Saturday, June 30, 2007

The Polyphonic Spree: A Druid Tabernacle Choir

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," riding out a bumpy Mercury retrograde! All good faeries on deck! Full speed ahead!

Last night my daughter The Heir and I went to a rock concert. Except when you think of rock concerts you don't exactly think of Druid happenings. Which is what it really turned out to be.

The Heir is notable for her extremely eclectic taste in modern music. Her tastes are so extraordinary that she can't drag her friends to see the bands she wants to see. And that's great, because she drags moi, and that makes me feel like I'm vibrant and young!

Last night's band was The Polyphonic Spree. Their latest CD is called The Fragile Army.

Heir and I each paid $23 plus tax to see The Polyphonic Spree. In all my life I've never had so much fun for such a modest fee. Not even on the night the 1979 Baltimore Orioles clinched the AL Pennant.

During their first frantic and well-received set, the band wore identical navy blue Red Cross uniforms. They performed in this attire for over an hour. Then, coaxing a litany from their well-behavied Philly audience, namely:

All in good time
Raise our voices

They left the stage one by one while we continued to chant. And cheer.

Puck was along for the concert, and when he heard this chant, he charged off to alert the bored gods. And all in good time too, because this extraordinary band came strolling through the audience dressed like this...

And led us in a round of "Awens!"

After that I couldn't keep Puck around my neck like a good little faerie. He wanted to fly above the crowd, so I let him.

The bored gods quit their game of hopscotch and came flooding into the concert hall, where they just became part of the happy mayhem.

I'm in a small Druid grove, and we always chant our Awens. All 12 of us, if we get that many. I've wondered for awhile what the chant would sound like coming from 100 or 1000 voices. It draws down cascades of positive energy!

So, with much excitement, we at "The Gods Are Bored" choose The Polyphonic Spree as our official band (actually, orchestra with choir). This choice is endorsed by the Celtic pantheon, because even though they have their traditional music, they like to feel up-to-date.

Awen. Awen. Awen.

Friday, June 29, 2007

All's Well, It's Just Hell: Navel Gazing

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," navigating between a rock and a hard place and being buffetted by both! Yo, Odysseus! How'd you do it, dawg?

I once saw this tear-jerking Christmas special about a little boy in the ghetto who started feeding a stray cat secretly. His mom said they couldn't have a cat in their apartment. So the kid develops this sweet relationship with the cat, and what do you think happens? Cat gets flattened by a semi.

Then the kid can't cry about it because his mom told him not to feed the cat in the first place.

It's kind of the same thing when your beloved first born wrecks your beloved bumper-sticker-plastered jalopy. Can't take on too hard about the car that's enshrined in your heart, because of course the daughter is enshrined even deeper.

But damn, my dear little car!

This was, I'm sure, the only car I'll ever have that I chose entirely by myself. I got her from a church lady who'd used her solely to commute to work and back (about 12 miles a day). The car was an economy Ford, immaculately maintained, with no deep secrets buried under the hood. Because she was old, she didn't mind liberal embellishment with bumper stickers.

Say what you want about American cars, but I drove my Ford five years with just routine maintenance. Pretty solid for a $3000 investment.

For my own fading memory, I hereby list "Trusty's" bumper sticker collection, because the bored gods know that any replacement auto (chosen with Mr. Johnson's emphatic feedback) will be too classy for such stuff.


Ford 1994 Escort hatchback LX
65,329 miles

Interior: gray fabric

Exterior: faded white

Embellishments (i.e. bumper stickers)

Sprawl-Mart: Always Low Wages
The Labor Movement: The People Who Brought You the Weekend
Fourth Amendment to the Constitution (illegal search and seizure)
Tinker Bell: What are YOU looking at? (next to 4th Amendment)
First Amendment to the Constitution (Establishment Clause)
My Karma Ran Over My Dogma
I (heart) Turkey Vultures
It's a Druid Thing
Create the World You Want To See
APL (also Appalachia)

The turkey vulture one had a buzzard inside the heart.

Okay. My daughter's fine, and I'm so happy about that. But can I still mourn my car?


Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Will the U.S. Constitution Buy an Indulgence?

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," looking for a federal grant for our faith-based initiative since 2000!

What? A Druid with a faith-based initiative? Yeppers, it's called Save Terrapin Run. I don't see why the federal government won't give us money to preserve a clean little stream and all its innocent critters from an evil developer. Shouldn't Right to Life extend to crawdads?

Federal funding for faith-based initiatives. Hey, Librarian of Congress! Give me that copy of the U.S. Constitution so I can take my scissors to the First Amendment!

I do have a super-duper suggestion for the Roman Catholic Church. They will be issuing indulgences this summer to their members who don't crave long, boring eons in Purgatory. Quite nice of them, don't you think? Now you really can buy the stairway to heaven.

So let's get a federal grant for all the Roman Catholics who want to take advantage of the indulgence initiative. Because, you know, the priests say there's no money involved, but the indulgee has to go to a shrine. You think when the indulgee gets to the shrine, no one's gonna ask for a donation?

Here's my solution. The Catholic Church should apply for a federal grant that will give poor Catholics bus fare and spending money for their indulgences. It's a win-win situation. Indulged Catholics make better voters, and clearly the government doesn't need the money for anything else or it wouldn't be dumping largesse on religious organizations.

As usual, this advice is offered free of charge.

Now I've got to go finish my grant proposal. It's called "Application by Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids for Ecological Research and Non-Development of Dry Branch Stream Beds in Appalachia and Other Mountainous Regions."

Beannachd leat,


Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Some Things You Just Don't Joke About

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," thanking every pantheon that our daughter The Heir is safe and sound!

Ah, well, The Heir navigated the trusty 1994 Ford Escort home from a Monkey Man-led puppet show and poetry reading last night. Mom had sipped a few.

Today The Heir drove alone to her summer job, and on the way home she blundered, and the trusty Ford is ... well.

But that doesn't matter, because The Heir didn't even get a scratch.

Some people drive their cars. We at "The Gods Are Bored" have relationships with cars. We've driven our 1994 Escort for five years with nothing more than routine maintenance. We've plastered her with Pagan and Appalachian bumper stickers -- and amendments to the U.S. Constitution. We adore that car!

But an accident was overdue. This is New Jersey.

Yes, this is New Jersey, where a novice teen driver can make a blunder, get broadsided, and the wronged driver gets out, looks at his car, tells her (in thick foreign English) that she should be more careful, and drives away.

Right now The Heir is upstairs sleeping. The mom is trying desperately not to contemplate life without The Heir. The Escort is in the driveway.

Does anyone know if 1994 Ford Escorts are made of good American steel? Because if they are, a body shop might be able to knock everything but the passenger door back into place.

C'mon all you guys out there. Leave a comment before the New Jersey body shop guy tries to fleece the fleas off my hide.

My daughter is safe. My car still runs. Thank you, guardian Goddess Queen Brighid the Bright!

Beannachd leat to all,

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Tagged: I'm It!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we've always been the one who gets tagged and then can't tag anybody back! Year after dreary year, from K right through 12, Anne was always chosen dead last for any game, from the sandlot to phys ed class.

Hecate has tagged me to list eight random facts about myself.

1. I love to write.

2. I started this blog because I read in the newspaper that a lady with a blog got enough money from her readers to get surgery for her sick dog. Funny thing is, I don't have a dog.

3. I've had the same pair of prescription sunglasses for five years. The faeries have hidden them from me 1, 826 times.

4. I have impure thoughts but I don't act on them. It's against my religion.

5. If I could go back in time for one day, I'd choose the evening when my grandpa had all his brothers and sisters over, and we watched slides of Uncle Walter's milk cows for two hours. (He said he was bringing slides of his trip to the Grand Canyon.) Every time a new cow picture came up on the screen we all hooted. Never had so much fun.

6. I love to watch snow fall.

7. My daemon's name is Buzzy.

8. Last week I was leafing through a copy of Brian Froud's Sketchbook, and I saw the faerie I used to play with when I was a kid, before Buzzy came along. The faerie's name is Oot (pronounced "ewt").

Thank you for visiting me at "The Gods Are Bored!" I look forward to entertaining you every day. It's not work, it's play.

Following my usual path, I now tag half Appalachians and half Pagans. Appalachians: Rosie, Wandering Hillbilly, Elvis, and Kayak Dave.

Pagans: Scott, Athana, and Nettle.

Beannachd leat,
THE MERLIN, etc.etc.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Chick Tracts; Or, Moron Alert!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," slaughtering kittens in pentagrams since ...

Wait a minute. We've never slaughtered kittens in pentagrams!

Remember those little Christian tracts you always see crumpled up in trash cans? Now you can read them online. Elvis Drinkmo alerted me on his new blog DCComitician. (It's a great site. Where else can you ponder What Would Starfleet Command Do?)

The site is called Chick Publications. And the fare hasn't changed since I was a kid and earnest-looking church ladies passed them out at carnivals.

Of course I was eager to see how Chick Lit portrays Druids, and I was not disappointed. I do hope these pictures copy in a readable way, but if they don't, go to the site and click on "BOO."

Wow. No wonder Dogson ... err ... Dobson rails against us! We're spooky! And forget about kittens! We want virgins! Human sacrifice! Especially on our spookiest day, Halloween!

Oh, pleeeeeze. What moron's lively imagination conjured up this wackadoo horse piffle?

I pity the trees that got pulped for this garbage.

Can I speak for Druids everywhere? I think so. We are peace-loving and highly moral people. As for Satan, he belongs to their pantheon, not ours. Stop passing him off on us.

I close with


No, can't resist an EXHIBIT B:

Casey Jones, Foster Kitten NOT SLAUGHTERED

Beannachd leat,


Friday, June 22, 2007

Summer Vacation

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where Summer Solstice and stomach flu co-mingle in disappointing ways! Life is never dull around here.

Where are you going on summer vacation?

We at "The Gods Are Bored" have taken some long, strange summer vacations. As a teenager, we spent three whole summers in Tudor England with King Henry VII and his six wives, and his daughter, Queen Elizabeth.

Today, just for instance, we took yet another little trip to Dayton, Tennessee, for another walk-through of the Scopes Monkey Trial. (We can tell the heat is really getting to William Jennings Bryan.)

Many many times over the last 15 years, we at "The Gods Are Bored" have spent the summer in the Middle Ages, agonizing with the Knights Templar through their little adventure in illegal search and seizure, denial of habeus corpus, confessions under torture, and interminable prison sentences without benefit of trial.

Heck, we don't have to go back to the Middle Ages for that stuff anymore, do we? We at "The Gods Are Bored" will save a fortune in time machine fares!

Every summer we at "The Gods Are Bored" take a pleasant romp through Florida with extreme environmentalists and their enemies, the gutless power brokers who want to pave everything with asphalt. We can thank the peerless Carl Hiaasen for booking these trips.

This summer we're also vowing to rejoin W. Y. Evans-Wentz on his mission of exploration of The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries. We've gotten as far as Brittany.

If you don't get what we're getting at here, it's this: Why drag your tired ass onto a plane? Find a recliner, grab the book in one hand and an ice tea in the other, and you're in the Everglades at the discount price of $18.95!

Carl Hiiasen, Nature Girl, Knopf, 2006.
W. Y. Evans-Wentz, The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries, Citadel Press, 1994.

Anne Johnson, Gray Magic, coming soon to a blog near you.

Beannachd leat

Thursday, June 21, 2007

What You Hear on the Radio

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored" on Summer Solstice 2007! Get out your drum, light your bonfire, and have a TaB and a smile!

I'm driving home from the last day of school, and it's getting close to 2:06, the official beginning of summer. Lo and behold I hear on the radio:

"More than 20,000 Druids greeted the Summer Solstice at Stonehenge, even though the sun didn't cooperate. Through clouds and fog the crowd celebrated: Druids, hippies, and Pagans..."

This coming from a news radio four time zones from Stonehenge.

I don't know about you, reader, but I count that as a fine bit of publicity for the Old Time Religions!

As for the hippies, well, all hail hippies! We at "The Gods Are Bored" never argue with sex, drugs, and rock n roll.

Summer's here and the time is right for dancin in the street!

For my good friends in the other hemisphere, get ready, your sun's a-comin' home.

Beannachd leat,

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Puck on the Last Day of School

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," gainfully underemployed since 2004! Did you ever have a great job you loved, only to turn on your computer one morning and find an e-pink slip? Yeah, me too.

But what luck! Here's Puck to roil the muck!

Puck: Anne, you fool. It's the last day of school! Break every rule! Bend every tool!

Anne: Puck, I'm stuck. No job, out of luck. School's the fort of last resort.

Puck: Oh, that's dreary. Makes me weary. Now now, Annie, don't get teary.

Anne: Sorry, Puck. I've lost my pluck. And still I've got to make a buck.

Puck: O may the fae come save the day! We just must find another way!

Anne: Lead on, o sprites, be guiding lights, send wishes on these shortest nights.

Puck: O, would you look? Anne wrote a book! And what a long, long time it took.

Anne: Puck, it's fiction with no friction. Publishers rejected it, agents have ejected it.

Puck: So you gave in? Now that's a sin. Please try again, you will well win.

Anne: Alert the fae, I'm in the fray. I'll put the novel back in play.

Puck: Either way you will go gray. So live a bit. What do you say?

Anne: I say it's Miller time.

Beannachd leat,

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Odd Thing

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," all you bright and beautiful people! Are you having a nice day? Me neither.

Something odd is happening to me. Namely, I'm starting to like living in New Jersey.

Go ahead, call the guys in the white coats, because I don't believe it either.

I've lived in New Jersey for 23 years. That makes this state my place of residence for the bulk of my life. Yougoddaproblem widdat?

See? I don't even talk Appalachian anymore. I pick it up again when I visit home, but I used to carry my accent with me allatime.

"Home." Ahhh, that word! New Jersey, home? Ick!

Except when I go home, it's no longer there. The farmlands are covered with McMansions, the highways are tangled bumper-to-bumper nightmares, all of my kin except my sister and a handful of cousins are gone. My uncle resides at the family farm so stubbornly that I can't even go there unless I want to hear him praise Rush Limbaugh to the skies.

So I don't go to the family farm.

Even the beautiful courthouse in Berkeley Springs burned down.

Now, you take your Jersey. What does it matter if they plow under another field for a shopping center? Can't get any uglier. Already crowded. It's not like I'm going to wander out some day and see my high school friend's big ol' dairy farm covered with ticky tack.

In Jersey you expect leaf blowers at 7 a.m. on weekends, gridlocked traffic, a flat-assed landmass, and sand in the soil. The water runs uphill. (You figure that one out.)

I've finally gotten used to it. Just don't bury me here, yous goddat?


Sunday, June 17, 2007

The First International Faerie Convention!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Confound all conventional wisdom!

In the next few months we may become a tad repetitive. That's because we're mounting a full court press for The First International Faerie Convention, to be held in Philadelphia, PA on October 14 and 15, 2007.

Now coming into vogue are "cons," or conventions, like Otakon, a gathering of manga fans. A huge gathering of manga fans.

"Con" may very well be the operative word, because these events are rather costly.

However, if you happen to like the concept of the con, and you're content to converse with congenial conspirators, you configure your conviviality and find much pro in the con!

We at "The Gods Are Bored" find faeries fascinating. We are consumed by contemplating this conclave as a confirmation of Celtic congregationalism!

Mark your calendar now, save money by purchasing your tickets early, and by all means let us know if you plan to converge on the con! We'll convene as a conspicuous confederacy ... the more the merrier!


Saturday, June 16, 2007

Another mile post -- maybe a few more

Emmmm! Watch out! Yikes! Stay in your lane, for the love of fruit flies!

Now, turn here. Turn here. Turn here. Turn here. You're not turning. You're not turning. You didn't turn. You didn't turn!

I don't know where we are. Look out!

No. No. No. Don't take that exit. You don't want a bridge. No bridges. Stay on this road. Left! Left! That's right! No, I don't mean right, I mean left!

My daughter The Heir just got her driver's license and is trying to learn how to drive in the New Jersey suburbs. It's kind of like learning how to swim by diving into Niagra Falls.

Where's my Soma?


Monday, June 11, 2007

If Thor Allows

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where you can find a god or goddess for your every need in our handy Classified Ads. If you go to the sidebar and click "deity of the day," you'll see what we mean!

Thor is meandering past as I write this. I hope he doesn't get mad that I'm not an Asratu. Hey, I'm all for Asratus, Thor. Any pantheon is a good pantheon to me.

On Memorial Day I always go to a graveyard in an African American community where they have more than 100 black Civil War soldiers buried. You see, the community accepted any unknown or unclaimed Union soldier, because the federal graveyards would not bury black soldiers with white soldiers. (Yeah, this has always been a sucky country.)

There's one grave of a Civil War soldier there that recently got a new marker because the mortal remains beneath represent a soldier who won the Congressional Medal of Honor for bravery in the Navy. It has been my practice to leave a little patriotic arrangement on this man's grave in honor of him, and the other soldiers there, and my own hillbilly ancestors who ran to the Grand Army of the Republic recruiters as soon as the first shot was fired.

No one ever takes off what I put there, so this year there were three years' worth of beat-up flowers around the stone.

I found a pretty little red-white-n-blue leftover from Mem Day at the flea market yesterday. Having exhausted my brain with deep thinking, I decided to drive over and freshen the Union soldier's grave site.

While I was there I saluted Chonganda, awesome bored god of the Congolese people. I swear the ground moved underneath me.

So, as far as science and deep thinking and all that goes, I'm in the Robert Anton Wilson camp. We only use 10 percent of our brains. If we ever get the other 90 percent up and running, maybe all this other dimension stuff, and spirit movements, and bored gods, will be old hat.

Chonganda and I are getting to be very good friends. He's so bored he doesn't even have a Google image. I think he was doggone tickled to find a graveyard that he can protect.

Beannachd leat,
Tomorrow: Fundie sis amongst the faeries!

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Theatre Review: Inherit the Wind

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," deep thinking and steep drinking since 2005! If you're a newcomer, help yourself to one of our plush seats. They all recline. Someone will take your order shortly.

Mr. Johnson had to be in New York on business Friday evening. That meant his plant paid for mileage, hotel room, and his meals. I never want to go to Manhattan. It's a bloody overcrowded island. However, I recalled that the play Inherit the Wind was in a limited Broadway run with Christopher Plummer and Brian Dennehey in the leads.

Free advice from Anne: It's hardly ever impossible to get a seat to a show or a concert if you only want one seat. This does not hold true, of course, if the venue has been filled to standing room only. But if there's no one craning their necks in the aisles, trust me, there's a seat to be had.

Off I toddle to New York City, holding in my paw an online-purchased ticket to Inherit the Wind.

We at "The Gods Are Bored" don't just wander into Inherit the Wind because we liked Christopher Plummer in The Sound of Music. (Gag.) Happens that we wrote a book called Defining Moments: The Scopes Monkey Trial in 2006. Inherit the Wind is about the Scopes Monkey Trial.

Of course, a two-hour play and a six-day trial can be two entirely different species of monkey. This is certainly the case with Scopes and Inherit.

The Scopes trial was dominated by two equally vehement ego-maniacs: Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan. Yes, Darrow put Bryan on the stand and humiliated him by asking him questions about the Bible. (At one point Bryan became so flustered that he said, "I don't think about the things I don't think about." To which Darrow replied, "Well, do you think about the things you do think about?")

That particular exchange remains in Inherit the Wind, but the Clarence Darrow character, played with distinction by Plummer, has been ennobled by a set of playwrights with Cold War-era concerns. In other words, the fictitious "Henry Drummond" is a better Clarence Darrow than the real one was. The ficitious "Henry Drummond" never balls up his fist and shouts: "I am examining you on your fool ideas that no intelligent Christian on earth believes!"

Even the intelligent Christians thought Darrow overstepped himself by pelting Bryan with questions about where Cain got his wife and how the snake walked in the Garden of Eden before God set the creature on its belly. Bryan kept taking the sucker punches because he thought he'd get a chance to turn the tables and question Darrow. It didn't happen because after wiping the floor with Bryan, Darrow instructed the jury to find his client guilty.

In the play Inherit the Wind, the Bryant character is left, stricken and humiliated, as his former supporters desert him, laughing at his foolishness. In reality, Darrow's relentless questioning, and the subsequent letdown of not being able to reply in kind, outright killed Bryan and added considerable grease to the wheels of the anti-evolution movement. If anything, Bryan left the Scopes trial like Joe Frazier left Manila -- damaged, perhaps, but still with more than enough fans.

"Drummond," in Inherit the Wind, is unmasked in the end as a religious man with noble convictions. Everything I read by and about Clarence Darrow in preparation for writing a book about the Scopes trial leads me to believe that he was indeed an atheist, terrified of death. He was also aghast at the nation's drift back toward the Middle Ages, as represented by laws against teaching evolution in public school classrooms. These two components of his character did not make him an ideal attorney for the defense of John T. Scopes.

Scopes did have an ideal attorney at his table, but Dudley Field Malone is not a character in Inherit the Wind.

So, the play Inherit the Wind simplifies and magnifies the Scopes trial to make a point about irrational mob rule, more related to the McCarthy era than to the 1920s. But the play does pose a philosophical question, also posed at the trial.

The question is this: Is thinking a good thing?

On the surface, this is a simple concept. Of course thinking is a good thing! Look at that moron in the White House! If he actually thought about what he was doing, maybe he wouldn't do it!

Soft, o reader. Ponder this a moment. Does your religious faith hold up to scientific scrutiny?

It was my dad's opinion -- and Clarence Darrow's -- that no religion in which the soul survived the body could stand up to critical thinking, because science has never been able to prove that the soul survives death.

You know what? I think I'm going to go outside, have a beer, and watch the grass grow. I'm through with thinking for today.

Beannachd leat,

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Broadway Bound!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" We'll take Manhattan, the Bronx and Staten Island too. It's lovely going through ... the zooooo.

Off to Broadway to see ... oh, readers and bored gods everywhere, I'm so thrilled ...

Inherit the Wind, starring Christopher Plummer and Brian Dennehey!

Dont hate me cuz u aint me.

In the meantime, in all seriousness, I re-posted my Great, Grand, Griffon Grab below for any of you who want to win a deluxe vulture package.

William Jennings Bryan: I don't think about things I don't think about.

Clarence Darrow: Well, do you think about the things you do think about?

Do you think? Keep at it!

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Tepeyollotl Explains the Creation of Caves

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," raving about caving since 1976!

That was the year I went into a wild cave and crawled through a passage 12 inches high, and got to thinking about what would happen if the rocks moved just a little bit.

Haven't been caving since.

But today I find myself thinking about caves. Have you ever been in an active cave? You find these stalactites that have itty bitty drops of water on them, which means they're growing at the astonishing rate of ... wait a minute, I'll have to look it up ...

Hard to find the answer to that. Predictably, the folks at the Creation Museum say that stalactites can grow as fast as Rapunzel's hair.

Conversely, the folks that have taken mathematical measurements and extrapolated from known rates of cave formation growth say that stalactites lengthen about an inch every 100 years.

If I'm wrong about that, correct me. I couldn't even find the answer to that in a geology textbook on my desk!

Were all the thousands of the world's caverns, known and unknown, created mostly in a fell swoop by that big old Noah's flood?

Damn, that was one busy-ass flood, huh? Canyons, mountains, caves. Sheesh. I'll bet that flood's been napping ever since.

We at "The Gods Are Bored" have invited a God of caves to comment on this. Please give a warm, wonderful welcome to Tepeyollotl, awesome Aztec God of caves!

Anne: (to herself) By my soul, these Aztecs had a god for every occasion! I wish they used easier spelling! (to Tepeyollotl) Welcome, honored God! Caves are magnificent spectacles of Nature at its finest.

Tepeyollotl: Thank you. I am very proud of my work.

Anne: Do you mean to tell me you have created all the caves in the world?

Tepeyollotl: Absolutely. What, do you think only Yahweh can create? He and I once had a cave-off, and his cave caved. You see, I'm a specialist. He's a generalist. Take your world-obliterating floods. I couldn't do that in a month of trying.

Anne: Glad to hear it. And I really must toddle. Sorry to keep this interview so short.

Tepeyollotl: Perfectly all right. I have a bridge game tonight.

Anne: So, readers. There you have it. Science proves beyond any doubt that Tepeyollotl, Aztec specialist god of caves, created all the caves in the world. And he's the god of earthquakes too, so you'd better not send any mathematician or scientist to contradict him!

Beannachd leat,

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Interview with the Goddess of Sewers

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," waiting to win the lottery since ... when did they start having legal lotteries?

Yesterday I erred. I said that Faerie Con, an international faerie gathering to be held in my backyard, was the big ticket item on my wish list.

Not so. Something else makes me far happier.

A significant population of the endangered species Harperella, a frail relative of Queen Anne's Lace, lives along Fifteen Mile Creek. Terrapin Run is a tributary of Fifteen Mile Creek. If the ecosystem of Terrapin Run changes, then the ecosystem of Fifteen Mile Creek will change as well.

I'm sure you want to miss that evening commuter train home and read all about Harperella.
And who knows? An intrepid biologist might find some Harperella growing along Terrapin Run. It could happen. The conditions there are ideal.

To celebrate this news, we have a visiting Goddess! Please give a warm, wonderful, nurturing "The Gods Are Bored" welcome to Cloacina, Goddess of Sewers!

Cloacina: I prefer some political correctness, please. Cloacina, Goddess of Cleanliness and Sanitation.

Anne: Sorry. I should have known better. You are from the Roman pantheon. How are they doing?

Cloacina: They're so bored they volunteered to assemble My Scene dolls.

Anne: Alas, alack! We'll do everything we can for Zeus, et. al., here at TGAB. Cloacina, you already knew, didn't you, that Michael Carnock and his shadowy PDC Corporation (no known website) plan to use Terrapin Run, a gorgeous little mountain stream, as the runoff conduit for treated sewage from a town of 11,000 people that doesn't exist at all today?

Cloacina: By Zeus and Hera, the ancient Romans had better sense than that. "Treated," indeed! As if removing E coli was the only thing that matters to an intermittent-running tiny little crick!

Anne: Oh, you called it a crick! How precious! That's what we call creeks where I come from!

Cloacina: Can't you see I'm angling for an open position here?

Anne: OMG&G! Of course! Geez, I'm a ditz. Cloacina, awesome Goddess of Cleanliness and Sanitation, will you accept my prayers and offerings and take the open position of Official Goddess of Terrapin Run? PLEEEEEEEEEZE?

Cloacina: I can start tomorrow. Let me just put a few things in a bag. I'll need directions.

Anne: Little Orleans exit from I-68 in Maryland. If traveling west, turn left off exit, follow Scenic Route 40 to the bottom of Town Hill. Old concrete bridge on right. No sign. Well, there are a few "No Trespassing" signs. We know who they belong to.

Cloacina: I'm right on it, my daughter. You can count on me. Oh my, a real job for a deity! I'm so excited!

Anne: It doesn't offer much in the way of offerings. I don't get to Terrapin Run very often.

Cloacina: No worries, my daughter. Visit when you can. I'll be there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go cancel my electric and telephone.

Somehow it seems fitting that a person who worships vultures would offer meaningful work to the Goddess of Cleanliness and Sanitation.

Please, readers, don't call the men in white coats. They already know about me.

Beannachd leat,

Monday, June 04, 2007

My Jaw Dropped to the Floor

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where there is no room for gloom and doom!

All it takes is one magickal Blue Moon get-together, and the blessings start pouring in.

There's a federally-designated endangered plant called Harperella living along Terrapin Run.

But that's not the best news. THIS is the best news:

Bibi, I sure hope you see this one! You too, Hecate.

Hat tip to awesome Nettle on the con. And if you visit Nettle's site, please be advised that the picture at the top is her family farm.

Beannachd leat!

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Quick Question

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," etc.

Big family gathering today.

A quick question.

What do you do about a beloved mother-in-law who spends all her time at yard sales and then brings you ugly furniture and paintings?

Desperately seeking advice.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Birthday Party Run Amok!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," practical parenting for those who are longing to throttle Dr. Laura!

Maybe I shouldn't compare myself favorably to Dr. Laura, because there's mayhem downstairs, total mayhem.

It's The Heir's 18th birthday party.

Damn if they haven't raided the stash of TaB.

Yes, readers, I'm a total failure as The Mother of My Children! At this very moment, tender youngsters are toasting with TaB, tasting TaB for the first time, while my reckless, TaB-addicted daughter looks on!

This is a disaster waiting to happen. One of those sweet, innocent kids down there might develop a TaB habit, start drinking 350 cans every day, and wind up with cancer! Just ask the poor lab rats who were plied with the equivalent of 350 cans of TaB a day, and they'll tell you it's quite easy to injest that much carbonated soft drink.

I hang my head in shame. I'm a disgrace to this community, where all the normal parents allow their kids to drink beer.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Once in a Blue Moon

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Buy one god, get one free! limited time offer, act now!

Our eldest daughter, The Heir, came of age today. She is old enough to vote, thank goodness! One more lever pulled for the Blue.

More about blue moons, bored gods, baby dinosaurs, and even the Goddess of the Sewer, coming to you next week, only at "The Gods Are Bored!"

Y'all come back now, hear?