Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we talk to God. Hundreds of them! You could say we dabble in downsized deities who deserve devotion.
Today, in (dis)honor of St. Patrick's Day, we welcome a proud member of the Irish-Scottish-Welsh Celtic pantheon. Please give a wild, warm, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Manannan Mac Lir, awesome High God of Ye Olde Ancient Celts!
Anne: Righteous Manannan, I'm sorry I can't type that cool accent grave over the last "a" in your name. I'm not very computer literate.
Manannan Mac Lir: That's perfectly all right. Can I have another slice of your soda bread?
Anne: Take the whole loaf, oh forgotten one.
Mannanan Mac Lir: Not entirely forgotten, thank goodness. I've got my island...
Anne: Oh, yes, the Isle of Man. I'm sure it's fair as a maiden's smile.
Mannanan Mac Lir: How fine it is to talk to a daughter of bards with the bardic gift herself!
Anne (blushing): Pshaw. Ain't nuthin. But we're not here to talk about me. We're here to talk about you. How you got booted from your job even after you were willing to do it for free.
Mannanan Mac Lir: It's still hard for me to talk about. And just like Bill O'Reilly won't say Keith Olbermann's name, I refuse to speak the names of those two ignorant Christians who robbed me of my praise and worship team.
Anne: Those would be St. Patrick and St. Columba.
Mannanan Mac Lir: Egg-sucking dogs.
Anne: Tell us, o God of the waves and the high heavens. What happened?
Manannan Mac Lir: Well, as you know ... grrrrr ....
Anne: St. Patrick...
Mannanan Mac Lir: He's the one. Brought Christianity to Ireland. Before that, fair Erin was the domain of self and extended family. Some of my fellow deities took pay cuts and worked for the Christians. Queen Brigid the Bright was one. She settled for sainthood so she could continue to care for her peeps. Me, I steered clear of the Catholics and kept on doing my thing with the rank and file folk. Me and my faeries, of course.
Anne: Of course.
Manannan Mac Lir: Then along comes the other one ... grrrrr.....
Anne: St. Columba.
Manannan Mac Lir: Shiftless skunk.
Anne: What happened?
Manannan Mac Lir: Skunk broke his golden chalice and asked one of my people to take it to the smith. I met my follower on the path to the blacksmith shop. One little puff from my mouth was all it took to fix that chalice, plus some. You learn all this stuff in God School.
Anne: I have a reader who has been there. Go on.
Manannan Mac Lir: So, I sent the good fellow back with the repaired cup and a message: "what say you to the power of someone who does this? Does your pantheon doom me, or accord me a measure of respect?" Darned if that poor servant didn't slink back and tell me that .... grrrrrrrr
Anne: St. Columba.
Manannan Mac Lir: The very one. He told the servant that only a demon could do such work, and I'd better get to hell where I belonged. Worse than that, the Shiftless Skunk scared the poor servant so bad that the servant went to all his friends and told them not to take my help anymore, no matter how well-intentioned it seemed. Just imagine. My faeries and I were providing great weather for farmers, fair skies for sailors. We were helping people find stuff they'd lost and filling children's heads with beautiful old tales. All of a sudden I'm persona non grata.
Anne: A common fate for bored gods and goddesses. What did you do?
Manannan Mac Lir: I booted it for the islands off Scotland and England, where folks are just stubborn enough to believe in me through thick and thin. It's a living. Barely. But the climate is nice if you like moody seascapes, which I happen to enjoy.
Anne: We here at "The Gods Are Bored" pay you all glory, laud, and honor, Manannan Mac Lir! And don't you worry. People are starting to appreciate the fact that Ancient Ones such as yourself deserve more than you're getting.
Manannan Mac Lir: My faeries and I worked for free. Gratis. Still no dice from those ... grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Anne: So what color do you suggest we wear on March 17, we who recognize the wrong done to you and your pantheon?
Manannan Mac Lir: The tartan of your Clan. Barring that, Anne, I think the burgundy shirts you wear to your school are quite becoming on you.
Anne: That's the school uniform! If I wear that on a Saturday, my husband will pitch a fit! He's sick to death of burgundy! How about this powder pink Land's End sweatshirt? It bids fair to be a coldish day.
Manannan Mac Lir: A glorious hue. Is there anything my faeries and I can do for you?
Anne: Not a thing, honored one. Our motto here at "The Gods Are Bored" is simple: "Ask not what a god can do for you. Ask what you can do for a god." How about this: In your honor, I will not submit a reimbusement request to the East Coast Vulture Festival for the expensive buzzard costume I rented. The Nature Society of Wenonah will therefore have another hundred bucks to spend on their six miles of walking trails.
Manannan Mac Lir: You do me justice, daughter of ancient Scotland. I'll be hovering, should you need me.
Anne: So, friends, there you are. Another bored god, done in by a demanding "It's All About Me" deity and his followers. As for me and my house, we will not wear green.