Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where today we would be remiss if we didn't mention our sweet daughter The Heir. She and a fellow artist were given the challenge to create installations for two different art galleries in as many days. She and her partner have been working like busy bees to get everything done. Last night was the first, and it was incredibly beautiful! They had bowls of colored Jello on a mirrored surface! It was gorgeous, and what a great idea! It even smelled good. It was like entering a kingdom of colored beauty. Tonight is another show at a different gallery. Wish her luck!
Last week, I think it was, West Virginia celebrated its 150th anniversary. Do you know the story? The part of Virginia that is now West Virginia was full of abolitionists who did not want to secede. Abraham Lincoln split up the state in 1863, and it's been that way ever since. Gosh, I sure do hope I live to see West Virginia's bicentennial. I'll be a geezer, but it's something to shoot for.
Now that the festivities in WV are over, we have a rare opportunity here at TGAB. Today's visitor isn't a bored god, but he's sure weird. Please give a wary, hold-your-breath welcome to Mothman!
Anne: Mothman, I suppose you know why I invited you here today to hang around my porch light.
Mothman: I'm not a god. I haven't a clue!
Anne: Well, my daughter The Spare and all her cheeky Snobville buddies are going to West Virginia to do some white water rafting. Spare has never done this before.
Mothman: You don't say ... nom nom nom...
Anne: Now, Mothman! That's exactly why I asked you to drop in! Don't scare the Spare!
Mothman: I get a bad rap. Where I'm from, Planet Mothman, I'm considered quite a handsome specimen. Here, everyone thinks I'm ugly and out to get them.
Anne: Then why don't you go home?
Mothman: I was just another mothman on Planet Mothman. Here they have a festival for me every September. And they even have a statue of me in bronze! I wouldn't get that kind of attention where I'm from.
Anne: So you would rather be a celebrity that everyone fears than an anonymous member of your species.
Anne: I think that makes you more "man" than "moth."
Mothman: So. This daughter of yours. Is she ... emmm ... chewy?
Anne: Stop it!
Mothman: A mothman's gotta eat, doesn't he?
Anne: Not my daughter.
Mothman: Then how about one of her friends?
Anne: This was exactly what I feared. You are a dangerous Something or Other! Okay, so I tried to be nice. Now here's the warning. I sent an arsenal of anti-Mothman weapons along with Spare.
Mothman: Such as?
Anne: Mothballs, of course.
Mothman: I've developed a tolerance.
Anne: Well, mister smarty-wing, have you developed a tolerance for Final Net hairspray?
Mothman: WTF? I'm supposed to be afraid of hair spray?
Anne: Have you seen what it does to the wings of a wasp?
Mothman: Your daughter wouldn't have the nerve.
Anne: Why test it? Look! Here's an invitation to a general panic-inducing nighttime attack on campers in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. Why don't you join the Jersey Devil for a long weekend ... you know, shoot the breeze, trample a few cars, appear to a few people who no one else will believe... just your average fun time.
Mothman: Sold! I haven't seen the Jersey Devil in forever! But I can't go to a party empty-handed. Mmmm. Anne! You look .... nom nom nom.
Anne: Oh, no you don't! Take this nice sweet potato casserole and hit the turnpike!
Mothman: Oh, thanks so much! To be perfectly honest, people don't taste very good anyway.
Image of the Mothman courtesy of the brave folks at prairieghosts.com.