The Magical Battle for America August 2017

All hail and welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!"

Gods bless America, land that I love!

Stand beside her, and guide her, through the night with a light from above.

From the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans, white with foam...

Gods bless America, our home sweet home ...

Gods bless America, our home sweet home!

Beginning this spring, a group of loosely affiliated Pagans has been performing an intentional work called The Magical Battle for America. You can find the work by scrolling on this site.

When I first started this blog, I wrote with extreme snark about Christian "prayer warriors" who, in between passing the plate, are actively fighting to turn the United States into a "Christian nation."

Whoever thought these creepy evangelicals would achieve power? But they have, and they're still praying.

Do I sound paranoid? What do you think the chances were of a new Supreme Court appointee who is even more right-wing than Scalia? Who promoted Neil Gorsuch loudly and passionately? The prayer warriors. They've been working on this a long time. And look how they accomplished it! Doesn't the whole thing seem sketchy to you? These people are fighting to turn this country into a theocracy.

Think I'm kidding? Here is their web site.

Well, if it's a fight they want (contrary to what their humble Christ would counsel), a fight they will get. The Magical Battle for America is concentrating energy based on American heroes and heroines, tricksters and magical animals, led at the apex by the Goddess Columbia. If you don't know the first thing about the astral plane, you can add your energy just by meditating on Saturday evenings. That's when we do our directed mutual work. But you can practice this any time, in any way. Every voice raised means so much.

Call upon your deities and your values. Visualize the nation you want to live in. Help us make the magic we need to achieve peace, equality, and personal agency for everyone.

Someone might say, "Well, Anne, you speak of peace, but you show pictures of deities who are ready for battle!" Yes! So I do.

So do they.

It's not funny anymore.

Reason Prevails: The Menorah Is Gone

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," waging a bittersweet war for the U.S. Constitution during this holiday season. Gains have been made.

The gain is that the Jewish group who erected the large menorah on public property has taken it down.

I'm sorry they had to do it, but they had to do it. My guess is that they did it with a clear understanding of the importance of keeping church and state separate.

Is there any living group of people in the Western World who has suffered more than the Jews in matters pertaining to religion? They are the only people who can connect, in living memory, to a time when their people were systematically and brutally exterminated simply because of their religion. If you can remember a time when you or your family, or all of your family and friends and distant cousins, were rounded up and killed, you might be more amenable to our national Constitution's protections and strictures.

It only took three copies of the U.S. Constitution, with the Establishment Clause highlighted in green marker and the tract folded to that page, to get the Chabad synagogue to reconsider the placement of its electric menorah.

The manger scene is still under the Christmas tree on borough property, but this morning when I dropped off the fourth copy of the Constitution, I noticed that the display was not lit up by the spotlight that had been lit for the past week. At least they've pulled the plug on my taxes illuminating baby Jesus.

Knowing Snobville as I do (it's chock-a-block with lawyers, for one thing), I'll bet the nativity scene gets pulled right after December 25. Then it will only be a matter of going to a city council meeting and respectfully reminding the burghers that they must abide by the rules of 1787, like them or not, during future holidays.

Solstice ritual tomorrow. Gosh -- public property! The local grove of oaks along the pond! Well, I just won't leave any trace behind of the work that is done.

Fa La La, Okay, I Enlisted!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," waging the War on Christmas since this afternoon at 3:30!

Yes, yes, I am now a Constitutional Navy Seal, and the word is out. Trust me, the word is out.

Yesterday I wrote about a nativity scene that is displayed on public property in my borough, close to the street. There's also a menorah about 50 feet away. I guess the big ol' committee of three (mayor, two councilmen) decided that if they included the menorah, there couldn't possibly be an outcry about a religious display on public property.

Well, my lieblings, I'm a taxpayer here in Snobville, and they don't call it Snobville for nothing. Next year my property taxes will crest $12,000 (yes THOUSAND) a year. And I live in a modest house! For real! This is New Jersey. The people who live in Camden's Tent City have to pay high-roller taxes. I can't imagine what the real snobs in Snobville pay. But I guess it doesn't matter to them. Once you're rich, you're really rich, and you can afford any unreasonable tally.

I'm not that rich. I may have to move.

In the meantime ...

It was a cold, crisp afternoon, so I decided to walk up to the grocery store. I shoved a few copies of the United States Constitution into my pocket and set out on my walk.

On my way I passed a Roman Catholic church and school. In front of the school was a very modest nativity scene.

Two blocks later, I arrived at the public library grounds.

There was a woman on her knees, photographing the nativity scene. This seemed weird to me, because it's not a special, expensive nativity scene like the one up on Main Street in front of the Baptist church. It's just a mid-sized nativity scene in 1970's era plastic.

When she noticed me, she turned around and said, "Oh hi, isn't this great? They didn't used to have this in Snobville. I'm a Catholic, and I think this is great!"

To which I replied: "I'm a Pagan, and I don't think it's great at all."

I opened my copy of the Constitution, read the Establishment Clause out loud, folded the little tract so it would fall open to said Amendment, and placed it in the "stable." I said to the astonished female. "I don't see a Pentagram on this property."

She said, "But it's Christmas."

I said, "I pay taxes in this borough, and this is unconstitutional."

Then I walked up to the menorah and placed another tract, similarly folded, at the base of the lights.

Readers, you have to trust me. I have nothing. NOTHING against the religions in question. They just don't belong on property that is paid for by my big, fat Pagan tax bill!

Here's how the war starts.

I walked on to the grocery store, made my purchases, and walked back past the library. No surprise at all, the copies of the Constitution had been removed from both the menorah and the nativity scene. But the funny thing was, the woman was still there, illegally parked, texting away in her car!

All hands on Deck the halls! I can just imagine the content of those texts. War on Christmas! Evil Pagans on the march! Gotta protect the Jesus shrine!

They have met their match.

First of all, I have about 100 copies of the U.S. Constitution in a bag in my room. They were free. Every day I leave for work at 6:30 in the morning. It will be a simple matter to add another 8 minutes to my commute to drop off a Bill of Rights for Jesus and Yahweh before Father Sol rises in the east. Figuring I get off work at 3:30, I can drop off another set around 4:00 p.m. And on nights when the daughters and I are out looking for Crazy Christmas Houses, I can make a third foray.

I'll leave this next part up to your discretion, readers, so please reply.

It would be a very simple matter for me to create a Flying Spaghetti Monster out of pasta and some cocktail toothpicks The Spare bought for her dinner soiree that she held last night. What do you think? Should I place Our Noodly Master on the stable roof on December 24? Your call.

My walk home brought me back past the nativity scene in front of the RC Church. NO FREAKIN PROBLEM, LIEBLINGS. That's where it belongs! My taxes don't support that church!

Tomorrow morning I will send a strongly worded letter to our mayor and city council regarding the religious displays on public property. I will NOT request the addition of a Pentagram. It doesn't belong there any more than the creche. I will say that there are taxpayers in Snobville who object to religious displays on public property, please do not include these displays in the future.

You know what? I'm on solid ground with this here in Snobville. I'm sure there are many taxpayers who feel the same way, and many of them are monotheists.

Ramen!

Return to Sender

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Last night was a big night here in Snobville. It's "Spirit Week" (wow, just got the double meaning of that!), and the classes at Snobville High participated in their usual competitions, which encourage rivalry in the name of making money for charities and food banks.

My daughter The Spare is a Senior. She has always lived and breathed Spirit Week, but never more than this time -- her swan song as the driving force of the Spirit Week Committee, Class of 2012.

Spare's class chose "Lord of the Rings" as their hallway theme. And she buckled down to work. And they won.

Her contributions ran from the sublime to the ridiculous. In no particular order:

1. Both of my formal Druid Ritual robes. With my warm blessings.
2. A beautiful hand-crafted leather mask I just bought, giving to my sister for the holidays.
3. Costumes made of sheets and tablecloths from the thrift store.
4. A large piece of Astroturf from Lakewood High, Lakewood, Ohio ... scavenged from our property on Polish Mountain.
5. The contents of my china closet, more or less. I hope she didn't take the champagne glasses.
6. Each and every piece of colonial "kit" wear we amassed over a decade of doing Revolutionary War encampments.
7. Faerie wear, all of it.
8. An old bottle we scavenged from Polish Mountain, as above.
9. Two enormous banners that she painted without any help.
10. A Treebeard costume that could go right onstage.
11. Our outdoor fire bowl AND firewood!
12. Kid-sized furniture that has followed me through life somehow, and
13. An enormous amount of sweat equity.

Spare may not rock when it comes to cleaning her room, but tell her to make a hallway look like Middle Earth, and she will deliver! I was extremely proud of her!

On to the sermon:

November 23 marks the end of the Dominionist assault on the Goddess Columbia and our First Amendment rights, at least in its formal stage. I'm not much at math, but I can't understand how they got so far ahead of me that they were able to spend Samhain in Washington, DC ("C" as in Columbia) and eleven days in Philly, while I'm only up to Missouri!

I don't know how you roll, but I'm seeing some synchronicity between DC40's ruthless prayer vigil and the Occupy Movement. It's almost as if people everywhere are feeling the negative vibe of theocracy and are stepping up to stop it, in the name of democracy. Occupy is about more than unemployment and unfair business tactics. It's about bringing our nation into balance through the right to peaceably assemble, which (by cracky!) is also in the text of the First Amendment!

I'm sure to have lots to say about Occupy in the months to come, but this sermon contains an effort to diffuse dark magick.

I found this lovely and effective spell on Facebook. The more of us doing it, the better. The best times for it will be from midnight Wednesday to sundown on Thursday. This is close enough to the Full Moon to effect a new beginning, but far enough from a Mercury Retrograde to enact any unforseen consequences.

This is a send-back spell, meant to contain no more malice than you would expend upon a pair of shoes you ordered online and need to return because they don't fit. The merchant usually makes these returns very easy, so that you feel no bad humor. Please enter into this spell with that mindset: Something has come to you and your state. That something doesn't fit. Return to Sender, postage paid.

You can say this spell or write it on paper that you consign to air, fire, earth, or water. Pay heed to your sense of calm. You are diffusing ardor, and calmness is the best way to do that.

Spell as follows:

By the Power of (Insert favorite matron/patron/nature deity here) all negative prayers and curses issued by the New Apostolic Reformation, including all so called prayer intercessors who took part in the DC40/51 Days of Reformation Intercession campaign between October 3rd, 2011 and November 22nd, 2011 shall be returned to their source and origin intact exactly as they were sent. By the Power of (insert favorite deity here) and the Powers of The Queen of Heaven, Columbia, Lady Liberty and Nemesis, so mote it be. 



"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

First Amendment, United States Constitution, 1791

Michigan: What Are You Thinking?

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," resuming in a less structured way our push-back against the ultra-fringe Dominionists who would like to insert God into our government. Thomas Jefferson would order these people deported back to the countries from which their ancestors fled (escaping religious persecution).

I lived in Michigan for four years, and while I was there I was treated extremely kindly on more than one occasion by Christian people. I found, as a white Detroiter, that I was occasionally in a situation where I got bullied for being white. One of those times was when I went to hear Archbishop Desmond Tutu speak at the Ford Arena. While waiting outside, I was told to leave by a group of men who thought I shouldn't be there. A lovely bunch of church ladies, dressed in their best hats, took me in and invited me to sit with them. I have never forgotten that. They even took the trouble to scold the guys who were trying to keep the white woman from hearing Desmond Tutu! And trust me, I still remember Tutu's speech. What an awesome man!

Now, I was going to begin and end with this happy story. But the peerless Jason Pitzl-Waters (see link in my blog, The Wild Hunt) has alerted us to "anti-bullying" legislation in Michigan that would exempt bullying of a religious or moral nature.

For the love of fruit flies! Those guys at Ford Arena would have had the right to bully me right out of seeing Desmond Tutu! They proudly told me that they had marched in Selma, and this was their moment. That certainly is moral grounds for me not to be there.

This is more serious than my own little story, though.

How easy would it be for a dedicated bully to find moral or religious grounds to whomp a kid?

Well, I dunno ... Let's ask Hitler.

I would submit that a good bit of bullying occurs over religious issues, or at least it already gives bullies a pulpit for their actions. Michigan, your law has a big hole in it that you had better patch. Pagan, Arabic, and Jewish Michiganders had better get on this one, or it will be their kids who get jumped, harassed, intimidated, and hazed.

New Jersey has one of the strictest anti-bullying laws around, and as a teacher it makes my job way harder. I have to be alert to every kind of bullying, not exempting trash talk to the kid who comes to school wearing a pentagram. Come on, Michigan. Get real. Go get your trowel and a good batch of cement, and plug that hole.

Here's a fun thing we did in Michigan that I have also never forgotten. When someone wanted to show you how to get to Saginaw from Detroit, he or she would hold up the palm of his or her hand and point from the wrist bone (Detroit) to the lower thumb (Saginaw). If you wanted to go to Traverse City, that's on the pinky.

Okay, got to run. Teacher meeting on bullying!

Wisconsin Came First

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," proudly serving the 99% since 2005!

Unless you're an ostrich, you have noticed a growing swell of unrest in our country. The unrest stems from workers being downsized or gouged for wage give-backs ... and the educated unemployed (many with onerous college loans) demanding more equitable treatment.

This isn't going to go away. When you don't have a job -- or you are off for a few weeks in the summer -- you have plenty of time to protest.

In my humble opinion, the images of Wisconsin teachers rallying in the state capital in protest of attacks on their collective bargaining rights was the shot fired over the bow that started the whole Occupy movement. Madison, you gave us an image of hard-working people, people who hold the future of America in their hands every day, becoming furious at broken promises and wealthy string-pullers behind the scenes.

I am old enough to remember other protest movements. They were successful. The more strident the reaction to protesters, the more sympathy the protesters accrue. Trust me, every school teacher everywhere watched the news out of Wisconsin every night, or read about it in the few remaining newspapers. More importantly, other labor unions were watching too.

We are entering a period of instability, and as with all protests, the most active ones will be young people -- college graduates who feel duped by the high tuition, untenured adjunct professors, and zero job prospects in the real world.

In keeping with our state-by-state mop-up after the black magicians seeking to destroy democracy, I pose a rhetorical question: What would Jesus say about America's plight right now?

Here's what I think. I think he would wring his hands and try to drum up enough food for the people around him in his little sphere of influence, hoping that these people -- inspired by his example -- would themselves go out and pay it forward.

I don't get the sense that the DC40 crowd considers itself part of the 99%. I don't get the sense that they care about the poor, the tired, or the huddled masses longing to be free. (Duh! Of course they don't! That's what's engraved on the Goddess monument in New York's harbor!)

As in Madison, so in the rest of America. It cannot go on like this. We don't want to burn down mansions. We want equity. We want to work for a decent wage. We want our children to work and to live in a country where they can assemble for redress of grievances.

If we took all the God stuff off the table, even the Tea Party would be with us. All we want is for things to be fair.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. --Full text, First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

On, Wisconsin. We are the 99 %.

California Condor: God of the Skies

Dispensing with the formal greeting today. Moving right on to worship of the Sacred Thunderbird.

First, a little navel-gazing.

I have worshiped vultures since I was a teenager. For many years (and even now) this religious devotion has run parallel to whatever other deities I praise and worship. However, having achieved the wisdom of a half century, I now choose to center my most important devotions around Vulture.

This puts me more within the Native American worldview than the European. There are numerous songs and dances, stories and Rituals, surrounding the Peace Eagle (aka Vulture) among Native American groups all across America. Especially in the Pacific Northwest, where the California condor was once widespread and majestic (wingspan of 10 feet -- think about it).

EXHIBIT A: GOD

In 1984 I went to the San Diego Wildlife Park, where a captive breeding program had begun for California condors. I wrote an article about the efforts for the Detroit Free Press. Since I had a press pass, the biologists let me go see the "Condorminium." It was a huge, netted area where they kept the condors they were trying to breed.

Needless to say, even a glimpse of these deities from afar, in a flight cage, had immense meaning for me. (We couldn't go close, because the biologists didn't want the condors to become used to people.) Mr. Johnson could hardly live with me for weeks thereafter. Rapture? Forget about Rapture! Give me a Raptor!

At its lowest point of population, the California condor dipped to just 27 individuals. They were rounded up and kept in San Diego. Some creatures might not like being in a flight cage, but the condors are pretty happy with their dependable supply of carcasses. They have been making whoopie for 25 years.

We can be cautiously optimistic about this deity. The Sacred Thunderbird of California now is represented by approximately 400 individuals, some of them in the wild. They have been released in the Grand Canyon, where there are no power lines or hunters. Efforts are underway, partly funded by the Yurok Indians, to release condors in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, where carcasses are abundant and there are traditions of condor Ritual worship.

Angels and faeries are purported to be able to fly. Vultures can do it visibly and gracefully. No skeptical atheist can scoff at the flight of Vulture. It is magnificent.

None of us will live to see a California condor pair soar over our heads in the rugged wilds of America. But it's a comfort to me to know that the species is making a comeback.

Honestly, think about it. If you looked up and saw a bird with a ten-foot wingspan glide silently past, wouldn't you feel that you were in the presence of something greater than yourself?

I can ony speak for myself, but ... As for me and my house, we will worship Vulture.

Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. First clause of the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights of the United States Constitution.

Hail Vulture, the visible Higher Power!

Kansas: Birthplace of a Brand New God!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored! What is Kansas famous for, my friends? Why, Dorothy, the Tin Man, and Glenda, the Good Witch, that's what! But more recently, Kansas has become the birthplace of a fabulous new deity Whose followers have grown so numerous that you can find them in every state! And today we are blessed with an interview with our Noodly Master, the Flying Spaghetti Monster! Please give Him/Her/It a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome!

Anne: Arrrggghghhg! Avast, matey! How be you today?

FSM: That's what fills my pasta bowl. Respect! You speak in pirate, which is required of all My disciples.

Anne: Well, I'll give it the old heave-ho try, Noodly Master.  Arrr, can You hoist the top'sl and tell us how You came to the attention of Americans everywhere?

FSM: The Kansas Board of Education declared that teachers would be required to tell students the false story of some god who created the world in six days. False, false, false! I created the world. Me, the Flying Spaghetti Monster! It was a complicated process. Very scientific. With meatballs.

Anne: Arrr, speak, matey, about how this boiled over to the Kansas Board of Education?

FSM: One of My disciples wrote a strongly-worded letter to the KBE, declaring that students who were taught about Genesis in science class should actually learn about Me instead, since I'm the One who got the meatball rolling, turned down the simmering seas, and touched humankind with my Noodly Appendage. This concerned disciple said that he was dismayed that students would be taught lies, when they could learn about the scientific principles behind My Godhood. It's not fair to teach one bogus creation story when there's a True One out there.

Anne: My readers can see the whole revealed religion here. And, arrghghgh, while I'm lashing landlubbers to the mast, I'll wave my cutlass at that ship of fools called DC40, who couldn't even slash and burn themselves into a dot.org! You, Noodly Master, are a certified, nonprofit religion!

FSM: Recruiting pirates and wenches everywhere, especially around Halloween!

Anne: Flying Spaghetti Monster, You have some powerful enemies. Not terribly bright, but powerful nonetheless. They'd like to simmer the al dente right out of You.

FSM: Not a chance of that! Knowledge is Power! And please note that many of My disciples were atheists until they found Me. These disciples are some of My most ardent! I am definitely ready to serve the millions!

Anne: Arrghghg! And a goodly feast t'would be too! Please accept my gift of virgin olive oil, O Noodly One!

FSM: I am pleased by this. Anne Johnson, from here to the day of your death, you will never eat a bad pasta dinner ... ever.

Anne: Considering that I live in New Jersey, and there's an Italian restaurant on every corner, that's a pretty scientific prediction. Noodly Master, look at this brilliant portrayal of Yourself by disciple TJ Morgan of Atheist Nexis!

FSM: That's a recent rendering. I'm boiling over that those idol-worshiping Christian fringe wingnuts would want the District of Columbia to be the District of Christ, and not the District of the Flying Spaghetti Monster!

Anne: District of the Flying Spaghetti Monster! Arrrghgh! That has a certain ring to it, it does! We could require the president to wear a frock coat and a feather in his pirate hat during his inauguration! (The irony of this does not escape me.)

FSM: My disciples will see that this is done. They are praying about it even as we speak.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.
This includes, and could for my money be limited to, the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster!
Pray on, pirates!

Almost Heaven, West Virginia

As always, howdy howdy howdy from "The Gods Are Bored!" How are y'all?

Well, I think I'm a day behind the bell-ringing black magicians who want to void our Constitution and declare American dependence upon Jesus Christ. But that's okay! Consider me the cute little janitor who mops up after Mr. Peabody's and Sherman's big parade!

Whoa, sports fans. That sure dates me, doesn't it?

West Virginia is the state that needs cleansing today. To this I am firmly dedicated. You see, my conversion to Paganism became official in West Virginia. And when I need to meditate with the Salmon of Wisdom, it is to West Virginia that I return.

Little U.S. history here: When the Civil War began, Virginia seceded from the Union. But fully half the state consisted of rugged mountaineers who farmed difficult terrain for a subsistence living, using only themselves and their children as the workers. These people did not support slavery. So they didn't want to secede. Magnanimous President Lincoln declared them a state all unto themselves. And if ever a division of territory was meet and just, this was the occasion.

As for my conversion to Paganism, it was a slow process, beginning with connection to the Divine Feminine through the Blessed Mother of God. Which of course has no place in Methodism, except for the teenager who gets to dress up like Mary for the Xmas pageant.

More and more I began to pray to the Blessed Mother. More and more I began to feel Faerie all around me. I read up on Discordianism (a real favorite) and began to explore the Druid path. But slowly.

Then it hit.

My dad broke his hip. He was in end stages of Parkinson's Disease. When I went to see him in the nursing home, he told me he saw Peter Pan in the doorway of his room, "just standing there, with his hands on his hips."

Shaken by the sight of my dad in his last days, I got in his car and drove to Berkeley Springs, WV. For years I had been dreaming of a sacred spring that would heal my sorrows. Literally, readers. Years. In my dreams I was always looking for it. Little did I know that it was Berkeley Springs, a town near where I grew up, but just far enough away that I only went there at night, for away football games.

By day I discovered that Berkeley Springs is a warm springs (charming place), and for twenty bucks you can bathe in a huge tub of heated springwater.

It's like that tub of Berkeley Springs water just washed away the Fertile Crescent god entirely. What was already eroding just plain exploded. I went into that bath house one person, and came out an entirely different person.

And when I emerged into the air, the whole universe had expanded before me. I felt Divine from a hundred thousand sources. Not just one pantheon, not just one vulture in the sky. Everywhere.

I felt Faerie too. Major Faerie. And yes, I could see Them at that moment. Some were in the spillway, some were playing with the children, and Some were across the street in the window of a store. (Jules Enchanting Gifts, see Sidebar.)

Three months later, this blog was born. It is dedicated to any and every deity that can or could be called "Pagan." I once told Isaac Bonewits that I'm not a polytheist, I'm an omnitheist. Show me your deity, and I will praise Him/Her/It.

I follow the Druid path, somewhat. I say somewhat because I even believe in the Fomorians and Fir Bolgs and all the deities displaced by the Celtic pantheon. None of this matters, though. Divine is everywhere. It cannot be quantified, reified, or understood with our limited brain function.

Thank you, thank you, West Virginia. State of my heart. Love of my life. Forget the "almost." The place is Heaven. Ask any bored deitiy. Ask me.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.

--Bill of Rights, U.S. Constitution
"When I die, won't you bury me in the mountains? Far away in my Blue Ridge Mountain home."

Full Moon over Devils Lake

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" It's the holy month of Samhain. No better time than that to send laughter and love to every state in America! Today we're fishing with the Devil. Not really, of course. We have no commerce with the Devil. Nor do the good sports men and women (and kids, the photos are awesome) who enjoy the beautiful environs of Devils Lake, North Dakota.

EXHIBIT A: THE LAKE BEARING THE NAME OF DEVIL INTO AMERICA

I have always wondered why there are so many great and small geographical anomalies named after the Devil.

We all know which Devil I'm referring to. He has lots of names. My favorite is "Mr. Applegate." But call him what you will, the Devil is:

1. Christian pantheon, and
2. Male.

He makes you buy dresses, abuse substances, murder kittens, whatever. And if you worship him, what the hell are you doing here at "The Gods Are Bored?" Go get yourself some ugly skull tattoo, head down into your mother's basement, and listen to Ozzy records to your heart's content. Just don't darken this blog. The Devil is evil. We hate evil in all its forms. It sucks, and that's that. Go away, Devil worshiper!

But back to the topic. Devils Lake derives its name from a mistranslation of a Sioux term. The Sioux (cleaned out and sent packing) called it "Bad Spirit Water." Only the Sioux have no Devil in their pantheon. The "bad spirit" was the lake's salinity, which varies depending upon rainfall.

Here's the satellite photo. This puppy is a big lake. And very popular with sports enthusiasts, especially those who fish.

In "One Nation under God and Only God," what would this lake be called? Would the fish in it be considered evil? Would it be re-named Turtledove Lake, or Gabriel Lake, or something causing a financial turmoil as businesses, mapmakers, hotels, and restaurants -- and a whole friggin town changes signs?

You see how silly things could become in a One God world?

Where I grew up, there were many geographical features named after the Devil. Most of them reflected the Devil's personality: jumbles of rocks at the bottom of mountains (Devil's Racecourse, Devil's Den), odd bends in the Antietam Creek (Devil's Backbone). And that's just in one little section of Appalachia. Imagine having to re-name everything that has "Devil" in the title. Crikey, even a sports team!

The moral of this little sermon is this: Any theocracy must bend over backwards to eliminate the perceived evil in its midst. This would have to include an Orwellian eradication of stuff named after the Devil ... no matter whether its a mistranslation from Sioux (cleaned out and sent packing) or not.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of relgion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. --Bill of Rights, U.S. Constitution.

The devil's in the details.

A Few Words from Joe MONTANA

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," sports fans! If you follow pro sports at all (and I know some of you do), you have to feel just a little bit sorry for a Phillies/Eagles fan today. Wowsa, did we have an awful weekend!

This is Joe Montana. He's a famous quarterback, and that's just about all I know about him. For the purposes of this post, Joe was chosen for his name. Montana. Get it?

Love him or hate him, Joe Montana did most of his playing on Sunday. A dizzying majority of NFL games are played on Sunday. You've got Monday night, Thanksgiving, and an odd Saturday here and there. Otherwise, the Day of Rest is anything but, if you make millions on the gridiron.

Can you imagine Sundays without football? Can you remember when the stores were all closed on Sunday? Do you recall a time when you didn't have to drive your kid to soccer games on Sunday? Golly, they play those puppies on Sunday mornings! The effrontery!

When it comes to entertainment, retail, and amateur sporting events, Sunday is the best day to git r done. Right, Joe? (I think he played in a few Super Bowls. If you know more, share.)

The Amish and the Old Order Mennonites do not work on Sunday. They even cook Sunday dinner on Saturday, so they don't have to work in the kitchen. The entirety of Sunday is spent in church, or lounging at someone's home. I don't know what they do about tending the livestock, but suffice it to say that they don't make book on the 49ers and then cluster around the big screen, cheering every play.

A national movement that would change the District of Columbia to the District of Christ might have its own ideas about how Sunday should be spent. No more NFL? No more quick jaunts to Target for trouser socks? No more kid soccer, band practice, Broadway shows? Would the new slogan be, "Bring Back the Blue Laws?" The founders of Chick-fil-a would sure go for that!

Way back when I was a Methodist, I remember one Sunday when the bishop came to preach at our church. He was a zealous dude, all done up in fancy robes. The first thing he said when he came to the pulpit was, "If you think you're getting home from here in time to watch the Eagles today, think again. If watching the Eagles is more important than your soul, get up and leave now."

He then preached a 90-minute sermon. If looks could kill, the Eagles fans in that congregation would have struck that pious windbag down like you stomp a spider that's after your kitten.

Long pass from Montana to Jerry Rice made short, a Christian theocracy could change the contours of Sunday for us all. Considering how poorly the Eagles played this week, I'd say to Cindy Jacobs ... bring it on.

Not.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion. Play ball!

They Swim Upriver: Interview with the Salmon of Wisdom

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," today honoring the varieties of religious devotion in the great state of Washington! Never been there. Would like to go some day. Send money. (Just kidding.)

Among the most fantastic phenomena in the Pacific Northwest is the run of spawning salmon. Unlike Atlantic salmon, who spawn and move on, Pacific salmon swim upstream to the place where they were spawned. There they breed, and there they die. Considering the importance of this food source, its not surprising that the Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest have many Scriptures of revealed religion about the Salmon, from how It got into their nets to how It behaves with Its fellow Salmon in the great briny depths.

The ancient Celts also have a whopper of a Salmon story, and its star is here with me today. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Fintan, the Salmon of Wisdom!

Anne: Fintan, the Native Americans of Washington State say that Salmon act like humans when no one is watching them. Could this be so? I mean, other than You, of course. I've always considered You a special exception, considering the fact that you had the good sense to eat the hazel nuts of Wisdom, rather than chow down on some schlub named Jonah.

Fintan: Speaking on behalf of My Fishes, we do not wish to reveal Our ways to humans, other than what you see on Animal Planet.

Anne: Why not?

Fintan: You would be envious of our superiority.

Anne: Yes, I sure would. I'm envious of ant colonies. But let's talk about normal humans for a moment. Would they, too, be envious of the superiority of Salmon?

Fintan: Yes indeed they would.

Anne: Why?

Fintan: For one thing, we all get along. Nary a harsh bubble passes between one salmon and another. You'll hear one big alpha male call out to another: "Hey, watch out for that grizzly on the bank! Right there, under the pine tree!"

Anne: Wow, I do wish people were like that!

Fintan: Suffice it to say, no underfed, undernourished Salmon have ever had to camp out in the pool demanding better treatment from the fat, comfortable Salmon.

Anne: Would that it were so among humans!

Fintan: We also understand completely the entire nature of the Universe. Humans aren't ready to know. When they are, they'll know to ask us.

Anne: The Native Americans of Washington State have a legend that their Ancient Ones could put the bones of a salmon into the water, and the bones would become fleshed-out and alive again.

Fintan: Fie on you, Anne Johnson! That's no legend. It's an archetype of the collective unconscious, having to do with the cyclical nature of sustainable food sources!

Anne (to herself): They don't call Him the Salmon of Wisdom for nothing! (To Fintan) You know, o Salmon, that I was once very disdainful of hunters and people who fished for sport. Now I love these people! They are some of the most demanding environmentalists around. In Washington State they have blocked dam projects. Around here, where I live now, a group called Trout Unlimited is lobbying for strict studies on hydraulic fracturing and its impact on water quality in rural streams and rivers.

Fintan: We Salmon love these people too. Some of them are even smart enough to throw the bones back into the water! And I certainly respect the Native American people of Washington State who have shown so much respect and reverence toward their indispensable food staple.

Anne: Fintan, we've talked here often. You know I call upon You for wisdom when I'm perplexed. This is part of my praise and worship. Do you think Native American children in Washington State should be taught to praise and worship the Deities who brought nutritious and dependable Salmon into their lives?

Fintan: Coyote the Trickster figures in some of those Scriptures.

Anne: Correct again, Wise One! So. Does Coyote, and do You, deserve a place at the American altar?

Fintan: Absolutely. Anyone who thinks otherwise has a hazel nut deficiency.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. Wisdom to live by from the Bill of Rights of the Constitution of the United States of America.

High over New Mexico: Interview with a Hallucinogenic Plant

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Yesterday was Back-to-School night at my school, with the emphasis on night. Literally I am holding my eyes open with a toothpick.

But onward and upward we go in our quest to protect the varieties of religious experience from those who would restrict our diets to one food item ... of their choosing!

Speaking of diets, especially those rich in spiritual properties, I have a very, very interesting companion here today. Did you know that some anthropologists believe that the consumption of hallucinogenic mushrooms may have been the foundation of the earliest forays into religious belief? Word, dudes. That stuff will make you at one with the Universe. Or so I'm told. We at "The Gods Are Bored" are not keen on ingesting fungi or controlled substances. Against the law and all that. *Occupy the DEA*

My "Gods Are Bored" guest today is not a mushroom, however. It's a leafy green New World plant, used for at least 3,000 years in sacred ceremonies throughout the tropical Americas. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Banisteriopsis caapi, better known as the hallucinogenic tea Ayahuasca!

Anne: Welcome, Ayahuasca! I'd offer you a cup of tea ... but that's what you are.

Ayahuasca: I'm not your cup of tea, though. You haven't been initiated into the Mysteries.

Anne: So true. About the most adventurous I get is a vodka gimlet. But this isn't about my religious experiences, it's about America's religious experiences. And You, o Sacred Ayahuasca, have been foully and cruelly treated! Everyone has heard the tale of the DEA agents bursting in on a ceremony of the Unaio do Vegetal praise and worship team in New Mexico. The agents pulled You right out of the priest's kitchen and carted You off to the slammer. (Or in this case, the refrigerator.)

Ayahuasca: We took them to court. To the Supreme Court. And we won.

Anne: Damn right, you won! It's called the First Amendment, and there's a long and well-documented use of Ayahuasca tea in numerous religious paths originating in the Western Hemisphere. I was rooting for Unaio do Vegetal every step of the way.

Ayahuasca: Thank you. Here is how I look at it. You never see DEA agents bursting into a First Communion, confiscating the wine, and arresting the priests for serving alcoholic beverages to minors.

Anne: Absolutely correct! But ... emmm ... playing the devil's advocate here, I'd have to say that You are far more potent than watered-down communion wine.

Ayahuasca: I am an all-powerful source of the wisdom of the universe. My followers know this and use Me with care.

Anne: As they have every right to do, under the second clause of the first sentence of the First Amendment. I've read some accounts of Your use. And of course, Timothy Leary, Terrence McKenna, and Erowid. It does sound to me like, if one used You responsibly, one could communicate with any bored god on the radar.

Ayahuasca: And many who aren't.

Anne: I understand that only the men in Your praise and worship team get to use You.

Ayahuasca: Don't pass judgment. It's My praise and worship team, and that's how we roll. Specially-trained males only.

Anne: Hey. Whatever moves the spirits of Unaio do Vegetal is a-okay with me. Ayahuasca, I hope Your legal troubles are over. How would Your praise and worship team feel if the U.S. government not only outlawed Your use, but outlawed the religion that it springs from?

Ayahuasca: We would fix that. A few infiltrators to the Albuquerque public water works, and soon everyone would be keen to join Unaio do Vegetal!

Anne: Well, that's a little extreme, even for me. Why don't You just settle for spiking the punch at the next Rick Perry prayer breakfast?

Ayahuasca: A worthy idea!

Anne: Thank you for dropping by, Ayahuasca. If I ever decide to go tripping on tryptamines, I'll give you a holler. Don't hold your breath, though. If I made it through the 1970s without dropping acid even once, I'm not likely to start at my age.

Ayahuasca: I am part of a significant and highly ritualized praise and worship. I'm not for sipping after a long day's work. Just keep that in mind.

Anne: Oh, I do! I do! See? I'm about to sip a glass of pinot grigio. The gift from Bacchus, who doesn't give a fig how it's used and abused.


To me, what is most beautiful about America is the fact that small sects like Unaio do Vegetal, who are able to tie themselves to established patterns of worship, have the absolute right to use hallucinogens in their rituals. This small New Mexico praise and worship team is hardly unique in its use (not abuse) of mind-altering substances. Long may they hold their sacred plant to their souls and soar with It to their Gods!


Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America. So might it be.

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Sedna

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," deliberating with downsized deities since 2005! If you're a late arrival here, you've parked curbside just in the nick of time! We're having a good ol' bored god tent revival in response to a hornet's nest of theocrats bent upon making One Nation under God a legal reality.

This benign little group is called DC40, and they're rather tied in to Rick Perry. You can read all about it over at The Wild Hunt Blog. Just click my sidebar and follow the tags.

DC40 began on October 3 to concentrate black magic prayer intentions toward Hawaii. Every day the group will direct their black magic odd bell-ringing prayers toward another state, going backwards to (I presume they know their history) modest little Delaware. They plan an 11-day visit to Philadelphia in November.

That's in the future. We've got to concentrate on the here and now. And with that, I have another bored Goddess here with me today. Please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Sedna, Sacred Goddess of the Inuit Peoples!

Sedna: Goodness, it's warm here! Is October always like this in New Jersey?

Anne: Actually we're finally getting somewhat seasonal temperatures. It has been very warm and rainy here for the past month and a half. Dear Goddess, let me go make you a nice bucket of ice water. Home Sweet Home and all that.

Sedna: Thank you.

Anne: Sedna, just FYI, here's what the folks at DC40 wrote about Alaska on their web site:

On October 4, it will be Alaska’s turn to take the point position of leading intercession in releasing the power of eternal light over our nation’s capital, with the strength of the other 49 standing as one alongside her.

Sedna: The power of eternal light? From Alaska? In mid-winter we hardly get any light at all! Even now the days are getting shorter by the eye-blink. If I have anything to say about it, Alaska will not be releasing any light that we need ourselves to get prepared for the long winter ahead.

Anne: A highly sensible strategy, Great Goddess.

Sedna: And frankly, my praise and worship team has little fondness for the "other 49." The other 49? All they want from us is cheap oil, at any cost to My pristine wilderness. What's the name of that guy who's interested in getting Alaska to secede from the "other 49?"

Anne: Todd Palin?

Sedna: Yeah, I think he's one of them. Not that I want a moron like him in charge of anything, but my praise and worship team would be peachy keen on dumping the other 49. And keeping the oil in the ground, where it won't poison waterways and kill wildlife.

Anne: Speaking of the Palins, what have you to say about Sarah?

Sedna: Took care of her.

Anne: What?

Sedna: Did you see how foolish she made herself look? She's not that stupid. But when you run at cross-purposes to Sedna, She will rattle your brain.

Anne: You're taking credit for Sarah's precipitous fall from power?

Sedna: Well, Anne, it's like this. If DC40 and its ilk think that they can influence people with prayer, then guess what? So can the followers of Sedna! My praise and worship team prayed constantly that Sarah Palin would tank like a stone, and so she has done. And now ...

Anne: Oooo OOOOO oooo! SQUEEEEE! Rick Perry's big chums with the DC40 crowd! Is he tripping up due to the prayers of the followers of the bored gods?

Sedna: Bored gods and busy gods. Krishna is livid.

Anne: I hope we can reassure Krishna, and the Buddhists, and even the sane and sober Methodists, that this nation will remain pluralistic, embracing the great variety of people who live here and their varieties of religious experience.

Sedna: Yes, fine, pluralistic is fine, but can I get some respect for My people? Can you imagine living for millennia in one of the most hostile wilderness areas on the planet, and then being told your deities are inferior to some god who lives the soft life in the Fertile Crescent?

Anne: Good point. God's followers would not doubt credit Him with the ability to construct an igloo, but I'm skeptical.

Sedna: Me too. It's harder than it looks on those National Geographic specials.

Anne: Sedna, I have some ice cream down in the freezer. Would you like a banana split?

Sedna: No thank you. Pairing bananas and ice cream is like pairing palm trees and glaciers. Just doesn't seem right to me somehow.

Anne: Well, thank you for dropping in. We at "The Gods Are Bored" are going to lift up a prayer for You and Yours. Good luck with that long, cold winter!

Sedna: We are used to them. It's how we roll.



My dear friends, let us face Alaska and pray to Great Sedna:

"Oh gentle Sedna of the Arctic,
We pray for the protection of Your people and their way of life.
May they always reach out to You for the certain protection of their millennial ways.
Gentle Sedna, feel our concern for Your lands,
That they be held sacred.
That they not be broken in a scramble for profits.
That they hold the magnificent winter wilderness.
Go into the peaceful darkness, dear Sedna.
The light is for You and Your people.

All hail Sedna. All hail the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion.


Artwork by the absolutely incomparable Thalia Took.

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Pele

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" In case you've missed it, this month -- so sacred to Pagans -- has been declared a war zone by some people who want Jesus to blow things up. Pish tosh to them! As the veil grows thin, we will call upon the Gods and Goddesses to protect our land from zealotry of every stripe!

Today, the nefarious group known as "DC 40," founded by the linked lunatic above, has launched its prayer assault against the great state of Hawaii, birthplace of our current president (yes, really). Little known fact: Hawaii was granted statehood the year I was born. Yep. It's me, Alaska, Hawaii, and Barbie! Great year.

In response to the DC 40 bloody rain of terror, the Great Goddess Pele, sacred to the Original People of Hawaii, has dropped by for a quick interview. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Pele!

Anne: My, my, you are a pretty Lady!

Pele: The artist Thalia Took has done a lovely likeness. Brrrr! It's cold in your house! Shall I warm things up?

Anne: Oh, no no! That's okay! Really! So kind and all, but we've got love to keep us warm here at Chateau Johnson. We don't need a Volcano Goddess. But this isn't Hawaii. This is New Jersey. Where exactly would Hawaii be without you, O Pele?

Pele: It wouldn't exist. My Sisters and I are responsible for many of the islands of the Pacific Rim.

Anne: And beautiful islands they are, too. So I'm told. I've never been to any of them. Pele, how do you feel about people who would like to pray you out of the way? It's not like they can kill you, but they can rob you of your praise and worship team.

Pele: I get steamed up about it. Who are these people, anyway? What's so special about their God?

Anne: Their God set a bush on fire, and it didn't burn. It just stood there.

Pele: That sounds like a myth to me.

Anne: Me too. I'd like to see it done again, no modern tricks.

Pele: Me too. I send out warnings before I start burning stuff up, but when I blow, things burn.

Anne: And from the nutrient-rich ashes of your fires, Great Goddess, come the verdant forests of our 50th state! All hail!

Pele: Thank you.

Anne: I've got a modest following here at "The Gods Are Bored," o Great Goddess Pele. Today I'm going to ask them to join me in prayer. Readers, please face Hawaii and pray the following:

"Great Goddess Pele of Hawaii,
Long may You live in peace as a Goddess of America.
Guard Your people as You did before the American flag flew in Your land.
We praise you, Great Pele.
Long may Your sacred fires turn into flowers!"

Pele: Oh, that's lovely! Now I must be homeward bound. Would you like to join me, Anne?

Anne: Well, let's see. On one hand, I have New Jersey, governed by Chris Christie, peppered with oil refineries and chemical plants, criss-crossed by turnpikes, and subject to all the air pollution flowing west to east across continental USA. On the other, Maui. Give me 15 minutes, Goddess, to pack my bags!

All hail Pele, Goddess of Hawaii. All hail the First Amendment of the Constitution. Congress shall pass no law respecting an establishment of religion.

Forever and ever. So might it be.

Image: Pele, by Thalia Took. Sidebar. For all your deity needs!

The Robin Hoods of Religion

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Did y'all like that beautiful video of the Great Goddess Columbia? Isn't it inspirational? The beauty of it is that all those sweet little kids are praying to the Goddess. Oh, be still my beating heart!

Speaking of hearts, I guess it's more than Cupid toying with bows and arrows today. Apparently the black magicians misguided Christians in Cindy Jacobs' evil empire have noticed that we Pagans don't cotton to the idea of One Nation under Jehovah. Here's a recent threat kind note to us:

" You see, there is no DC40 Prayer War. It is finished, you just haven’t come to the truth of it yet. However, if you are reading this, it is too late – we release the arrow of blood-covered truth and convicting power of Holy Spirit into the core of your being, and release grace for you to SEE in Jesus’ Mighty Name!”

I think these people should choose their metaphors more wisely. Don't you?

The only blood released here at "The Gods Are Bored" is to the Red Cross, one pint at a time.

We stink at the link, but if you haven't seen this PNC bulletin about this fall's black magic intended to turn America into a theocracy, read it and cheep:

http://pncminnesota.wordpress.com/2011/09/14/dc40-to-pagans-we-release-the-power-of-blood-covered-light-over-you/

Then come back here. Ground. Center. Breathe. Watch the beautiful video below, courtesy of Verizon.

Coming soon: I will tell you all about the big plans to cleanse Philadelphia of all the negative energy generated by archers who tip their arrowheads in blood...

... whew. Seriously. If Pagans talked like this, they'd be investigated by the authorities.

9/11 Navel Gaze

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," recording a navel gaze on the tenth anniversary of the fall of the Twin Towers. The tragedy happened well before I began writing "The Gods Are Bored" -- just about the time when the Old Ones began a gentle tug on my soul.

First, the politics. I am one of those people who think we ought to examine this tragedy with a touch of hubris. Why did this happen in the first place? I ponder. One thing I believe to be absolutely true. The terrorists won. Our economy was already on the brink of a downward curve, and 9/11 just pushed things over the edge. You can feel differently if you like, but anyone with a drop of Scottish blood will tell you that a few determined warriors can plunge a mighty nation into bankruptcy.

Just an opinion. Opinions are entitlements.

On September 11, 2002, I was working at the job I loved -- writing -- at home, sitting just where I am now. In those days I had recently completed a long gig for ESPN. I had a t.v. on my desk, all hooked up to the cable. Mr. Johnson called me on the phone and told me to turn the t.v. on. When I did, one tower was already in flames, and the second plane was just tearing into the other one. Honestly, dear readers, my jaw dropped. Literally.

I watched the horror unfold, and then the little Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder said, "Get back to work!"

Just at that moment, the announcers said another plane had crashed in "rural southern Pennsylvania." That's where my farm is.

So I watched on, in ever-increasing horror, until the shock turned to rage. I turned the t.v. off and went back to my mundane reference book work. Damn if I was going to let terrorists keep me from earning a wage!

Of course I couldn't work. I was too horrified. And then it was time to go pick up The Spare from school.

The Spare was in second grade. Chances are she is one of the youngest Americans who will actually remember 9/11.

The elementary school was within an easy walking distance of Chateau Johnson. Almost every day a crowd of moms would be gathered in front of the school, waiting for dismissal. (I never let Spare walk home alone until she was in Middle School.) On this day there were easily ten times the usual number of parents on the lawn. One of them was weeping. Her brother-in-law had been on the 80th floor -- his first visit ever to the World Trade Center.

When the bell rang, I witnessed something I'll never forget. The kids came charging out as usual. They hadn't been told about the tragedy. But we parents knew. We rushed our children, grabbed them and held them tight. Rare was the child who didn't have a parent, or aunt, or older sibling, crushing his ribs.

I held onto the Spare for dear life. It turned out that her teacher had been called from the classroom. The teacher's daughter had been scheduled to take one of those flights and hadn't made it to the airport on time. Of all the classes in the school, Spare's was the only one that had an inkling it hadn't been an ordinary day.

Spare remembers. She remembers me telling her to go upstairs and not watch any channel but Nickelodeon. But when she turned on my upstairs t.v., of course it came onto the news channel, and she never switched.

Heir was in sixth grade. Her school had an assembly. The principal told them what was happening. She came home with a million questions.

The rest of the day is a blur. What chiefly stands out for me was seeing this horror unfold, stubbornly and angrily returning to work (Appalachian trait), and then grabbing my little one for dear life (human trait).

There are crazy people out in the world. Real psychos, who cling to any religious fervor that feeds their inner demons. Beware of these people. They come from every praise and worship team known to humankind. We never know when they will go over the tipping point and start blowing stuff up.

When a place like Norway isn't safe from terror, why should America not stand on guard against every lunatic fringe?

God's Fault Again!

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" My, what a mighty wind we had here! And six inches of rain! There are trees down, and power outages, and limbs in the streets, and every waterway is flooded. All up and down the East Coast, everything's a mess. Poor Asbury Park! I looked at some YouTubes, but none of them were good enough to post here. Suffice it to say that tourist season is over for that boardwalk.

Guess who is to blame for this hurricane? God!

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/ticket/bachmann-claims-hurricane-earthquake-were-god-messages-politicians-155051199.html

Busy God, sending messages to the politicians in Washington, DC. The message? Politicians spend too much taxpayer money. Except now the politicians will have to spend even more taxpayer money to clean up after the hurricane! Who is the dummy here: God, or Michele Bachmann?

The smart money's on Michele. What a moron!

The good news out of Chateau Johnson is that all of our trees survived and we only lost power sporadically, like any old thunderstorm.

Now, mind you, I didn't leave the protection of my household and its residents up to pure chance and the vagaries of weather patterns. Oh no! I petitioned safety of a whole slew of bored deities: Chac (see below), Hurracan, Oya, Oshun, and Triton. And because They weren't busy sending a message to Washington, DC, They put up a celestial wall of safety around my house and loved ones!

If you are visiting this site because of all my dissing of Cindy Jacobs and other Christian warriors (of which Michele Bachmann is clearly one), please ponder this a moment.

A leading politician claims that the God of Cindy Jacobs caused an earthquake and a hurricane -- serious, deadly stuff. My bored gods, on the other hand, quietly and efficiently saved my family from harm, while feeling no particular need to send a political message to Washington.

Busy deities get blamed for everything. Bored deities aren't burdened with such baggage. So, why go with the god who feels the need to send messages in a showy, destructive way? Seek ye the bored gods and goddesses who have the time to care for you, and the gentility not to use major weather systems to make a point.

The word of the bored gods, for the people of the bored gods, thanks be to the bored gods! Yep.

Someone Warn Rick and Michele: Church Attendance Is Declining

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Oh, I just love getting my news from the radio! It's easier for me to avoid having to link!

Driving around a bit this morning, a Sunday, not much going on in the news. A report comes on that says church attendance is declining. I don't know if church attendance is declining just in the Delaware Valley (where I live), or everywhere across the nation. That's the thing about radio. It can be nebulous.

What interested me about this report was the speculation offered as to these declining numbers. The reporter said that people are probably avoiding Christian churches because of the emphasis on nuclear families (which most people don't have anymore).

I'm not sure I buy this. I've never personally seen a single mother, or a teen mother, showered with disdain or disrespect in a church. Usually they are welcomed with open arms -- especially by the single men who go to church in search of companionship.

Here's why I think church attendance is declining:

1. Politicians who mix church and state turn people off. When all you have left in the churches are the people who want the U.S.A. to be run on biblical precepts, you're gonna have some big, empty pews.

2. Churches always ask you for money. I just wrote a post about this last week. If you don't have enough cash to fix your own leaky roof, are you going to submit yourself to a stewardship sermon requesting tithe money to fix the church's leaky roof?

3. Our society is changing. When I was a kid, church was the only game in town on Sunday. Everything else was closed. Now you've got appealing brunch options, soccer games, open shopping malls, and the wonderful laundromat, bustling with busy sinners like me!

4. Church attendance, at least in big cities, has never been all that impressive. I guess in small towns, where everyone you know goes to church, you're more inclined to do it yourself. Where I live, it's just as easy to go to a museum ... and less expensive.

If there's a cautionary aspect to this sermon, it's just this: The harder the fringe Christians press their agenda, the more people they'll alienate. Loud fringe groups who have outsized influence on politics are always met by a backlash. If you want to know why we even have to deal with the Dominionists and the Moral Majority and all these fools, just go back to 1968 and ask yourself what the hippies wrought.

I think I'll keep listening to news radio on Sunday. If I hear that church attendance is growing by leaps and bounds, I'll be concerned about the future of America. Checks and balances are good things, in government and society at large.

E pluribus unum.

The Most Powerful Spell

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Today we begin a little experiment. Kind of like Job in reverse. I am going to mention Cindy Jacobs and DC40 frequently in my posts, giving them ample opportunity to find this site. Let's see if they can harm me through their prayers. I stand in flat-out opposition to their agenda, so ... have at me, varlets! Jesus is too busy to look after me, so I put myself in the hands of the bored gods. Na na na na BOO BOO! (Bronx cheer with rude gesture)

I've just finished writing 25 spells for next year's Llewellyn Spell Almanac. Many of them are based on the Appalachian hedge magick I grew up with, so they tend to be cautionary and protective. And serious. My grandmother showered me with dire predictions of what the "black dog" and the "booger men" would do if I strayed too far from home. (This, of course, was for her convenience. Much magick works this way.)

As for me, I find that the strongest spells are those laced with humor. How many times have I said it here? Laughter is the best medicine!

(Speaking of which, when you're through here, go look at Yellowdog Granny's spine-ticklers. She usually puts a slew of them up on Monday morning, and if that isn't strong magick, I don't know what is.

Let's look at a recent event, and you'll see what I mean.

I invited the Great Goddess Freya here, knowing that She's getting busy again but hoping for a moment of Her time. She penciled me into her schedule, dropped by and played with my cats, and shared a horn of local lager. Four weeks later, my daughter The Heir was in downtown Oslo when she was literally rocked by a bomb blast. She was a ten-minute walk from the government complex.

Freya was probably busier than ever that day, but She found time for The Heir. All glory, laud, and honor to thee, Freya, Mother of the North!

Here at Chateau Johnson, the only event that is not mocked and saturated with humor is the death of a loved one. At that time, and that time only, I become serious. But it passes. As for being angry at the spouse and kids, I turn that over to Anansi, who helps me disappear into a story-world until I've cooled down.

Laugh through the Apocalypse. It's happening to you anyway. Will crying make it any different?

Maybe that's a bad analogy, because all of us Pagans will be laughing through the Apocalypse. We're going to turn all those mega-churches into skate parks and have Rituals at the National Cathedral.

My family has so far been spared from the ravages of fire, flood, and hurricane. But I've been through job loss, work frustrations by the cartload, and the heartbreak of my child's chronic illness. I don't laugh at these things, I laugh at myself going through these things. Best. Medicine. Ever.

With that in mind, I remembered that Philadelphia has its own amazingly powerful counter-spell for malefic magick. It's called the Mummer's Parade, it happens every year on January 1, and this year I will be in it. What ill-guided intentions can stand up to 15,000 crazy revelers in sequins and feathers, carrying parasols and wearing wigs? Get real, DC40. Philadelphia is free!

Ha ha ha, ho ho ho, and a couple of tra la las! That's how I laugh my day away, as I cheerfully thumb my schnoz!