I've said it time after time. We don't know the names and ranks of a fraction of all the deities who were ever praised and worshiped. Gosh, we only go back a few millenniums when it comes to recorded history, with names and images and that sort of rot. Before people started drawing horses on cave walls, they already had Gods and Goddesses.
Therefore, please give a warm, wonderful, Gods-Are-Bored welcome to Ancient Stan, the bored God of Ultimate Respect!
Anne: All hail, Stan!
Stan: The "all hail" is acceptable. But you must address me as Sir Stan, Sir.
Anne: Wait a minute! Are you in the Corps?
Stan: No, but I admire the way they do things. Respect! Yes sir! Have you ever noticed that all gods demand respect?
Anne: Actually, no. Some deities don't care that much about respect.
Stan: About respect, what?
Stan: ABOUT RESPECT, WHAT?
Anne: Oh! About respect, Sir Stan, Sir!
Stan: Better. But you're not on your knees with your nose to the ground.
Anne: Ah, you're one of those gods.
Stan: I don't like your tone. What do you mean, one of those gods?
Anne: All I mean, Sir Stan, Sir, is that you seem more bent upon getting respect than upon bestowing blessings or curing the ills of the world.
Stan: Wrong, insolent modern mortal! I will bestow blessings upon you abundantly when you accord Me the proper respect! Respect comes first, and then you get a treat!
Anne: I think I'm in rebellion against that model, actually. But it never hurts to be polite.
Stan: REBELLION? I SMITE rebellion! Disrespect me, and I'll send you a tornado! And you know what else? I don't even have to OPENLY SEE the disrespect. If I THINK you're disrespecting me, I will rot the crops with too much water!
Anne: Yes sir, Sir Stan, Sir! Far be it from me to want the crops rotted in the fields! Oh, wait. It's wintertime. I have a question for you, Sir Stan, Sir. Here. Let me get down on my knees...
(Anne has creaky knees, especially when it's going to rain.)
Anne: Nose to the ground ... wow, this is awkward. Why do people do this?
Stan: TO HUMBLE THEMSELVES! You are extremely cheeky. You are trying My patience.
Anne: You're not the first to notice my cheekiness, Sir Stan, Sir. Is this totally prostrate posture good enough for you?
Stan: How old are you?
Anne: I'll call you "Sir" all night, but I won't tell you that.
Stan: WHERE'S MY TORNADO?
Anne: Golly, you are impossible, Sir Stan, Sir! My nose is practically putting a dent in the linoleum! I just wanted to ask ... This whole respect thing ... How did it work out for You? What happened to Your praise and worship team?
Stan: They forgot to show Me respect, so I sent tornadoes and crop failure. Then a neighboring tribe took over their land and enslaved. them.
Anne: I guess You showed them, huh? But where did that leave You, if Your praise and worship team got walloped?
Stan: I had My respect intact. And I was busy doing other things.
Anne: Other things, Sir Stan, Sir? What could possibly be more important for a deity than having a praise and worship team?
Stan: I was having Children. Strong, strapping Sons. Wait until I leave before you rise from the floor.