StarIQ.com's Cosmic Correspondent Kim Rogers-Gallagher has been invited to the planets' secret hangout. She's the first astrologer to enter this starry domain, and reports regularly on her findings there.

Cosmic Café 45:
Saturn and Pluto Talk Politics with Jupiter and Venus

I sat at the bar with my pen poised, ready to take down Pluto's pronouncement. The lights in the Café blinked merrily—but the atmosphere was anything but light.

"Tomorrow night at 9:00 pm, Al Gore will concede the election," Pluto began, but before he could get another word out, Jupiter pounded the bar—hard.

"No! No way! I won't stand for it."

Uh, oh. I had seen Jupiter lose his temper before, and it hadn't been pretty. I reached around him and patted his back. Venus linked her arm through his, a perfect cosmic picture of the easy, comforting trine they were locked into that day.

"Unfortunately, Jupiter, you don't have anything to say about this," Saturn said.

Jupiter stood up, knocking his barstool over backward, and just about taking Venus and me with him. The Moon stood at the door to the Café's kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and carefully watching all parties concerned. Neptune disappeared—no surprise. She'd never liked confrontation.

"I what?" he said. "I don't have anything to say about this? Is that right?"

Pluto stood up, too. "That's right, Jupiter," he said. "Not this time."

Jupiter's face was bright red. If he'd been human, I would have been worried about his blood pressure.

Pluto continued. "It's time for a change, Jupiter. Mortals have to do that every now and then," he said. "You'd serve them all better by helping than by having a temper tantrum. Your job is incorporation, not segregation. Do you understand what I'm asking you?"

Jupiter folded his arms and listened—but his face was still flushed. The Café was silent for a moment. I scribbled a word or two, as I'd been commanded—but I knew I wouldn't be forgetting this evening anytime soon. "Yeah, I understand," he said. "You're asking me to get the mortals rallied behind a thief."

Venus and I glanced at each other and winced. Saturn wouldn't like that comment, guaranteed. Or the next one. "The guy's an idiot, Pluto. He can't speak! And you're telling me I've got to sit through another six months in Gemini, listening to him? I mean, I thought Quayle was bad—this guy's got him beat."

Saturn spoke quietly. "Jupiter, you can't take sides in this thing. It won't help. I'm not going to sit here and bash your candidate, regardless of what I think of him—and you shouldn't be bashing anyone either. There are no perfect humans. No matter who won this election, the opposing party would have been seen the same way. We all need to help bring them back together again, on the same side."

At that, Venus spoke—and amazingly, all the gods listened. "But what about the trees," she said, quietly, "and the animals. What's going to happen to them if we start drilling in their territory? Isn't our job to help all the living creatures on Earth? Not just the humans?"

Pluto answered. "No, Venus, we can't help the humans or the animals. Or hurt them. It's not in our hands. We don't run this planet—humans do. And they have free will, remember? How many times have you set up a couple you knew were perfect for each other, but one or the other of them refused to make changes so the relationship had a chance?"

"But it's not fair," she said, quietly. "It's just not fair." I could tell she was about to cry.

At that, Jupiter's mood seemed to soften. He put his arm around Venus, and rubbed her shoulders. "Shh, baby, it's okay."

"What am I going to tell Bill? I promised him I'd do everything I could," she said.

"You did, Venus, you did," Jupiter said. "That was you out there with me tonight handing out brochures, right? We may be the benefics, baby, but we can only do so much. And then," he sighed, "like Pluto said, it's out of our hands." She covered her face and began to weep. In a split second, the Moon in fast-moving Gemini was at her side.

"Okay, Pluto," Jupiter said. "So what do you want me to do?"

"What you do best," the dark god answered. "Bring them together. Incorporate them. Remind them that they're all Americans, citizens of the most powerful place on this planet. Help them to realize that nothing lasts forever—at least, not in its original form. Now, I know power is my department, and I'll help as much as I can. But you know how they feel about me."

"Yeah," Jupiter said, smiling at last, "I think it's the death thing, dude."

Pluto smiled. Dark humor was his favorite—and he was proud of the immensity of his job description. Even Venus grinned a little. "Okay, Pluto," Jupiter said. "You've made your point." He walked over to the dark pair and stuck out his big hand. Saturn took it first.

"You fought one hell of a battle, Jupiter."

"Yeah, you too, Saturn." Then he turned to Pluto.

"So will you put aside your personal feelings and help?" Pluto said.

"Yeah, sure, 'course I will," the large god answered. "Even if I don't like it. Okay?"

They, too, shook hands. "Done, then. Now I've got to get up to Washington to pass out some power." Pluto swallowed the remainder of his scotch and walked out the door, disappearing into the night.

Saturn stood. "I have things to oversee also." He marched out of the Café, leaving Jupiter standing alone at the bar, staring out the window. He was silent for a moment, then turned to Venus and me and said, "So how about those 49ers, huh?"

The tension broke, and all the planets laughed. Neptune reappeared behind the bar, a fresh pitcher of eggnog in her hand. I sighed and hugged Venus. Mercury snapped his fingers, and the jukebox began to play a Christmas song. "Let’s have a holiday smooch, beautiful," he said, winking at Venus.

She stood and embraced him. He dipped her in quite lavish fashion, and they kissed. We all applauded—and then Mars came in. "Mercury!" he said. "Step away from the lady, please."

Mercury helped Venus to her feet—quickly—and let go of her. He obviously didn’t want to mess with the jealous passion of the god of war—and since Mars was in Libra at the moment, he was primed to fight for his partner if need be. "Sure, guy," Mercury said. "Just ringing in the season, you know?"

Mars tossed him a meaningful glance, and extended his hand to Venus. "Come on, babe. It's time for a field trip." She went to him, and as they headed out the door arm in arm, I heard him say, "I know where they grow mistletoe, you know..."

Next Week: Mars Enters Scorpio—and the Plot Thickens