Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Our search for scientific evidence and religious truth takes us down lively alleyways that haven't been traveled in a long time!
First, a personal thank you to my reader Athana, who suggests I take up Ebay as a replacement for my lost goat judge income. That occurred to me too! I've been combing my house for stuff to list. So far I've compiled the following exciting stockpile:
1. A hamster that bites.
2. The cat that traumatizes the hamster.
3. One copy, Sensible Goat Breeding and Maintenance.
4. An oversized Tigger stuffed animal that leaps out and trips me just like the one in the movies.
5. Beanie babies that have been played with until they're all scuffed up and dirty.
6. Back issues of the National Enquirer.
7. A well-worn t-shirt for the West Virginia Mountain Bike Classic.
A promising lot, don't you think?
Seriously, Athana, thanks for the advice. I do have some items that I hope will bring in enough to produce a little nest egg for Christmas.
Today I'm at the library again, typing furiously and watching for other customers who want this machine. I've been asked by a bored god to make a statement.
STATEMENT FROM POSEIDON
Hello, I am the formerly powerful god Poseidon. You may know me as Triton or Neptune. Or you may have read The Odyssey. If you've done that, you know I used to be taken seriously.
At one time I crafted up nasty storms to blow ships off course. But since I got downsized, I've been living quietly in Atlantis. My days consist of counting the bubbles that ooze from a volcanic vent.
You may have noticed that Atlantic hurricanes are increasing in number and intensity. If I was still in charge, you might even be offering sacrifices to me to get them to stop.
Guess what, clueless moderns? The hurricanes are your fault, not mine.
We're sweltering here in Atlantis, and it's not from the volcanic vents. The whole earth is steaming up. And that's gonna get you some serious action in the hurricane department.
Who would know oceanic storms better than myself?
How to prevent hurricanes, typhoons, and tsunamis? Can't be done. Couldn't be done in the days when people prayed to me.
Still, you moderns could turn the thermostat down a little by burning less of that nasty coal and oil. A cold ocean is a happy ocean, if you know what I mean.
One last thing while I have the floor. Why the heck did the early Christians destroy all my nice temples and the statues of me? It's tough enough to survive on unemployment. But to crush all that nice art work? Bad form.
Thank goodnes for Walt Disney. He did me up swell in "The Little Mermaid." I even had a sweet little crab like that for a companion, but recently he fell afoul of a crab trap and wound up cooked and clubbed in a dockside restaurant outside Baltimore.
Okay, to recap. Don't blame me for the hurricanes. They thrive on heat, and you moderns are feeding them to the point of bloat.
(FORMER) GOD OF THE DEEP