A Land Called Fantasy

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," running amok with the faeries since 2005! Bring all your deities, and we'll have a picnic! Hurry up, though. I'm running out of my last jar of Marzetti slaw dressing, and I can't seem to find it in the stores anymore. Please, Gods, give me Marzetti!

Now there's a prayer that just might get answered.

If you're one of the three or four readers who come here frequently, you might have guessed that I had something like a crisis over the past weekend. It's too personal for a blog, having to do with serious matters of the heart. But let me tell you -- I felt your energy keeping me afloat. I only had one really bad moment, and that was when I was alone in my classroom. Otherwise you would have been proud of me. And while the situation is not exactly settled to my satisfaction, it is at least a little less freighted than it was.

Therefore, let us move onward and downward in classic "Gods Are Bored" fashion!

I've trashed, maligned, berated, and heaped disdain upon the Dominionist movement since I first heard about it. Nary a single troll in that loathsome company has slithered from under his bridge to challenge me. But the minute I started in on the Mormons ... oh boy. Always a sensitive lot, they're even more defensive than usual in this particular election cycle.

A recent troll took issue with my bafflement over the LDS position on masturbation (hereafter known in this blog as "turtle dove love"). I think in a nutshell that serious followers of this faith must have to use industrial strength scrub brushes in certain anatomical regions, just to keep hand from touching flesh.

I had forgotten what the troll pointed out. This stricture stems from the fantasies that accompany turtle dove love. These fantasies are sinful and lead to doom and destruction.

Once I read somewhere that the average male thinks about sex every three minutes. If that is the case, then being a Mormon must be hell on earth. Mind control that the CIA can only dream about. Imagine that the only time you can think about sex is when you are contemplating or undertaking coitus with the exhausted wife who has already borne you six children! What a way to live! I'd rather be an earthworm.

I'm not afraid to use myself as an Exhibit A here, even though I'm a woman. I have fantasized about every sort of sex except sadistic or pedophilia. I'm a lady of a certain age, so lots and lots of stuff has crossed my mind. Paul Newman, turtle dove lover! House painter home from college for the summer ... turtle dove lover!  Great big orgy of good-looking people, all sharing the bounty? Wheee! I think about it. Haven't ever done it. Seriously, does this harm anyone, just thinking about it?

Anticipating the troll, I will add the LDS stance on this. If you imagine "doing it" with someone you actually know, this can lead to really doing it, which must be a far greater sin than turtle dove loving. My counter argument for this is pretty simple, really.

The savvy turtle dove lover applies higher consciousness to the situation.

Higher consciousness is that little bug in your ear that warns you to keep it in the turtle dove realm. It's the sensible little something that reminds you of your home and hearth, that weighs the consequences. I can't decide whether Mormons are totally lacking this skill, or whether they have honed it to such perfection that they've robbed themselves of the need for it. Either way, their lives must be dull and difficult. And sadly fraught with shame.

As Exhibit A I will plead the Fifth on my own personal life except to say that turtle dove love has kept me out of trouble, it's kept my family to a manageable size, and it's sex with someone I love.

I got that last line from Woody Allen. It's a keeper.

Have a warm and wonderful "Gods Are Bored" day!

Dreaming On

After just six months of missionary work in a suburb of Philadelphia, two Mormon missionaries, Abner and Zebediah, returned to their homes in Ogden, Utah.

Their families were startled by the young men's premature return. Typically Mormon missionaries spend a year or more in faraway places, trying to win people to the one true faith.

Abner and Zebediah decided it would be easier to explain if they called their families together and talked as a pair. So that's what they did. The Abner family, 16 in all (very tired mother) and the Zeb family, 10 in all and still counting (very tired mother) convened in the basement of the nearest Mormon church.

Abner said, "We have gathered you together tonight to tell you all that Zeb and I have seen the light. We have become Druids."

Some family members gasped.

Zeb said: "We were slogging door to door in a middle class neighborhood. We came to this house with a nice lady inside who gave us pie and cider and told us that the god we worship is temperamental, jealous, has a spotty record on environmentalism, and allowed the Romans to torture his own son."

Zeb's little Mormon brother peeped: "Yeah! In the Bible it says, 'I am a jealous god!' So Zeb's gotta be right!"

Abner continued: "The lady said that her religion is filled with kind Goddesses and totemic animals -- and Gods too -- and that it seeks to honor those deities by preserving the earth and celebrating the lives of those who came before us."

To which Zeb added: "Well, heck's sake, we Mormons already steep ourselves to the gills in genealogy. So why not set aside one night a year to pray to all those folks whose names we've traced back all the way to the Magna Carta?"

"This is blasphemy!" roared Zeb's father. (Zeb's mother just sighed and tried to keep her eyes open.)

"Now here's something really wonderful," said Abner, ignoring the interruption. "The nice lady said that if we follow her faith, we wouldn't have to abstain from mastur ... mastur .... massssturrr ... uhhhh ... turtle dove love. Because there's nothing sinful about having an urge to think about ssssss..... ssssss..... sssssss..."

"Remember, Abner, we practiced this part," Zeb said.

"There's nothing sinful about turtle dove love!" Abner exclaimed.

"It serves as a natural population control, to say nothing of allowing young teenage boys to blow off steam so they can concentrate on something besides controlling their sexu...... ssssss....."

"What's turtle dove love?" asked Abner's younger brother.

"Jerking off," replied Zeb's equally younger brother.

"Aren't we supposed to not do that?" asked yet another pinch-faced teenage brother.

"Well, being free to engage in turtle dove love is just one little side benefit of Druidism," Zeb explained. "Druids encourage their followers not to over-populate the planet..."

This caused the boys' moms to perk up for a moment.

"And their festivals aren't all about drinking Jesus blood or worshipping torture. They're all about being really kind and warm and loving, and enjoying yourself as long as no one gets hurt and the furniture doesn't get stained."

"What was that last part?" Abner's dumbfounded father asked.

"He got it wrong," Abner answered. "He meant, 'An thou harm none, do what thou wilt.' And if you can't say anything else about that sentiment, at least you can say that it'll save the kids a lot of memorizing verses from the Book of Mormon."

The little kids all started to cheer and asked how they could sign up to be Druids. The moms converted right on the spot. The teenaged boys rushed off for some alone time. The girls contemplated a life that included more than diapering one baby after the next after the next.

And then Anne woke up, and it was time to make supper.

Gods Are Bored Fashion Show

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," clearinghouse for 10,000 One True Religions! Choose, then choose again, then change your mind, and then check out the clearance rack! There's sure to be a deity that's perfect for you, and in your price range, too.

You know what all religions have in common? Whenever two or more people gather together to practice, they're gonna note what the others are wearing.

If you happen to practice in a state of nudity, you're not exempt. Your compadres will still take notes, and make notes, and mull your birthday suit over in their minds, whether they mean to or not.

We at "The Gods Are Bored" get a great deal of Pagan news from The Wild Hunt, a very rational and comprehensive site. Lately the author of this site has reported on a mild frisson among Pagans on what exactly constitutes proper Pagan attire for gatherings of a religious nature.

Some malcontents have actually heaped scorn on the Goth and Medieval attire that is so popular with the New Age crowd.

Argue with this one if you'd like, but I sure wouldn't kick him out of my circle.

One contributor of a comment at "Wild Hunt" suggested that Pagans should "grow up," wear normal clothing, and stop using made-up names, so as to be taken seriously. Tell it to this guy.

Moving on to Exhibit C:

I don't know about you, but when I see these dudes coming, I suddenly remember I have to clear the hair trap in my bathtub. Hi fellas, leave your weird book on the porch and come back for it later!

This bored god thinks we moderns don't go nearly far enough in our body ornamentation.

The point I'm trying to make is, what's the big deal if folks want to wear their SAC or Ren Faire garb to a Pagan worship service? Or, for that matter, the metal-studded black leather pants they just bought on the sale rack at Hot Topic or some other Goth store? It's human nature to want to dress up when you worship -- you're wearing the most expensive items in your wardrobe, after all.

Actually, this looks like fun to me.

Please don't get the idea that every mega-church is brimming to the plimsol line with Brooks Brothers suits and sensible Talbots ensembles in easy-to-clean polyester. These days the Rapture Righties are trying to lure the youthful crowd by allowing their teenagers to get tattoos and wear leather. Think I'm kidding? I know a youth pastor with a shaved head and a tattoo on his neck that says "Jesus Saves." Yo, whatever works, right?

So, the next time you find yourself in a praise and worship situation with like-minded thinkers, please try to curb your sartorial opinions.

If you find this impossible, we at "The Gods Are Bored" remind you that there are any number of bored gods and goddesses that pine for your praise and worship, even if you want to do it in bed, in your flannel jammies, while eating Oreo cookies and watching "Countdown with Keith."

FROM ANNE

Addendum: Home today with the flu, anxiously hoping for sufficient health to wear my own religious attire (see below), I checked the moon schedule. Can one worship with egg on the face? As far as I can figure out the time and tide, tomorrow night is a full moon, with an eclipse to boot. I still hope you'll take a moment Friday at 7:30, turn off your lights, and meditate for a solution to global climate change.

I'm a pretty pathetic Pagan if I can't even keep track of the behavior of the moon. I guess I'm hoping that other Pagans won't care if I'm not perfect.

THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS (dumb made-up name)