An Open Letter to Nick Sandmann, Future Supreme Court Justice of America

Hello and welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," your Pagan pathway to paradise! You know what's good about bored deities? If they're warlike, they're just warlike. They don't pose as coo doves and then smite. That's hypocritical and dishonest, don't you think?

EXHIBIT A: Today's Poster Boy for the Modern Era

Y'all probably know this story already. The young white creature is Nick Sandmann, a teenager from private Covington Catholic School in Kentucky. He and his classmates (pictured in rear) got into an altercation at the Lincoln Memorial some time after the annual Right to Life rally in Washington, DC.

There was a great rush to judgment based on this photo, so I took the time to read the grinning white boy's version of events. And I must say, he would fit right in here in Haterville. He casts himself as a victim with a total lack of irony.

The story he tells says so much about him. As if you'd need to know more once you saw the MAGA hat.

Apparently these fine Catholic youth were minding their own business at the Lincoln Memorial when some African American men began to taunt them. In Sandmann's account, these Black men called the good, white Catholic boys all sorts of names. So, in response, Sandmann asked his chaperone if he and his buddies could chant SCHOOL PEP RALLY CHANTS, and the chaperone said YES.

Picture this in your mind. Especially if you're a school teacher.

So you have taunting on one side, and chanting on another (from white teenagers wearing MAGA hats), and then you get a drumming Native American who tries to diffuse the situation.

Well, you can't blame the drummer. Some fucking chaperone was inciting his or her charges to riot, instead of quietly steering them out of trouble.

This is what white privilege looks like.

I have absolutely no time or energy for these Catholic schoolboys who go into Washington, DC (population about 60 percent Black), having no respect for the urban environment or what they might encounter there. At a moment where a thinking student or chaperone encountered taunting, that student would turn and quietly walk away. Let's not even talk about what Jesus would do, because ... oh, just see above, first paragraph.

Any woman who has ever walked the streets of a city and has gotten taunted would have known what to do in this situation. But white men? White men don't know shit about this. It's never happened to them. Or to their fathers or grandfathers. It must never have happened to the chaperone, either.

White Catholic boy, your MAGA hat speaks for you. Wear it the wrong place, and you've got to face the music. You won't like the tune. But hear it with humility. You go to private school and are bound for a life of wealth and contentment. The men who challenged you at the Lincoln Memorial? Not so much. Not. So. Much.

But that brings me to the silver lining of this fable.

Nick Sandmann, given the political tenor of your home state (which I would never be foolish enough to visit in my car with its New Jersey plates), you have a bright, bright future! Someone will have to pick up the torch from Mitch McConnell, and you're just the fresh-faced Republican to do it. But why stop there? Everything about you just screams Supreme Court Justice. Are you doing your requisite beer parties with all those fine, young, white pep rally chanters you hang out with? Are you getting drunk and preying upon the fresh-faced Catholic girls in your circle? Oh good. Just checking. In that case, all is well! You're on your way to the big time!

Readers, I double dog guarantee you this sad excuse for an American will face no disciplinary repercussions for this at home or at school. Nor will his chaperone, who was either on some super strong mushrooms or was just a clueless rube. White boys get away with this shit. Always have.

And once again, we see the Catholic church at its finest. What a rotten God! It's disgusting.

Pope Party

Well well!  His holiness Pope Francis has left Philadelphia! His plane flew right over Chateau Johnson on the way out of town. And that's as close as I got to him, thank you very much.

However, his presence blessed my little corner of the world in a wonderful way.

About 18 months ago, a gay couple bought a big house across the street. The house had been lived in by a family, probably since the 1960s or even longer ... so it had fallen to a sort of shabby disrepair, outside and in.

Boy, did that house get a makeover! Fresh exterior paint, a fish pond, chain-link fencing torn down, tasteful exterior lighting, and a whole, new, lavish interior as well. That aside, these new neighbors (and their cute kids and their big, happy, black dog) are just a joy to be around. It's always a pure pleasure when a nice family moves into your everyday sphere of existence.

So the pope came to Philadelphia, and the whole city closed down to keep him safe. This disruption in routine reached into Snobville, since we're not very far from the city. It occurred to me that our little block should have a party, since probably everyone would be home. (Turned out they were.) The only trouble with parties is that you have to plan them. Which this Pagan did not want to do.

On Saturday I had just settled into the easy chair to grade papers when there came a knock upon my door. It was the gay neighbors. "Oh! You're here!" they exclaimed. "We're having a party! Come on over!"

So I went.

Reader, those fellows had their back yard looking like Party with a capital P. There were yellow and white balloons in clusters, a life-size cutout of the pope, pope "masks," pope candles, and a big banner that said "MEETING OF THE FAMILIES."

They had a DJ. They had a bbq rib contest, and I got to be a judge! Mr. J came over after awhile, and he had a good time too. When it got dark, they lit the pope candles, and the DJ turned on a portable disco ball. All the neighborhood tots went swimming in the pool (yes, they even have a pool) and then entertained us by dancing and lip-syncing. The adults got gently plastered (self and Mr. J and hosts excepted). The music lasted long into the night.

This was the pope party I wanted to throw, except I didn't have to lift a finger. Gosh, I didn't know about it until it was too late even to cook a church lady casserole! Not that I would have needed to -- the place was chock-a-block with delicious food and icy cold beverages.

The funny thing about organized religion is that it does have a spillover effect. Because we Snobvillains were stuck in our neighborhood, as opposed to running all over the place, we got together as families and enjoyed each other's company. So I would have to thank Pope Francis and the World Meeting of Families for a genuine trickle-down experience.

Regarding the pope's message to Americans, wow, was this Druid pleasantly surprised! Save the planet, cooperate as lawmakers, end the death penalty, families are great, kiss babies ... could have been worse, much worse.

And since I used to be all about humor, I leave you with this very short and completely hilarious article from The Onion about Papa Frankie's experience in Philadelphia. He sure got it right.

On the Fascinating Topic of High School Choirs

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," entertaining two or three people somehow since 2005! My name is Anne Johnson, and my home has suddenly grown to include another young lady. Since I have an Heir and a Spare (daughters), I call this young lady the Extra Chair, because we have to pull one up to the table when everyone's home to dinner.

But I digress.

When my daughter The Spare attended Snobville High, she sang in several excellent school choirs. Like everything else in Snobville, Spare's choir was chock-a-block with kids intending to major in vocal arts in college. You can't avoid this in Snobville. Give a kid a ball, he or she becomes an Olympian. Give them instruments, they wind up in the symphony. Give them a good camera, they become George Lucas (that's you, Spare ... get it done!).

Spare's choir teacher came to public school from a distinguished career as a church choir director. And so, inevitably, the Snobville Public High School Choir always sang at least two Christian numbers during the public school concerts. (Generally one was in Latin, one in English). During the Christmas holiday, a nod would be given to Judaism with some blast from the Old Testament.

And this boiled my blood. Not because the music wasn't pretty (it was), or well-done (it was), but because a public school choir should be held to the same First Amendment standards as every other aspect of public school. Music should be secular. It's not like one has to search dusty archives to find  chorus music with non-religious themes.

I used to complain about this to Spare. She would fix me with a disdainful eye and say it's no big deal. But to me it is. No one thinks about the First Amendment violations in school choir music. Suppose one or more of the singers were Pagans? Hardly seems fair.

If I ever go to a Snobville High choir concert and hear "Cantata in F Major for Flying Spaghetti Monster," I'll be satisfied.

Tonight is Extra Chair's annual high school choir performance. She attends the local parochial school. Now, you would surely expect a boatload of Latin-based Christian music at such a do ... and that's where it belongs. Extra Chair tells me that the program will consist of non-religious fare! Granted, E.C.'s English isn't perfected yet, but if I go to listen to a concert at Bonifice VIII School and there's no Latin, I'm going to be flabbergasted ... and more irate about Snobville High than ever.

The last time I went to a parochial school was when I was doing my night classes for teaching, an experience so wrenchingly foul that it still lingers like the last poison ivy blisters after a long bout of itching. Whew! Different school! Bring on the musty auditorium!

We'll see if the First Amendment prevails where it need not do so. What a world.

It Goes with the Territory

Well, what do you know? Two people resigned this week: my husband, Mr. J, and His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI.

One would imagine that Pope Benedict will get the best of everything in terms of a comfortable retirement. Not sure what's going to unfold for Mr. J.

One thing I do know: Mr. J was not the leader of the Roman Catholic Church.

I'll bet you've heard it already. Benedict XVI's retirement is the first such exit-stage-right since 1415. And most of the popes before that died in office as well. (Some, of course, were murdered.)

Far be it from me to tell the followers of the busy god what I think about their leadership, but I'll do it anyway.

Churches that are led by people who are elected in secret and then wear crowns and ride around in armored Humvees ought to have an ironclad rule: You lead until you die. Period. End of story. If you spend nearly a decade of your life dressed better than a king, adored by a billion-odd church members, you ought to be ready to prove, with your own life, that you are a mortal. Are your faculties declining? Is that crown getting too heavy for your aged head? Grow old before us! It goes with the territory.

One of the most important lessons religion teaches us is that we all die. If you're the pope, and you step down because you can't do the duties of your office anymore, you're not getting it. Dying at the helm is one of your duties. Going into a slow and painful decline is one of your duties! If not you, then who?

This is the same pope who re-instituted the Latin Mass. I don't get it. He was supposedly so conservative!

Granted, the Catholic Church has taken a beating lately, with the long-overdue revelation of priestly misconduct. No one will ever convince me that any man could be elected pope without knowing that some of his servants are criminals. But on Benedict's watch there was no denying it. Maybe he's tired of apologizing to victims of his church's power structure. Hey, Pope! It's your hot potato! Don't use the excuse that you're old for dropping it into someone else's lap!

I have never been a Roman Catholic, although Mr. J is one (unpracticing, but not necessarily apostate). Perhaps if I had grown up in that faith, I wouldn't find the lavish crowns, robes, castles, parades, and appearances so distasteful. It seems to me that, if you're representing a god who lived modestly, you should yourself live modestly.

The busy god in question is Jesus Christ. He died on public display, in agony. His representatives, especially the top-tier ones, should be willing to die on public display as well. Just saying that you gotta walk the walk of your deity, or your cred goes bust.

Bad form, Benedict. Unless, of course, you're immortal. Some people will look at it that way.

If you are looking for a bored god or goddess who won't expect you to work until you keel, well! Wow! I'm looking for one, too! Is there a bored god of comfortable old age? I'm in with the Crone. Anyone else?

Liberation Theology

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Unseasonably cool here in the Great Blue Northeast just now. I will take it!

This is the magic time of year when school teachers everywhere take down student work and start pinning newspapers over their bulletin boards. What a fabulous rite of passage! Can a realistic sleeping schedule be right around the corner?

Anyway, as I was plastering up the newsprint, I saw a story from the New York Times in which it states that the Christian Right wants to malign Obama for his association with "liberation theology." Apparently liberation theology is big among African American Christians and is considered ... oh, hell, I don't know what it's considered amongst the Christian Right, because anything nasty they say about it will send them straight to Hell.

Before I became a school teacher, I was a writer -- mostly reference books. I was asked to contribute entries to this huge project called the Catholic Encyclopedia. Mind you, I was never Catholic, but I could write to a deadline.

And speaking of dead, those were mostly the people I was asked to write about: priests and nuns who were murdered for their ties to liberation theology. Some of these martyrs (for that is what the RC church considers them) are being considered for sainthood. Which they damn well deserve more than the crooked bunch running the Vatican these days!

Liberation theology is the radical idea that everyone, including the government, should be deeply concerned with the plight of the poor. You may have missed it, but Jesus Christ is on record as being a champion of the destitute and the undesirable, going so far as to suggest that these poor folks might sail into Heaven while the rich ones won't.

The Catholic martyrs I wrote about were mostly young religious people who incited demonstrations and other nonviolent peasant uprisings in Third World Latin America, in an effort to stop exploitation of cheap labor and wholesale oppression of the lower classes. I admired these dudes. (Most, but not all, were dudes.) I think they had the stuff that martyrs are made of.

I would ask Jesus to come here for an interview about liberation theology, but He's too busy. Try pinning him down! Even his own followers can't find him.

So, here in a nutshell, is my untutored view of liberation theology:

It's a good thing. We should take care of the poor. There will always be poor people among us, but we should take care of them anyway. People who ignore or dismiss poor people, for whatever reason, cannot truly call themselves Christians.

My sister-in-law told me that the robes the Cardinals wear at the Vatican cost $30,000 apiece. Chew on that one awhile and ask yourself if those martyred priests in Colombia and Argentina are going to hold open the Pearly Gates for their church's bureaucrats.

As for the Christian Right ... they're not.

Back and Forth on the RC Church

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," online and in demand for your deity needs! One god is too busy. Many, many more -- equally worthy -- are nearly ignore or relegated to "myth." Book with a new carrier today! Our operators are standing by to take your call.

We here at TGAB hardly ever see the Philadelphia Inquirer anymore. I forget which op-ed piece by Rick Santorum finally pushed us over the cancel brink, but one of them did. If you don't know who Rick Santorum is, just look at this photo and judge a book by its cover for once.

The Inquirer has a columnist named Michael Smerconish. He's very popular, because usually he examines issues with a good yin-and-yang candor. Today's Smerconish column was not one of those times.

Michael Smerconish used his son's confirmation into the Roman Catholic Church as an opportunity to remind his many, many readers of the many, many good things the RC Church does, including (but not limited to) instilling a religious sensibility in its young teen members. Having put my oldest daughter through a Confirmation ordeal with the United Methodist Church (for which she still hasn't forgiven me, nor do I blame her), I would say that at the age of 13, you're old enough to know what you don't want, but not old enough to know what you do want. It's the Perfect Storm age where you bow to your parents' wishes and then wonder why you did.

Smerconish used his piece as well as an apologia for the bad press the RC Church has gotten over its pedophile priests. I've been over and over this subject here at TGAB, sometimes swinging one way and sometimes another. Today I'm in full combat gear.

I can't speak for you, reader, but I'm not satisfied with the RC Church's avowal of zero tolerance for child molesters. I have a friend who (deservedly) got jail time for watching child porn on his computer, even though there was no proof he ever harmed a child himself. When do we ever hear of pedophile priests going to jail? They get quietly shuffled here and there. Very quietly. Why would the RC Church not publicly condemn these men, compensate their victims, and send the perps to a Catholic-run penitentiary with all the cozy charm of Alcatraz? So much of Catholicism is still mired in the Middle Ages. Why not its punishment regimen for its criminals?

As long as I'm ranting yet again, I'll beat another dead horse. It's despicable that a faith founded by a barefoot carpenter who preached on hillsides is now represented by a man wearing a crown and living in a palace. A white man at that, when the majority of the church's parishioners are of color. Ha! A nation that abolished slavery just 140 years ago elected a black president, while a Church that prides itself on multicultualism continues its millennia-old tradition of white men, white men, white men!

So, while Michael Smerconish wipes a tear from his eye as his 13-year-old is initiated into the Roman Catholic Church, he might spend a moment pondering how his son will see that church 20 years from now, 30 years from now, 40 years from now. There's a chance the boy will become a Druid. There's more of a chance that he will become like my husband -- a bitter agnostic who reviles Catholicism in its every form.

Short and Serious

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we're time-starved and chore-laden! I'm going to keep this one short.

I'm not kept up to date on the news like I used to be before I started teaching school. So it was just yesterday that I heard about the most recent scandal in the Roman Catholic Church -- that of deaf men accusing priests of having abused them when they were schoolboys.

Just when you thought you'd heard it all about that Church, huh?

I've been thinking a lot about the evils of the Catholic Church. Only a few of them are coming to light, I'm sure. Some big ones have made history. Heck, Dante put two popes in the lowest bowels of Hell, and when he sees them on his journey, they tell him that the next pope will soon join them. (In fact at first they think Dante is said pope.) Inferno was written in the early 1300s.

However, throughout its career, the Roman Catholic Church has also done a great deal of good. A huge amount of good. Let's say we were to weigh good vs. evil in the Catholic Church. If we did that, and we found that for every evil deed, the Church produced 10,000 good deeds, does that mitigate the evil deeds? Put another way, does the preponderance of good allow leeway for some evil?

I'm interested in what you have to say on this subject.

As for me, I just look at that whole RC thing and thank the bored gods that I never had any truck with it. Bad enough to have spent time in a Pentecostal Church, but the Roman Catholic Church -- where my poor husband was born, raised, and educated -- seems to have taken the fork in the road that leads to Creepy about 3,000 miles ago.

This is just my opinion, though. I am not going to sit here and lob stones. It's not my place to judge a particular sect of a particular praise and worship team. What I'm wondering about is a deeper issue. Does a preponderance of good mitigate a smaller amount of evil? How much evil is too much? Can any praise and worship team be condemned solely on its bad deeds if it has also done good in the world?

If all this is too heavy for you to ponder, hey. I hear ya. Who do you think will win the World Series this year?

Sir, How Dare You Presume?

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" We're not about resurrecting people. We're about resurrecting deities! Whose culture is the "best" culture? Who's got the best gods? Even worse: Who has the only god?

We at "The Gods Are Bored" will today address remarks made by Pope Benedict in a recent encyclical. We lifted this quote from Jason, at The Wild Hunt. He lifted it from the encyclical.

"There are certain religious cultures in the world today that do not oblige men and women to live in communion but rather cut them off from one other in a search for individual well-being, limited to the gratification of psychological desires. Furthermore, a certain proliferation of different religious “paths”, attracting small groups or even single individuals, together with religious syncretism, can give rise to separation and disengagement. One possible negative effect of the process of globalization is the tendency to favour this kind of syncretism by encouraging forms of “religion” that, instead of bringing people together, alienate them from one another and distance them from reality. At the same time, some religious and cultural traditions persist which ossify society in rigid social groupings, in magical beliefs that fail to respect the dignity of the person, and in attitudes of subjugation to occult powers. In these contexts, love and truth have difficulty asserting themselves, and authentic development is impeded. For this reason, while it may be true that development needs the religions and cultures of different peoples, it is equally true that adequate discernment is needed. Religious freedom does not mean religious indifferentism, nor does it imply that all religions are equal.”

This is my site, and I am allowed to have an opinion.

My opinion is that all religions are equal.

Anyone who seeks the Divine and all goodness, by any path, through any pantheon of deities, through the Goddess, through a flock of buzzards, through any path, is holy.

Religion can separate and disengage one culture from another. This can be a good thing. It's certainly an ancient tradition, well-documented in such literature as, oh, I dunno ... the Bible?

For my money, Roman Catholicism does all of the following, as enumerated above:
1. Creates sanctioned small groups (monasteries/convents) and individual worship (hermits).
2. Alienates its followers from reality (sensible family planning/ right to die).
3. Ossifies its followers in rigid social groupings ( celibate male priests, monks, nuns/everyone else).
4. Magical beliefs that fail to respect the dignity of the person (ever heard of Catholic guilt?).
5. Attitudes of subjugation to occult powers. (Ahem, define "occult powers," please, because from where I stand, crowds cheering in St. Peter's square to a guy wearing a robe and a crown sure looks like cult behavior to me.)

In short, people who live in papal palaces shouldn't throw stones. Just because Catholicism has been around awhile, and has subjugated (often ruthlessly) many other praise and worship systems, doesn't make it the one and only religion that everyone on earth ought to follow.

I could go on and on. Papal encyclicals are always rich fodder for debate. I'll just conclude with Mr. Johnson's opinion -- he's a lapsed Catholic. He thinks the R.C. church is losing quality tithers to Pagan pathways, and the pope wants them back because he wants their largesse.

That's perhaps a tad too cynical. After all, the Catholic church does much good work in this world. You would think, then, that it might be able to tolerate, or at least ignore, people of other ... EQUAL ... faiths.

Big, Broad, Flexible Religion

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," contrarian politics and mish-mash religion since 2005! I'm Reverend Annie, senior minister. Pass the plate.

In just two days my daughter The Spare and I will embark for the Fairie Festival at Spoutwood Farm. If you live near Baltimore, Washington, York, PA or in that vicinity, won't you come and see us there? I am Leader of the Mountain Tribe.

The Maypole Ceremony begins at noon, so please come by 11:00 so we can all march in together! Dress like your favorite fairy, wear your kilt, bring your dog, smile, smile, smile! I can't wait to meet you!

The first year we attended the Fairie Festival, my daughter, my niece and I had to pass by a group of Christian protesters. They were loudly predicting hellfire and damnation for Pagans. Indeed they went so far as to say that anyone who entered the gates of the festival would surely fry. They were not numerous, but they were loud. And they had signs.

I remember one of them shouted: "May Day! May Day! That's what pilots yell just before they're killed in a crash! And that's what's gonna happen to you!"

Spare and I shrugged this off as pathetic. But I could see it bothered my niece, who is a quiet girl encased to the eyebrows in the Roman Catholic Church. Niece goes to Catholic school, where she is no doubt told that she'd better watch out for Pagan activities and avoid them like the swine flu.

My mind keeps wandering to these protesters as I prepare to take a role in the May Day ceremony at the festival. Make no mistake, that ceremony is Celtic, no trace of Christianity to be found whatsoever within it.

When the weather is nice, more than 10,000 people come to the festival each day. Quite a number of them are Pagans of one practice or another. But if all of them were Pagans, and all of them practiced the same Craft, that would just be astonishing. Even the people who gather at Stonehenge on the Solstices aren't all of one mind.

Looks like a job for "The Gods Are Bored."

I want everyone who joins the Mountain Tribe, whether they be Roman Catholic like my niece, Pentecostal like my sister (yes, WOW! She's coming!), or eclectic Druid, like Nettle, (who coincidentally has a terrific post up right now about the blending of religious practices) to feel welcome. And so, while preparing liturgy, I will be mindful that this is an opportunity to witness for the bored gods, but not at the expense of the busy ones.

What service will I perform for my deities or myself if I belittle anyone else's faith? I'll be no better than those misguided protesters by the entrance gate.

My Tribe's direction is North, and our holidays are Samhain and Yule. So we're going to sing "Deck the Halls." 'Tis the season to be jolly, not to play "my deities are better than yours."

It's my feeling that most people who attend festivals bring their religions with them, already formed. Those who don't have a religion may find one, those who don't like their religions might change to a new one, but this must be an organic matter between the individual and his or her conscience. Besides, this is a fun event. Actually, the fact that it is a fun event, with no religious coercion, probably works strongly in favor of the bored gods.

So join us, won't you please? Still wavering? You should see the awesome dragon who landed in the back seat of my car this afternoon! His name is Big Red, and he's going to the festival with us. I'll tell his story another time.

Virgin Mary on the Rocks

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," scanning the known universe for celestial beings worthy of worship! And today we will not need a telescope!

Hail Mary, full of Grace. Watch your back, go buy some mace.

Yesterday, Jason, over at The Wild Hunt posted numerous links to a radical Christian movement called the Third Wave/New Apostolic Reformation. Jason references a detailed article in The Huffington Post that links Sarah Palin to the Third Wavers.

As I read it, the Third Reich ... errrr ... Wave (sorry) lists as an agenda item the abolishment of Goddess worship worldwide. And no Goddess is too big or small to attract their righteous wrath.

They're out to get the Virgin Mary. Better known as the Blessed Mother. You know the prayer, for the love of fruit flies! She's the Mother of God, so far as the Roman Catholic Church is concerned.

To the rest of us, she's just Mother. Of everything. You have a boo-boo, She's got a Band-aid.

In the clear light of a sunny autumn afternoon, it's easy to dismiss the Third Wave and its newest prominent disciple, Mrs. Palin, as not having enough clout to stomp The Goddess. Heck, Our Lady made it through the first Protestant Reformation, and that was before She started doling out vaccinations and dinosaur fossils and all those scientific goodies that have generally advanced human knowledge a little bit.

We at "The Gods Are Bored" are not truly fearful for the Blessed Mother. But we think the Roman Catholic Church in America should be aware of the Third Wave, its aims, and ... its membership.

Cindy Jacobs is part of this anti-Goddess crowd. Her most recent book is called The New Reformation. And not for nothing is her website called "The Generals."

Mrs. Palin is of more immediate concern. She could be president. And if she becomes president, will she not conference with people like Cindy Jacobs, trying to find ways to advance the Third Reich ... oooops! There you go again, Anne! Third Wave agenda through legitimate government channels?

Imagine trying to be a worse vice president than Dick Cheney. What a daunting proposition! But doggone it, nothing is impossible, you betcha.

Okay. We've decided to tie a bell on the cat. Who's willing to alert the pope? Someone oughta tell him that a new Reformation is underway, and its umbrella reaches into his jurisdiction.

I know I'm peaching to the choir here at "The Gods Are Bored." These Third Wave "generals" will have to come at my house with a battering ram, and even then they won't oust The Goddess from my foyer.

May it be the same with you and yours.

I'm Anne Johnson, and I approved this message.

Faeries Do Not Like Catholic Hospitals

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" There's an autumn nip in the air this morning. Time for the faeries to stir their paint pots and start painting the leaves!

I recently had a little bit of orthopedic surgery, requiring a hospital stay of three days. The surgeon works out of a local Catholic hospital. I wasn't keen on getting the job done at the Catholic hospital, but I was keen on the surgeon. Word of mouth on the guy was stellar.

I figured my faeries would protect me from the Catholic vibe.

Bamp! Wrong.

When I went for my pre-op testing, I got stuck in the revolving door. It just ceased to function with me inside it. After about ten nerve-wracking seconds, the door worked again ... perfectly.

On the day of the surgery, I walked up to the same door and promptly tripped and nearly fell. "Okay," I think. "The faeries are making this crystal clear. They don't want me in this place."

I went anyway, because it's not wise to give in to faeries.

The surgery went well, and the next day Mr. Johnson and my daughter The Spare came to see me. The Spare brought one of my three main faeries, Princess, who lives in a glass orb that I wear around my neck. I was so glad to see Princess! But when I put her around my neck, the hemp string she hangs from suddenly irritated my skin in a way it never had before. This was not a case of the opiate itchies. The hemp was scratchy. After only about an hour, I had to take Princess off. The following day, The Spare took Princess home. I've had no further problems with the hemp irritating my skin.

You might remember that while I was gone I had a guest blogger named Muin. I discussed this faerie situation with him when I got home. He said absolutely the faeries do not want to be immersed in a Catholic environment, because they feel keenly the abuse, derision, and downright pilfering of personas they've suffered at the hands of Christian clerics.

Here's some free advice. If you have to go to a Catholic hospital, tell your faeries you'll see them when you get home. Give them a tricky riddle to keep them occupied, and a libation of wine to satisfy their thirst. Otherwise, not only will they be ticked at having to go with you, they'll also make a mess of your house.

You should see my home office. The faeries ran amok, and I'm not yet physically able to clean up the wreckage. (Must admit Spare has helped with the chaos in this respect. Probably inspired by ticked-off faeries.)

The moral of this sermon: You may have a big, broad, flexible attitude yourself, but don't expect faeries to follow suit.

FROM ANNE

THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS

Faerie art by Seitou

Other

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where OTHER gods in OTHER rooms and OTHER heavens get to have their say!

In one week I will be going to the hospital for inpatient orthopedic surgery. The surgeon in my health plan works out of the local Roman Catholic hospital in Camden, New Jersey.

Today I went to the hospital in for my preliminary blood work, etc. I wore my second favorite Tinker Bell t-shirt and brought along my faerie named Aine.

The enormous revolving door inexplicably shut down with me in the middle, unable to get into the building or out of it. Ten seconds later it started moving again. So is that God telling me to stay the hell out, or the bored gods telling me not to go in?

I went in.

So I'm having my admission interview, with Mr. Johnson standing behind me (ever the protective mate). The nice hospital lady is clicking away on the computer, and she says, "Religion?"

And I say, "Druid. D-R-U-I-D."

(Mr. Johnson, an unrepentant lapsed Catholic, shoves me in the back. So much for the protective mate.)

Nice lady stares at screen. Long pause. "We don't have that," she says.

So I say, "Pagan."

(No shove from spouse this time. He's given up.)

Nice lady examines the screen again. Long pause. Finally she chirps, "I'll just check 'Other.'"

Can I be the first Pagan ever to check into Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Camden, New Jersey? From the top floors of the hospital you can see Center City Philadelphia!

I wish I had thought to say "Santeria." Just to see if that would be a first, too.

Back to the waiting room we go, and Mr. Johnson whispers, "Why did you do that?"

And I say, "Because it's my religion, silly. Where do you think I go eight times a year, with the Heir and the Spare and a cooler full of fried chicken? To Druid Grove!"

And Mr. Johnson (who knows a lot more about Catholicism than I do) says, "Now they're gonna neglect you and probably kill you."

Ya think he's a little nervous about all this? Or do you think the Roman Catholics have never gotten over their penchant for slaughtering Pagans? I opt for the spousal nerves. With hope in my heart.

I did have an interesting dream last night. I was driving in a car with my dad, in the mountains that we called home. I looked out the window as the beautiful vistas stretched out, and I said, "Oh my, it's so good to be home." Our destination was a big family reunion, which I knew to be my family but didn't know any of them by name. Dad knew them all, though. And typical with hillbilly family reunions, every table groaned with food -- the most gorgeous cakes I'd ever seen.

The dream, I think, is a message from my ancestors that if anything does go wrong, I'll shortly join them at home.

In the meantime, I'm an "Other." But I already knew that.

Another One Bites the Crust

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" When the going gets overwhelming, the overwhelmed rush to the computer to blog! Dirty house? Why clean it? Just gonna get dirty again.

I have a darling little nephew-in-law with blonde hair and dimples to die for. He likes Star Wars and computer games. He has a dog named Sport and a cat named Queenie. He lives in Baltimore.

Today he is receiving his first holy communion from the Roman Catholic Church. Mr. Johnson and I were reminded to send a card, but we weren't invited to the festivities. Which is just as well, because I'm not gonna let my niece and nephew grow into adulthood without at least being given a teaspoon of the Big, Broad, Flexible Outlook. And Mr. Johnson's family knows it.

Part of first communion is going to confession for the first time. Mr. Johnson is a lapsed Catholic, and he remembers that when his first communion came, he thought up a lot of lies and just let 'em rip.

But my little nephew-in-law has too good of a heart to do that. Once when his stupid-ass school was having yet another fundraiser, he emptied his piggybank and, unbeknownst to his struggling parents, took the money and gave it to the school principal. (I think he was in kindergarten at the time.) To her credit, the principal called Nephew's mom and returned the dough. I guess that's one less stitch that Pope Rat got in his royal robe.

Oh, my heart is heavy, thinking of that poor little sweet boy, ushered into some dark box with some big old man on the other side of a grate, waiting to hear about bad things! I wanna go save him! Let me go in the box instead!

Anne: Don't bother blessing me, father, because my sins are my business. I've never confessed before, and I don't plan to again.

Father X: You will go to hell.

Anne: You know who's really gonna go to hell? Creepy priests who expect seven-year-olds to have sins to report! What could my nephew have done? He even cleans the cat box! Lissen, padre. You leave my nephew alone. If you cause even one dimple to lose its pop on that kid, I'm gonna enroll him in De Molay and pay his dues and take him to meetings!

Father X: Are you threatening to indoctrinate a good Catholic boy with occult Masonic ideas?

Anne: Why stop there? I think he'd make a great Druid. And the Masons would still take him, so we're good to go.

Whew. I feel so much better now. If you can't act out in real time, the computer is the next best thing.

Fly on the Wall

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Did you get your taxes done on time? Remember, the nation needs your money to build democracies in countries far, far, away ... by force if necessary!

Today a momentous event is taking place. Pope Benedict the Whatever is having a private afternoon visit with our Fearless Leader and (one presumes) the wife, perhaps the Vice Fearless Leader and his wife. (But, one presumes, not VFL's gay daughter and her wife.)

So, let's be a fly on the wall and listen in as the Supreme Pontiff chats with George W. Bush et. al.!

GWB: Well, come on in, Mr. Pope! Nice to see ya.

Pope: Always a pleasure, Mr. President.

GWB: And here's my Laura ... say hello to the pope, honey.

Laura: Hello, Your Holiness. Oh my goodness, that's a beautiful robe. Did you see his robe, Georgie? Look at all that fabulous embroidery!

Pope: It's all done by hand, stitch by stitch.

GWB: Well, those Chinese laborers sure know how to work hard.

Pope: No, this is done by cloistered nuns.

GWB: You could get it done cheaper in China, I'll bet. Want me to look into it for you?

Dick Cheney: I'm sure I could find you a cheaper contractor, Your Richness. In fact, I could probably get you all the goods, services, and protection you currently use at half the cost.

Pope: I'll admit it's harder to find good, quiet, sewing nuns these days.

Cheney: Now see? We can help you with that.

Laura: Tea, Your Holiness?

Pope: Yes, please.

Laura: One lump or two?

Pope: Sixteen, please.

GWB: My kinda guy. So, Mr. Pope, how's the weather in France?

Pope: I don't know.

Cheney (to Bush): You mean Rome.

GWB: Oh! My bad. I meant Rome. How's the weather in Rome?

Pope: Quite pleasant. I'm hoping the weather will be nice for my outdoor Mass at Yankee Stadium this week.

Cheney: Not a problem, sir. This gives us an excellent opportunity to test a new secret weapon that alters the weather at the push of a button. We've been using it to stir up storms, but it also works the other way around.

GWB (to the pope): You'll of course keep this a secret.

Pope: Oh my yes. I'll give credit to God for the sunshine!

Cheney: I like the way this guy thinks.

Pope: Since I am the most direct route to God of anyone on the planet, I wonder if any of you would like me to recommend any particular prayer requests to the Almighty?

Laura: They say this mild winter we just had will be hard on the roses out in the garden. Can God fix that for us?

Pope: Consider it done.

(GWB is thinking hard.)

Cheney: I have a little matter that's troubling me. Awhile back I accidentally shot a good friend in the face during a hunting expedition. My friend is going in for plastic surgery. Can you see that it goes well?

Pope: Just ask for the Lord's help and it is granted. Your pal will come out of surgery looking like Cary Grant.

Laura: Oh, I like that one! Honey, do you have any special prayers you'd like the pope to say for you?

GWB: Well, I don't like to seem impolite, but I can't think of a doggone thing I'd want you to pray for on my behalf, Mr. Pope. Oh no, now wait a minute. I've got this problem in my knee, it comes and goes, but you know, I just love mountain biking. Could God patch up my knee?

Pope: Done, good as new!

GWB: It feels better already! I'm a believer, Hail Mary!

Cheney: Your Holiness, the better question might be, what can we do for you?

Pope: Just keep up that wonderful government-subsidized abstinence education! It's a model for the world.

The First Estate

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" You can read here for free, but if you want a piece of pie you'll have to give me $2.50. After all, as our Fearless Leader noted today, the economy is slowing just a little bit.

I make good pie, so it's worth the investment.

Maybe about two years ago I found myself visiting the in-laws on the night when their local Roman Catholic private school was having its annual fundraiser. Since my niece and nephew attend the school, I was given to understand (in a nice way, my i-l's are swell) that if I wanted to eat I'd have to buy the goods at the fair.

The eats were so-so and pretty pricey, but I found little to quibble with about that Catholic School fundraising fair. First of all, you could buy beer and wine, as much as you wanted, or until your dough ran out. Then there was the gambling. Roulette and Bingo till the wee hours. And the schoolgrounds were jumpin', let me tell ya. It was so crowded that my brother-in-law gallantly stood in line for all the beer, all the time.

That left my sis-in-law and myself together at a picnic table. We rarely get to talk alone, so it was nice.

I said to her, "Golly, this fair must pull in heaps of largesse for your school! Look at this place!"

She replied: "Not really. We have to send half of all our profits to the Vatican."

I said: "My dear, surely you jest! You pay tuition here, and this fundraiser covers the rest, but you have to give up half the money to that fat guy in the white gown?"

I said it just like that. My sister-in-law knows me.

S-i-l said: "Did you know that just one of those Cardinal's robes costs $30,000? They need the money from these fundraisers to pay for that lavish stuff."

Yes, she was bitter. And I was glad, because I felt free -- especially after several expensive cold Budweisers -- to vent freely about her church.

(What I didn't tell her is how I plan to work with my niece and nephew when they get older so that they lapse brilliantly.)

I was reminded of this incident day before yesterday when I read the Philadelphia Daily News. A young Hispanic girl is spending her senior year of high school working in a pizza parlor because her parents have an outstanding bill at a Catholic school in Philly called "Little Flower School." The girl's parents owe the school $4800.

(I'm not bothering to link you to Little Flower, because they have a deliberately user-unfriendly site that makes it impossible to send nasty emails. Trust me on that one. I really wanted to crack on them.)

Not only can this girl not attend her parochial school, she also cannot attend public school, because the LITTLE F***** FLOWER POPE-CLOTHIER will not release her transcripts until the bill is paid!

This girl's parents aren't scofflaws. Her dad had a massive heart attack and had to go on disability. They have offered to work out a payment plan to discharge the debt.

When the Daily News reporter called the school, this is what the Catholic Church had to say about its tuition students:

1. We give lots of scholarship money out. You never write about that.

2. If we didn't have this no-transcript policy, our students would bail to the publics and leave us with unpaid tuition.

3. We do not negotiate payment plans, because after students graduate, their parents don't pay up.

Someone please tell me how anyone could kneel to such a church. They are ruining a young girl's life in the name of collecting $4800, of which presumably $2400 will go to the Vatican to buy pretty red robes. And I love the trust they place in parents and students who are supposed to be educated to the plimsol line with sound Catholic doctrine.

The girl's mother says this is testing their faith in God. If you ask me, they ought to flunk that test and go looking for a better god.

"Gods Are Bored" Halloween Poll: You Decide

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," coming to you live and livid on Halloween!

Just carved four pumpkins in 90 minutes (no record, I'm sure). "Gnome Henge" (circle of lawn gnomes) firmly established in front yard, with the pumpkins facing the Four Quarters.

It's just barely warm enough to put Decibel the Parrot on the front porch to greet the Trick or Treaters. On his cage is a sign featuring Captain Jack Sparrow and saying, "Don't Touch Me Parrot, Mate."

Last year the sign said, "Fingers. The Other White Meat."

The year before that it said, "Got Fingers?"

Two decades ago I wouldn't have dreamed of having a tropical parrot on the porch at Halloween. It was too cold. But Decibel likes to laugh when he isn't screaming loud enough to be heard two blocks away, so he enjoys the Trick or Treaters.

Do not construe this as a defense of global warming.

Okay. I have to explain my "Gods Are Bored" poll. You the reader will decide what I should do!

This afternoon I arrived at the Middle School in my economy car to find my daughter The Spare and seven of her friends awaiting a ride across town to our home. You do the math. One of them asked to go in the trunk, for the love of fruit flies! Thankfully, the Fighting Wombat Mascot costume is in the trunk, and you know economy cars. There ain't room for much else if you've got a Wombat costume in the trunk.

I stuffed five kids in the car. The other two volunteered to walk, which was pretty doggone knightly of them.

So I'm driving with a tall 8th grade boy next to me in the front passenger seat. I've never met him, but he's nerdy enough. He gets a cell call from his mom. She reminds him that he has to be at All Souls' Mass at 7:00 p.m.

EXCUUUUUUUUSE ME???????

Maybe I've been under a rock too long. I didn't know that Roman Catholics actually have a SPECIAL MASS on Halloween.

I've got no truck with "Mr. Applegate," my infrequent guest-blogger (and whiner extraordinaire), but oh please! A Christian Mass on Halloween?

So I'm in the kitchen, carving pumpkins, and thinking about the Roman Catholic church. There's a pretty gray brick one standing one block from my house.

I picture all the most raccoon-ravaged Catholics converging on the sanctuary at 7:00 to participate in a ceremony that has NOTHING TO DO WITH THEIR FAITH AT ALL.

And it occurs to me to create a sign that says:

"Halloween is a Pagan holiday. We want it back!"

... and discreetly tape it to the church door during the service.

Yeah, I would wear black clothes and run like an arthritic, bursitic geezer rabbit, so don't paint me as a modern Martin Luther or anything.

Trouble is, I'm conflicted about this. Should I do it or not?

It's too late to make a decision this year. That's why I'm leaving it up to you, dear reader.

Should I do the semi-demi-mini Martin Luther thing, or not, next year at Halloween 2008?

Vote with the Comment button. Vote early and often and pro Green Party.

FROM ANNE

PAGAN NEIGHBOR TO CHRIST THE KING CHURCH OF SNOBVILLE, USA

PS - I was pretty tired when I came home from work today (yeah, working on a High Holy Day ... my deities understand I need the dough). But this little bit of info galvanized me, and the Johnson Personal Samhain Ritual is a GO.

We want our holy day back.

Another extra: I just answered the door to a Trick or Treater, about seven years of age, all alone, dressed in a tie-dyed shirt and round sunglasses. Taped to his shirt: "Long Live John Lennon."

I think I'm going to run out of candy. That kid just walked off with the motherlode.