My Fifteen Seconds of Fame

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," animated animism, totem template, vulture Valhalla! If you yearn to dress like a sacred animal or bird and dance madly in a warm bath of light, you are not alone. Have some leftover delicacies from the East Coast Vulture Festival 2007, and let a nearly-martyred missionary tell you how to suffer for your faith.

Catching my legions and legions of readers up on previous posts:

1. Anne agrees to be buzzard mascot for the East Coast Vulture Festival, March 3, 2007. Anne sees this as a means by which to witness to the greatness of the turkey vulture, better known by its Latin name Golden Purifier.

2. Anne orders a rental vulture mascot costume from a company in Akron, Ohio.

3. Anne fusses and frets over whether the company will actually send the costume in time.

4. The company sends the costume in time, but Anne has the flu.

5. The costume looks like a vulture but feels like the kind of armor a well-heeled member of William Wallace's infantry might have found desirable.

6. The breathing hole in the costume is too small and clogged with black paint.

7. Anne has the flu.

8. Anne makes a fateful decision: One must suffer along the winding road to Vulture Valhalla. Anne appears at the East Coast Vulture Festival in the mascot gear and leads the shamanic vulture dance.

9. That was yesterday. Now it's morning after, and Anne feels like one of those old-time missionaries, returned from a long posting in deepest Africa, gaunt and riddled with every sort of exotic wasting illness known to humankind.

It was worth it.

Long will I cherish the memories of the hugs and kisses from the cute little kids at the festival, the respect of my newfound cadre of buzzard-besotten peers, the grudging admiration of my noxious tween, and yes ... (wiping tears) the sight of a rehabilitated turkey vulture, released from a cat carrier back into the wild from whence it came.

I'd lay odds that you could poll every billionaire on the planet and you wouldn't find one who would say he or she had a better March 3, 2007 than I did. The fact that I can't swallow today is a mere trifle.

Here is the best part.

Remember how Andy Warhol said that in the future, everyone would be famous for fifteen minutes? I tend to agree, but I think that you had better be picky about how you spend your fifteen minutes of fame. You don't want to be the guy arrested for running out of the stands at Yankee Stadium to dump his mama's ashes where Lou Gehrig used to stand.

I got my fifteen seconds of fame today, and damned proud I am of how I achieved it.

Turned on Philadelphia's Action News this morning for a weather report, and doggoned if they didn't have a 15-second spot about the Vulture Festival. They showed the nature lady releasing the wild vulture. And they showed me, watching at the front of the crowd.

Of course you can't see me, because I'm swathed in 100 pounds of vulture costume, turning blue for lack of oxygen.

But what does that matter? Hoo hah! I'm on T.V.! Famous for the thing I love the most!

I guess by my age it's far too late to pursue a normal existence.

There's a serious lesson to be learned from all this East Coast Vulture Festival stuff. First, if you're open-minded and a situation arises (such as a vulture infestation in your borough), you'll decide to view the nuance as an opportunity, not a menace. Then, just as a joke, you'll see if you can make a few bucks off your pesky problem. You get a few friends together, delegate some authority, and voila! A clear profit of $4000 in two years for the pet nature projects you want to endorse in your community!

Pictures of the event will be posted as they become available.

In Vultures We Trust,

ANNE JOHNSON