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 Special Edition:
Election Night at the Café

As I cruised by the Café on my way home from voting, I noticed that the lights were on—all of them. In fact, the place was so brightly lit, I could swear the planets were having a party. I pulled over, parked and opened the door to the Café. As I closed the door behind me, I saw my Uncle Jupiter seated at a table on the left, and Saturn seated at a table on the right. On the wall above Jupiter’s table hung a huge "Gore-Lieberman" banner.

Well, that certainly made sense.

He spotted me and jumped up. "Hey, babe! Over here!" He ran over, picked me right up off my feet and hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe. Ah, well. Such was the love of the King of Excess. He was obviously quite excited about something. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward his table. "I've got somebody here I want you to meet, babe." I stumbled along behind him, trying to keep up.

There was confetti everywhere in this corner of the Café—on the floor, the table and in the hair of the two figures seated there. Venus was one of them, and she was dressed rather unconventionally—to say the least—in a short, tight mini-dress that looked as if it had been made of an American flag. This obviously wasn't the elegant, charming Venus I'd met in the past. This was, okay, a "gaudy" Venus. I guessed she was wearing her Sagittarius outfit, a bit over-the-top, but nonetheless perfect for election night. But she was still gorgeous. She grinned, waved and elbowed the man sitting next to her. As he turned away from the television, I stopped in my tracks and let go of Jupiter's hand.

My God. It was President Bill Clinton.

A pitcher of beer and a half-eaten cheeseburger sat on the table in front of him. He was wearing sweat-pants and a t-shirt. On the back of his shirt, in tiny black letters, was the phrase, “It's not just for breakfast any more.” When he stood up, I saw the word “BEER” on the front. I couldn't speak. I just stood there.

Jupiter laughed loudly, then put his arm around my shoulder. "This is Bill, honey. Bill, Kim. Kim, Bill."

I tried not to think about the fact that I was standing face to face with the current President of the United States. I shook his hand and smiled, but I still couldn't speak.

Clinton shook my hand. "Well. It's certainly nice to meet you…" he said, and took a nice, long glance that covered me from my shoes to my neck. I blushed, and looked away.

"Same here, Mr. President," I said. "Really. It's really nice to meet you." He sat back down and reached for his cheeseburger as Venus moved her chair closer to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, leaving a set of bright red lips behind. Another set. She was obviously quite fond of him. I glanced over at the other corner of the bar, and realized Saturn also had company. He saw me, and nodded—slightly.

Jupiter interrupted my thoughts. "What are you drinkin', babe?" he asked.

"Um, just a light beer," I said.

He got up and went over to Neptune, behind the bar in her long, flowing pink gown.

Jupiter came back, sat down next to me and handed me my beer, and a shot of tequila. "Here, babe, we're celebratin'." He whispered in my ear, "Boy, he sure knows how to have a good time, doesn't he?" as he gestured at Saturn.

I took the shot, and whispered in his ear. "Who's he got over there with him?"

"Guess," Jupiter answered, taking a long pull on his own beer. "And the first two don't count."

I peered around Jupiter, trying to see the face of the man sitting next to Saturn. It was George Bush—George senior.

That, too, made sense.

I returned my attention to Jupiter, trying to keep my voice down. "So you said you were celebrating? Really? Do you think Gore's got it?"

"Absolutely," Jupiter answered. "Absolutely. But it's definitely gonna be tight, babe. Real tight. And we ain't expectin' to hear anything until late."

I sipped my beer. "Why not until late?"

He leaned close and tapped on the face of his watch. It was 9:04 pm, Eastern time. "Well, the Moon just went void-of-course, and you know things get confusing when she's nappin' like that. And Mercury's gonna be retrograde until 9:26. Then he finally gets his ass in gear and turns direct. I'm thinkin' that's when we're gonna get some news. "

"The results?" I asked.

"Well, yeah," he said, "but maybe not the right results. I'm thinkin' somethin's gonna get fouled up here. Maybe it'll be so tight they'll have to do a recount. Maybe my buds in the media will get so excited about scooping each other that one of 'em will announce the wrong winner. Maybe it'll actually go to the College. I don't know exactly what it is, but I got a feelin', you know? Just a feelin'." He took another long swig of beer. "Hey, call me crazy," he said, then raised his voice, looked over at Saturn and finished, "but I think Big Al's the man. And here's to him." He toasted Saturn and the television in front of him, then finished his beer.

Suddenly, silently, Neptune was there. She reached around me, took Jupiter's empty beer, replaced it with a full one and said, "Oh, I'd just love to see Ralph get in. But then," she sighed, "I do have a way of picking the underdogs, don't I?"

Jupiter put his arm around her waist. "Your heart's in the right place, gorgeous. That's what counts. But," and he raised his voice again, even louder, "Big Al's the man! He's The Man!" Clinton raised his beer mug to Jupiter's, and they toasted.

From the other side of the room, I saw Saturn beckoning to me. "Go ahead, honey," Jupiter said.

I approached Saturn cautiously. The broken ankle he'd given me after our last encounter had just barely healed, and I didn't want another one.

"I'd like you to meet the greatest president in the history of your country," Saturn said. "The man who taught his son the virtue of compassionate conservatism." George Sr. stood and extended his hand. I reached over to shake it, just as the door opened behind me.

I saw Venus glance over her shoulder, then at Jupiter and say, "Oh, here we go."

Jupiter made a face and sighed. He tapped Clinton on the arm. "Don't look, Bill. You don't want to see this."

Saturn called out, "Starr! Ken Starr! Over here!" He stood up, his hand extended.

"Excuse me," I said. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Bush." I walked back to the table on the left. Starr was carrying a pile of files and a couple of yellow legal pads. I had no idea who he was investigating at this point, but if it happened to be me, I didn't want to be around for the report card.

"That's it." I said to Jupiter. I drank my shot, finished my beer and kissed his cheek. "I'm outta here."

"Say congratulations to Bill before you go, honey! Cuz' Big Al's the man!"

"No!" Saturn said, from the opposite corner of the Café. "Shake George's hand. His son is about to become the next president."

I had no idea what to do. Was Jupiter being overly optimistic, or was the opinion of the God of Higher Knowledge the only one to believe? Or was Saturn, the God of Reality, right? One thing was for sure—I believed it would be a late result. Mercury was nowhere to be seen.

I waved to all parties concerned—if you'll pardon the pun—and just about ran back to my car.

I loved the Café and all his inhabitants—even Saturn—but I thought I'd watch the results at home.

Better safe than sorry.

Read the entire Cosmic Café Saga.
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