plate with a date, and I looked over at a table full of “Yoga moms,” and snickered. Three women, in yoga pants with yoga hair, and the baggy sweater tops? All fresh from the yoga class around the corner, and all three of them had at least two large margaritas in front of them. There were on a second or third basket of chips, the tequila was taking effect, as they were getting louder and louder, and each of them had a plate of the signature dishes, mostly consumed, in front of them.

    In my mind, the yoga efforts of a whole week are rendered null and void by one happy hour at Chuy’s. But that could be me, just observing. First and third weekends, in olden times, usually meant the kids were with the dads. What struck me as universally amusing, the yoga chic capped with the happy hour fare at Chuy’s. I have plenty of tales about the original Chuy’s, back in old Austin. But this was different. Food hasn’t changed. I’m too old to eat there with any frequency, much less drink there. But their caloric intake, is tequila any part of a yoga diet? Or am I seeing this incorrectly? Maybe an hour of hot yoga does offset the happy hour sins. How does Capricorn balance this?


    Perhaps one of my worst traits, a sign of outward excitement? I’ll tend to finish other people’s sentences. “So what I was going to say,” said the other person, and I jump it, “yes, you were going to say YES!” “No, what I was going to say was,” and we interrupted again, “Yes!” “No, what I was going to say was,” and there’s always that third iteration, “I know you were going to say YES!” Followed with me doing a fist pump in the air, “Yes!” “No, what I said was, ‘no,’ like, not even.” I was off, in this example, and it’s important because you’ll recognize your own, Aquarius self, getting all excited and getting all up in their faces, and leaping, not jumping, leaping to put phrases in the mouths of others, phrases, I might add, that might not be there. There’s a certain haste, a certain ability to move faster, leap further, but therein is the problem, too, as your Aquarius self will see answers that we want rather than what’s really there. Or, back to my example, of the fervent, “Say YES?” What this week’s stars spell out is that there is a certain amount of time required for other people to arrive at the correct answer, even though, in our heart, we know thart the Aquarius answer is correct? Have to be more patient than usual because it seems like it’s taking everyone else — everyone not Aquarius — twice as long to arrive at the correct conclusion. Two messages: patience, and no finishing other people’s sentences.


    There are days when the whims and desire of the public just go too far. “We demand,” is the first, rather typical, excoriating exhortation to come along. As soon as your gentle Pisces self hears that phrase? Time to leave. Even funnier if it’s your own side, or this comes out of your Pisces mouth, “We demand!” Still, we all have trigger expressions, terms that set us off, and phrases that seem to have deep links in our collected Pisces psyche.

    This week’s watchword, what to avoid, what to understand, what to steer clear of? “We demand.” Love me my Pisces friends — and family — but that temptation to give into whatever comes along? Maybe this isn’t the best time to to let yourself get swept away with the tide of popular culture’s momentum. Just because, “Everyone’s doing it,” that doesn’t make it right for yourself. The first key phrase to watch for, “We demand!” They can demand all they want, there is no need for your Pisces self to acquiesce to those supposed demands. The simple term, “no” is your friend today.


    One of the definitions of a “classic” is how well a piece of literature, thinking of either a book or a movie, stands up over time. Some of the material I read and otherwise consume is merely meant for the moment. But then, I was rereading what I thought was “fluff,” maybe a decade after its publication, and, to me, the material was every bit as cogent, insightful, and applicable to understanding human behavior, now. I was thinking, “This is a classic.”

    I’m not sure that the general public will agree with me, but the one book, in fact, that author’s canon of work, wonderfully strewn with nuggets of insight, snark, sarcasm, satire, and brilliance, deftly woven throughout. With the influences this week promises for Aries? What is a classic to your own, Aries self that no one else might save as such? Piece of art, a book, some tale with wonderfully wrought characters, or even an old movie, whatever works. “Cult classic” might be the best term we’re looking for, especially in terms of a movie. With electronic distribution so common, hits from our collective past are usually available, sometimes, for free. Still this is about what fits that definition of a “classic” to your Aries self, not anyone else’s definition. Have to be willing to set your own rules, you know.

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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.

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