Weekly Life Top Ten

 Here at “The Gods Are Bored,” we know genius when we see it. One of my students this year is a genius.

I won’t go into detail to protect this student’s privacy. But by all the Bored Gods, my jaw hit the floor when I saw the scope of a personal project he has been doing for the last five years. Completely self directed.

Public school doesn’t serve such students well. It’s all about pegs and holes, and anyone outside the parameters doesn’t usually get credit for their outside endeavors. I truly hope this young person finds a way to use these prodigious talents in our cold cruel world.

But enough sermonizing! This is what the student has done. Stemming from an interest in the Billboard Top 100, he has created a Weekly Life Top Ten, in which he assesses what has been most on his mind each week.

It’s an idea worth stealing. I’m going to do it!

ANNE’S PREMIER WEEKLY LIFE TOP 10

(Forgot to add that we omit family members and pets, as of course they occupy the bulk of our thoughts.)

1. Government in chaos

2. Eagles winning championship 

3. Union busting propaganda online

4. Weight

5. Bronxwood (novel)

6. How Sophocles could improve the end of “Oedipus Rex.”

7. Sea glass

8. Student absent since January 20 (she came back today, whew!)

9. Eagles fan who died celebrating by falling off a greased light pole

10. Mabel Stark (novel)

I’m going to try to do this every week. My student uses spreadsheets to track trends in his thought processes (!) but that’s not in my skill set.

The student who was absent is Hispanic, so I’m sure you know what I was thinking.

The Only Time To Be in Philadelphia

 Yo, welcome to “The Gods Are Bored,” bro! Grab a cheesesteak and a beer and GO BIRDS!

I have lived just outside Philadelphia for more than 35 years. I never thought I would land where I have. But here I am.

Philadelphia has a reputation for being a tough city.  Personally I haven’t found it to be any tougher than the other cities I have called home. Show me the city of a million people where everyone greets each other with a hearty handshake. Maybe in Canada?

Yes, Philadelphians are notoriously grumpy. No one likes us, we don’t care.

The one time when Philadelphians are jovial to one another is when either the Phillies or the Eagles have made the playoffs. We don our gear and say “Go Birds” to each and every stranger. For a few brief weeks there’s an emerald glow to all interactions.

Case in point: I don’t ever go into the city at night anymore. But last night I did! There was a drone show over the iconic Art Museum in honor of the Eagles advancing in the playoffs.

I met my daughter The Fair in Rittenhouse Square (ah, nice rhyme!) and we walked down to the museum. It was cold as the Arctic tundra, but when we got walking it wasn’t so bad. 

The crowd was cheerful, the cheerleaders were cute, and the drone show - well, to truly enjoy a drone show you need to be there. Walking back to the El station, we shouted “Go Birds” to everyone wearing Eagles gear, which was pretty much everyone.

Behind us you can see our museum, tastefully decorated. This city is a class act.

My bro, there’s no better anesthesia than a successful sports team. When your team is winning, you don’t have to dwell in the real world. Everything is green, everyone is stoked, every jabroni keeps his rude comments to himself. If the team is winning, we’re all in this together.

It’s nice while it lasts. Fly Eagles Fly!

Interview with a Bored God: Apollo

 For the love of fruit flies. He is as handsome as they all said he was. My aging heart is aflutter. Please give a warm, wonderful Gods Are Bored welcome to Phoebus Apollo!

Anne: I’m sorrry, great Sky Archer, but I am in very, very low spirits today.

Apollo: You mean about this new leader and all his reign portends?

Anne: Yes.

Apollo: This is my doing.

Anne: WHAT?

Apollo: You heard me.

Anne: But, Phoebus Apollo! Why?

Apollo: That sinking feeling in your soul, Anne? It’s hubris. First you laughed and jeered at the Jehovah prayer warriors and supremely underestimated their power. Then you asked my sister Aphrodite for help with a spell and then neglected Her shrine. The infamous “dead mouse on the altar” episode.

Anne: Oh snap.

Apollo: And the final blow? Showing a YouTube video to your students called “Apollo Was Evil” by some smartass podcaster. What were you forgetting amidst all this, Anne?

Anne: That you Greek deities are not only immortal, but abundantly supplied with human traits like fury.

Apollo: Sums it up nicely. Enjoy that heaping helping of mea culpa you’re going to be feasting upon. My siblings have had enough of your disrespect. And while we’re at it, we’re paving the way for the Jehovah people to wreck things good and proper. You deserve it, and your blighted (in every respect) country deserves it. We will enjoy Our front row seats.

Anne: I am guilty as charged, Phoebus Apollo. How can I reverse this curse? Oh no! You have the power to unleash bird flu!

Apollo: Indeed I do. Plagues are my thing, both causing and curing. And I am not in a curing mood.

Anne: What can I do? You aren’t deaf to pleading. Help me make this right.

Apollo: Start by developing some humility. Deep six that flippant attitude. I know that’s what has attracted your three readers, but it’s not acceptable. Gods are Gods. Please be aware of that.

Anne: This has occurred to me. I’m at fault here. I feel like I need to make a serious reparation. 

Apollo: Nothing less than a pilgrimage to Delphi will do. Just so you know.

Anne: I hate traveling. I have only left the USA as far as Canada.

Apollo: Suit yourself. The damage is done, and I have decreed the cure. Steer clear of birds. Just a helpful tip.

And He’s gone without saying goodbye. No amount of tea and pie would matter anyway.

Seeking the Spheres to Connect Them

Welcome back to “The Gods Are Bored!” I’m Anne Johnson (still and always), and I’m typing with one finger. Guess it’s like doing things with one hand behind my back.

The title of this post comes from a Walt Whitman poem called “A Noiseless Patient Spider.” The poem is about the soul’s attempts to seek connection.

In the past few years, as I interacted with people on Facebook, I would often be quite surprised by their coldness and distance when I would see them in person. I would comment warmly and faithfully on all the photos they put up of pets and peeves. Then, in a true social situation, I would expect authentic connection, only to be met with bafflement on the other person’s part.

At the same time, my sphere of true connection shrank to bones. I have no close friends. When I am off work I socialize with my nuclear family and occasionally my sister and siblings-in-law.

It’s a narrow view of the world.

Last week, via Facebook, I discovered that one of my dearest former friends, the Monkey Man, had been hit by a car and was well nigh crushed. Tells you all you need to know that I wasn’t sure he would remember me when I showed up at his rehab center. But he did. We had a lot to talk about.

How could I have let this wonderful person go in favor of a computer screen? 

Well, for one thing, my job exhausts me. And I have joined this larp group full of fun people who I wouldn’t call friends. Yet.

But no more excuses. I need to form real bridges. It’s my new goal for 2025.

Ha ha! Isn’t it rich that I’m announcing this resolution on a blog? Ironic. But it is a goal.

Maybe there’s a bored deity who will help me. They sure understand this kind of isolation.

I’m Anne Johnson, and I’m an Addict.

 My addiction is social media.

Like other addicts, I’m quick to say, “Well, I’m not as bad as other people.” But “bad” isn’t a continuum. At least for me.

I could also say, “Well, there are circumstances.” My old laptop isn’t serving me well anymore, and now I do everything on my phone. I’m typing this with one finger.

Social media exists to create user engagement. The more time you spend on it, the more the algorithm tweaks your content. You like cats? A million cute kitten videos are at your command. You want to end the oligarchy? You’ll find your people, thanks to the oligarchs themselves. They put up with radical left wingers the way the tobacco companies offered low tar cigarettes.

I feel very fortunate that I never engaged with X or TikTok. But it’s so easy to spend 45 minutes scrolling Facebook. I’m going to see New Jersey sea glass and stunning photos of turkey vultures. I’m going to smack down anti-union propaganda and discover that my friend the Monkey Man has been hit by a car. On Instagram I am going to see my daughter The Fair’s personal and professional content. It’s so hard to back away.

The precipitating factor in my decision to curb my impulses is the decision by that mutant Zuckerberg to curtail fact checking. If we are in a car accelerating on Hitler Highway, I suddenly don’t want to take in the scenery. Who wants to gawk at a  hellscape?

So I am back here on “The Gods Are Bored,” punching the air for no one in particular. Like so many sensible people, I feel defeated and anxious. That mindset doesn’t lend itself to engaging content, but I’ll try. My broken brain needs the re-set.

I have content moderation on this blog now, so your communication may not get seen right away. But I will get to it.

It took me 25 minutes to type this, and that’s 25 minutes I spent somewhere other than the toxic platforms.

One day at a time.