on Earth from fast approaching total pollution, because of the ever-growing population, and the resulting additional tons of sewage spilled into our lakes, rivers, streams and oceans each year.  As he (or she) warms to the subject, the Aquarian will expound the theory that the government, should pass a law requiring every home to use a waterless toilet, allowing the cost to be deducted from the sum of money owed to the IRS that year by each person who installs one to replace the current polluting and water-wasting flush toilet plumbing.  "Just think!" exclaims Aquarius, "there's absolutely no odor, and the only waste to be disposed off once a year for a family of six is what would amount to a coffee can of ashes (also with no odor) which can be sprinkled on the grass or the garden to make everything grow better and faster!"  (See page 1183 for manufacturer's address.) 

Now, Libra would very much like to espouse anything that guarantees keeping the ecological 'balance,' but the detailing of anything so scatological concerning the indelicate process of elimination is likely to cause furious blushing, and an expression of extreme distaste, to pass across those beautiful and even Libran features. 

"okay, okay," shrugs Aquarius angrily, "if you'd rather go on drinking and bathing in water polluted by other people's body wastes, and insure that your grandchildren, and maybe even yourself and your own children, won't have a drop of pure water to drink in a decade or two, keep flushing your damned toilet, and spraying your bathroom with artificial carnation scents in aerosol cans that are destroying the ozone layer around the Earth, but just remember, you were warned.  It's peat moss, compost and manure that are going to save this planet, not perfumed luxury, bubble baths and all your fancy art and music." 

Out stalks the Water Bearer in a huff, leaving Libra behind to lie down and recuperate from the ugliness of it all, in a state of near nervous collapse from the ordeal of mentally weighing the trays marked:  Survival - and Judgment Day. 

A few minutes later, the Aquarian suddenly returns, shouts loudly, "I SAID MANURE!" then slams the door and leaves again.  Libra's dimples collapse, in a state of shock.  That's how Aquarius wins an argument. 

Libra's seesaw indecision will cause Aquarius to become rattled, just as the Uranus tendency of Aquarius to pull a complete turnabout, once a decision has already been made (Libra
never does that), will drive the Libra man or woman squirrels.  "Make up your mind!" yells Aquarius. 

"Well, at least, I don't change my mind, once it's made up, the way you're always doing," replies Libra defensively, but softly. 

"How would you know?" retorts Aquarius.  "You've never made a decision in your life." 

Libra smiles radiantly.  The room lights up with a thousand candles, a million Suns.  "I made the decision to be your friend, didn't I?  And I've never regretted it.  Other people may think you're crazy, but I think you're a genius.  Did I tell you I ordered a waterless toilet?" 

Aquarius is shamed into silence.  Libra smiles again, dimples winking on and off.  "Gee, I'm sorry," finally mumbles the contrite Water Bearer.  "Sometimes I say the nuttiest things.  I really don't know what I'd do without you."  (And that's how Libra wins arguments.)  It requires study. 

you want to call the shots?  all right, jump on your horse
and I'll walk three respectful steps behind… like a proper squaw
you decide the course and byways our stream of madness shall run
how it bends and wanders… and where it flows
into the land-of-the-singing-waters
I'll chew my moccasins, and string my wampum
in the pale, new Moon, beside my wickiup
and wait for your bird call, tom-tom beat or smoke puff

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