Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we feel it takes a village of gods and goddesses! Well, maybe it could take a family too, if it was a nice nuclear family, with a daddy god and a mommy goddess, and some sibling gods and goddesses. Yes, that might work.
The Johnson family will this week embark on its annual Family Values Vacation, where emphasis is placed upon such pagan pursuits as kayaking in search of water birds, visiting wildlife refuges, and meditating on the Chesapeake sunset. This will be the sixth year, I think, that we have spent our Family Values Vacation in the same location.
That would be St. Michaels, Maryland.
Alas, we already have a guaranteed reservation. If we didn't, we wouldn't be going.
Why? You ask. This looks like an absolutely charming little Chesapeake town, laden to the plimsol line with steamed crabs and frosty mugs of beer!
Yes. You would be right about that. The Johnson family has dumped thousands of tourist dollars into the St. Michaels economy.
That is about to end.
Word comes to "The Gods Are Bored" that both Donald ("Duck") Rumsfeld and Dick ("Quail Killer") Cheney have bought posh little vacation homes in that Zip Code.
Actually there's nothing posh or little about the Rummy/Cheney digs. One, called "Mount Misery," is an antebellum plantation where masters sent recalcitrant slaves for "behavior modification."
Isn't it strange how history repeats itself?
To make a long post short, we at "The Gods Are Bored" realize that we have a finite amount of tourist dollars in our coffers (less every year). To be brutally bigoted and frank, we no longer like the company we must keep in St. Michaels. Who wants to run into Dick Cheney and his quail gun on the brief Family Values Vacation?
We don't associate with those kind.
We at "The Gods Are Bored" pride ourselves on our big, broad, flexible outlook. Heck, we try to be as tolerant as the Chesapeake Bay is wide! But St. Michaels doesn't need our money, clearly. The Cheneys and the Rummys can spend their money there. And St. Michaels will make out better for it, we're sure.
Next year we think we'll enroll in summer school. We've found a good one in Hoopeston, Illinois.
To Donnie and The Killer: We, the pagan Johnson Family, do not hunt or fish. So you run no risk from us, unless you get stuck in a crab trap. And that would be your fault, not ours.
THE MERLIN OF WHERE THE TOURIST DOLLARS OUGHT TO BE SPENT