Interview with a Bored (And Angry) Goddess: Chalchiuhtlicue

 You read that name right, "Gods Are Bored" fans! If the Goddess's has that many letters, She almost has to be an Original American deity, in this case, Aztec. Those people must have had some dexterity in their tonsils, let me tell you!

It's a cold Sunday morning here, so I have brewed up a pot of tea and am hosting the bored Goddess Chalchiuhtlicue, sacred to the Aztec peoples. Please give her a warm, wonderful, Gods Are Bored welcome!

Chalchiuhtlicue: Don't give me anything warm! FUCK warm!

Anne: Now, dear Goddess, please. This is a family blog.

Chalchiuhtlicue: No it isn't. You never get past the censors.

Anne: Somehow that's kind of comforting to me right now. Along with the fact that no one reads this. However, Chalchiuhtlicue, let's talk about You. Your name has been making the news of late.

Chalchiuhtlicue: Is that supposed to matter to me? I used to have 20 major celebrations each year. I had My own pyramid! Now I'm just stewing in My swimming hole. The hotter it gets, the more steamed I get. And then? Hurricanes. You people deserve it.

Anne: You're preaching to the choir here, Chalchiuhtlicue. Am I pronouncing it right?

Chalchiuhtlicue: No European could ever hope to pronounce it right. But go ahead and mangle it. It's mildly amusing.

Anne: Well, I just wanted to praise and worship You and tell You that I will be calling the body of water previously known as the Gulf of Mexico, the Sea of Chalchiuhtlicue. Or, if I have 15 minutes to say a name, Chalchiuhtlicueyecatl. I don't suppose I was any more successful pronouncing that.

Chalchiuhtlicue: Not a bit.

Anne: Sorry.

Chalchiuhtlicue: Just think. That name rolled off the tongue of millions of My people as a pleasant brook flows over a stone.

Anne: I need a Tums.

Chalchiuhtlicue: And now I'm supposed to be happy that my mangled name is trotted into some feeble protest. While every year My swimming hole gets more and more like a sauna!

Anne: How about a nice slice of sweet potato pie?

Chalchiuhtlicue: Pie? That might work with those vain Greek deities, but MY PEOPLE GAVE YOU HATEFUL EUROPEANS THE SWEET POTATO. And what did we get in return? Smallpox. Influenza. You can take that pie and ...

Anne: Honestly, I'm willing to if it will improve Your temper! I just invited You over to encourage my three readers to adopt the term Chalchiuhtlicueyecatl. But I can see it's totally insufficient. I get it. I really do. The injustices heaped upon Your people by Europeans does not sit lightly with me.

Chalchiuhtlicue: Well, that inconsequential show of sympathy will at least keep Me from flooding your basement. Maybe.

Anne: Thank You for that! It would be a flick of the wrist for You, an angst-producer for me. All of my Mummers suits are down there, and my fairy festival clothes, and Omega Cat's boxes, and ...

Chalchiuhtlicue: Changing my mind here.

Anne: No! No! Don't change your mind! All glory, laud, and honor, great Goddess of the Waters of the World! Water is life, and modern European humans don't realize it, and You will have Your revenge soon. Very soon.

Chalchiuhtlicue: I know.

Anne: In the meantime, I intend to use the historically correct Chalchiuhtlicueyecatl as the name for the body of water to the immediate south of the continent erroneously known as North America.

Chalchiuhtlicue: I don't care one way or another, since I'm cooking in My own swimming hole. But you do you.

Anne: Look at this. A nice tall glass of iced sweet tea with lemon! A very modest European offering to Your overheated self.

Chalchiuhtlicue: Thank you. Your basement is safe. Can I chill in that fetching little pond behind your house?

Anne: I wouldn't. It's polluted to the plimsol line. Tell you what. The briny Absecon Inlet is just an hour's drive away. It has a nice Original American name. Let's go hang out there for the afternoon. I'll get my Under Armor. And my cashmere sweater. And my sweat pants. And my puffer coat. And my hat. And my gloves. And a scarf. And foot warmers. And wool socks.

Chalchiuhtlicue: I'll wait.

Whew! You never know about these deities, do you? They all seem pissed these days. Seems that my afternoon plans have changed. Wish me luck, friends. Chalchiuhtlicue is a bruiser. Rightly so, but wowsa.

She Is the Storm

 Here at "The Gods Are Bored" we had a whopper of a storm a few weeks ago. For about 15 minutes all hell broke loose outside. The power flickered. Wind shook the house. Stuff started hitting the windows. Mr. J and I just looked at each other, one waiting for the other to be the first to sprint to the basement. Curiously, our phones didn't beep for a weather emergency.

There was no thunder or lightning. Just wind and rain. Then it passed as quickly as it had come.

Prior to the storm, I was grilling a few nice hotdogs outside. (It was the Fourth of July, now that I come to think of it.) I kept looking at the clouds, because they were roiling, in all sorts of dark and ominous patterns, with no discernable wind direction. Again no thunder or lightning. Just clouds acting weird. Just a scary sky.

Fast forward to the aftermath of this storm. My yard was strewn with big oak branches that had blown two blocks from the little park to the south. When I walked around to see the park, it lay in shambles. On the street neighboring mine, so many trees had been toppled that they lay 20 feet high all along the lane. Houses were damaged by falling trees all around. I don't know how Mr. J and I got lucky, with only branches to be rounded up.

This kind of weather event is called a "microburst." It only affected Haterfield and one other community. This meant that the next day, every tree service in the Delaware Valley arrived all at once to begin cleanup.

We've been hearing chain saws and wood chippers ever since. For a solid month. There is still work to do.

This is the second catastrophic microburst we've had around here in 3 years.

I wouldn't give that any more thought, except that John Beckett reports in his blog "Under the Ancient Oaks" that some people are hearing from a nameless Storm Goddess, and they don't know what to make of it. The only thing they're sure about was that this is a Goddess, and not a bored god like Huracan, who has a name.

Hindsight is 20-20, so I'm pretty sure now that this ancient Storm Goddess passed through my neighborhood. I would never have had the courage to invite Her in for tea and pie, but I wish I had at least gone out on the porch to hail Her.

The people hearing from this Storm Goddess are perplexed because She doesn't seem to be part of any historical pantheon. To this I say, why would She be? We only have the tip of the iceberg when it comes to all the deities who have been praised and worshipped by the human race.

Ha ha! As luck has it, I have a shrine in my back yard that is dedicated expressly to all of these ancient and forgotten deities. So as I prepared my shrine for Lughnasadh, I tried to commune with this Storm Goddess.

My feeling, after some meditation, is that this Goddess comes to us from the end of the last Ice Age. She does not relate to any pantheon we have on record. She is not a Goddess of weather, but a Goddess of climate. She has been roused by the warming.

There must have been generations of Paleolithic people who watched their lands change right under them. Or who found their living space inundated by new or swollen rivers. My goodness, the whole Chesapeake Bay went from a river valley to a vast brackish expanse in just 7,000 years. There had to have been some cataclysmic moments in that.

I'm no mystic or seer. Have you noticed? I'm a humorist. But when I went to the Shrine of the Mists and started musing on this Storm Goddess, all I saw was the end of the Ice Age.

My take on this Storm Goddess? She doesn't like it hot. She is the Goddess of Climate.

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Venus

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where the streets are full of tree limbs and the temperature is halfway between scorching and blistering! I'm Anne Johnson, and yesterday I heard the three words that strike a chill into my soul: "Help Me Plan." So I called upon dear Goddess Venus to help me deal with the anxiety.

Please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Venus, the Goddess of Love!

Anne: Here, Your Greatness, try this pie that Mr. J just made. It's peach/blueberry!

Venus: Oh, this is delightful! Now, my good and (somewhat) vigilant follower, what is your concern?

Anne: First the back story. When Mr. J and I got married, I spent two days planning the wedding. Basically I booked a church and preacher, and a lunch at a restaurant. Then I invited 14 people. Started the ball rolling on Tuesday, said "I do" on Thursday.

Venus: Anne. Honestly. Why would you wed in such haste? Were you ?????

Anne: No! I JUST HATE TO PLAN EVENTS. In fact, the only thing I can think of that I'm less suited for than teaching is event planning.

Venus: Oh, I see where this is going. You lit the nicest candle for me on full moon ...

Anne: My daughter is getting married, and she loves a big do! First she wants an engagement party on this Labor Day weekend. Then she wants a wedding on the Chesapeake Bay same time next year.

Venus: You can hire people to take care of these things, you know.

Anne: No I can't! I'm not made of money. I'm not even made of bargaining chips. And this engagement party. She wants me to host it at my house.

Venus (perusing said house): Hmmm. Yep, starting to see your point. This is the moment when I bring up your deficiencies.

Anne (hiding her head): The deceased baby mouse on the altar.

Venus: Yes. The one that had been there so long it was dried out. The one that your daughter noticed, not you! And you have the nerve to petition Me to help you with magic, and now listen to your whining about being poor! I'm a Roman deity. I want my worshippers to be wealthy -- or at least observant enough to keep vermin off the altar!

Anne: Your Greatness, You can look around and see that this house, while not a showplace, is not filthy and crawling with mice! I have no idea how that little corpse got onto the altar. I'm absolutely sure Gamma Cat was involved -- he likes to chase mice up the stairs. But I can't imagine how that thing got onto my altar. Gamma couldn't have put it there himself. But I promise You, I am SO SO SO sorry! I am fully aware that you Greco-Roman deities are easily insulted. How about another slice of pie?

Venus: This pie is all that is saving you from being turned into a toadstool.

Anne: Which I richly deserve. But I did clean everything up and promise to do better!

Venus: That you did. And you'd better be serious, because another such gesture of disrespect will not be healed by pie, even this extremely excellent pie.

Anne: I'm confident that this won't happen again. I've worked myself into a lather wondering if it was an omen.

Venus: Not an omen. Just a sorry coincidence. Which I would forgive instantly if you hadn't ignored your altar for quite some time.

Anne: My altar will never be neglected again! As you know, I spend more time at the shrine in the back yard.

Venus: No excuses! Let's get back to your petition. Do you want me to teach you to be an event planner?

Anne: Can you turn me into a toadstool instead? Large parties give me hives. I don't know why. 

Venus: All right, I will do the whole thing for you with a flick of My shapely wrist! All you have to do is stand up at the wedding and proclaim Me the Creator of the Nuptials and the Best Goddess in the World. Before the couple says "I do."

Anne: A red toadstool with white spots?

Venus: I don't get credit, I don't do the work. Ask anyone.

Anne: I really didn't mean to ask You to do this -- although I bet You could do one bang-up job of it. I just want some celestial advice.

Venus: Here's some real world advice: Pay for professionals. Stop whining about the cost. That's what credit cards are for. I mean, it's not like I see you taking a pilgrimage to Rome or anything.

Anne: Because I don't have any money!

Venus: Here's an idea. Throw a bake sale. Get Mr. J to make six dozen of these pies, and sell them for $50 each.

Anne: It took him three hours to make this single pie.

Venus: Well, you asked for my advice, and there it is. I've given you several admirable options.

Anne: If I become a toadstool, can I really talk to trees? Because I read an article somewhere that said fungi form networks with deciduous plants, and ...

Venus: I am not going to turn you into a toadstool just so you can avoid planning and executing your daughter's wedding! She's a capable girl. Have faith in her. Write a check and show up in a decent dress. Let's go look at your wardrobe.

Anne: OH NO, LET'S NOT! Ah, the stress, the stress!

Venus: Chill, Anne. Write a check, wring your hands, and roast five wild boars on an altar to me.

Anne: And if I do that, You'll help me?

Venus: No, I won't help you. But you'll live. Does your daughter's betrothed have a mother?

Anne: Yes, but she lives in Georgia.

Venus: No matter! Get her to do everything. Dab your eyes, develop "the vapors," and write a check. I'll take the rest of this pie with me.

Anne: But ...

Venus: Mouse on the altar!

Anne: I'll get you a Tupperware container.

Interview with a Bored God: Loki

 Oh, how we at "The Gods Are Bored" have strayed from our central theme: giving downsized deities a public platform! It's what put us on the map, so to speak, and has been a favorite pastime since 2005. Yep, that long.

And mostly this has been an uplifting and fun ride. (Ares is the exception, He speaks in all caps and sets the furniture on fire.)

Today I heard a lot of ruckus outside, and I do love me a good ruckus. Investigating, I found Loki on my front lawn, juggling squirrels. Even though the squirrels were having the time of their lives, I sensed that Loki had something to tell me, so I have invited Him inside. (I'm glad the house is a mess. He loathes a neat house.)

Please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Loki!

Anne: All hail, aww Hell, oh well, howdy, Loki! Sup, cuz?

Loki: More than the usual chaos, Annie.

Anne: You mean extra chaos? Please tell me it's the kind that leaves everyone out of breath laughing and maybe only a few new stains on the upholstery.

Loki (looking around): What could have possessed you to buy a white couch?

Anne: Would you believe it's my second white couch? I know I shouldn't, but I take pride in how little I've learned. Here's a piece of blueberry pie for you, and that wide, wide expanse of white couch ...

Loki: Hey Anne! Watch this!

[Insert laughing emoji]

Anne: At least pick up the big chunks, willya?

Loki: Sure! Because I see you also repainted the walls -- blushy white!

Anne: This is the silliest of questions, seeing as it's You, but is there a reason for Your visit? Other than giving the squirrels a joyride, I mean.

Loki: I am going to ask you to amplify a message for Me.

Anne: Only too glad to oblige, Tricky Sir.

Loki: The message has been reported seriously and factually here. It came through a Seeress.

Anne: For real, for real? I saw a possession ritual once, and it scared me snotless! I'll bet you put that poor Seeress through her paces. But listen. I know that many blog readers don't want to follow a link from one page to another, so can you tell me the message without possessing me? Or could you at least wait to possess me until the weekend, when I'm going to a LARP and there will be water mods?

Loki: Snap, I love water mods! I'm in!

Anne: But the message ...

Loki: Okay. Part one: Dig up the joy! Look at you and everyone around you. Misery, misery everywhere! You know, misery and joy are both contagious, like viruses. Spread the one, get vaxxed for the other.

Anne: But there's so much to be ...

Loki: You want to sprain an ankle before you get to the water mods? What did I just say?

Anne: Spread joy. Okay, I'll try!

Loki: DO I HAVE TO GO ALL YODA ON YOU, WOMAN? Do or do not, there is no try!

Anne: Got it. Another piece of pie?

Loki: Do you have that white quilt on the bed upstairs?

Anne: White is my failing. Is there more to the message?

Loki: Yep. You know all those plans you have to deck your classroom with witchy stuff and witchy books? Revise and edit those plans. It's not a safe time to be a Pagan in America.

Anne: Dang! You are the last one I ever thought I would hear say this. Go on the down low? A Norse God telling me to go on the down low? Knock me over with a feather!

Loki: Done! Shame to ruin such a nice pillow. But if I can be serious for half a minute, you heard Me right. You are more valuable alive than you are as a martyr. And there are a lot of Christian wingnuts out there with guns, looking to create martyrs.

Anne: I've always had a sneaking suspicion that martyrdom is overrated.

Loki: Yep. So dial back the righteous protest over your Supreme Court's religious rulings. Because this is the remainder of my message: Time will catch up with these fools. All of them. Yes, you can expect some rough sledding. It's dangerous right now. We deities are feeling it as well. But when the smoke clears, some people will walk away like Mad Max, bruised but unbeaten. And those people will rebuild.

Anne: But Mad Max didn't rebuild, he just tramped off into the Outback...

Loki: Let's see what happens if I hold this feather pillow up to the fan ...

Anne: NO! NO! I GOT YOU, BRO! I hear you! Only to glad to amplify the message!

Loki: Thanks. And again, for more details, your fans can go here. Now. About those water mods...

Anne: You'll need a swimsuit that's at least passably in-game.

Loki: Everything I own slips nimbly into a LARP.

Anne: I daresay. Anyway, I'm going to the game on Saturday. Meet me here at 9:00, and please don't do that thing with the bugs and the windshield like you did last time.

Loki: Don't worry, Annie. Last time we didn't have anywhere important to go.

Image: Thalia Took

Interview with a Bored Something or Other: The Grim Reaper

 You might want to tiptoe away from this installment of "The Gods Are Bored." I'm sweating bullets myself. No one wants to see this creature coming up the walk.

Anne: Ummm ... uhhhh ... is it my time? Or someone who lives here? There are some ants in the cupboard that you can have ... ahhh .... not my Gamma cat, please. Or Mr. J, he makes such good pies!

Reaper: I have come with a message.

Anne: OH NO WHO IS GONNA GET IT???? 

Reaper: Many will get it. "It" being an untimely visit from me.

Anne: When you say "many," do you mean "many members of Anne's family" or "many people" in general?

Reaper: Many people in general. There are plagues afoot in America.

Anne: Don't I know it! But I got my vaccines, and my booster, and my flu shot, and I'm going to get Shingrix over Christmas ... and...

Reaper: SHUT UP A MINUTE OR ELSE.

Anne: 

Reaper: Your country is in the throes of multiple plagues. And no one seems to care. There's that illness Covid, and there's the opiate epidemic, and the gun thing. I am cutting down people in the prime of life. People who should be home with their families and friends.

Anne:

Reaper: You may reply.

Anne: I was just going to say that both guns and opiate addiction are serious public health crises that no one seems to be taking seriously. There was a teenager out in Wisconsin just this week who got a free pass after shooting three people. To say nothing of all the gun violence in Philadelphia.

Reaper: It is thus everywhere right now.

Anne: I know! Gee, it's almost like the people profiting off guns and opiates don't care about who they harm.

Reaper: And that's the small stuff. The oil, coal, and gas barons are keeping me so busy with all these natural disasters. I have had to hire more staff.

Anne: I daresay. But Sir, or Your Majesty, or Your Grand Wazooness (How does one address the Grim Reaper?), what can I do? I feel like the horse is out of the barn with both opiates and guns. There's no way America can take all the weapons out of circulation. And doctors continue to prescribe opiates in great quantities.

Reaper: I know you are about to acquire some property. Do not buy a gun to "defend" it.

Anne: Wasn't planning to, honestly. The last gun I fired was a BB gun in day camp when I was 10. I almost shot my eye out. But Your Highness, I do so worry about my daughters in the city! There have been more than 450 deaths in Philadelphia this year to date.

Reaper: You're telling ME this?

Anne: Oh! My bad! So sorry! Of course you know all about it! I guess what I have learned in my many years (which I hope will be extended many more) is that the people who have the means of production do not care one whit about how their products are abused. As long as the bottom line is green in their ledger, they couldn't care less. And I am powerless to affect this. I do my part for climate change. I'm sure you don't notice, but it's cold in here because I'm trying to burn less fuel. I also have a clothesline. Soon I will own four acres of trees that will not be cut down. But guns and drugs? I feel so powerless.

Reaper: You are powerless over capitalism. It must run its ugly course.

Anne: I figured as much. Ummm ... can I offer you a warm beverage?

Reaper: No.

Anne: Oh, gee! Look at the time! I have to run to Petco to get some cat food! I mean, I hope there will be a need for cat food ...

Reaper: I am not going to take your cat. Or you. Not today.

Anne: (gulps) Tomorrow?????

Reaper: That is for me to know.

Anne: It sure is, Your Excellency. But I wonder. What will be the ultimate fate of Kyle Rittenhouse?

Reaper: Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Anne: I expect so. Guns are made to be used, and lots of people with guns don't like that kid. So! Umm. Is there anything else today? Because that cat food ...

Reaper: That is all. Have a nice day.

Anne: (big sigh of relief) Oh trust me, I will!

Actually I have plenty of cat food. It was the best dodge I could think of in a pinch. Dang. Close call.

Photo found here.

It's Liberating To Be Hated: Interview with Justitia

 Howdy howdy howdy and welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" I'm Anne Johnson, and I have been saying the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag since 1964. It has gotten old. So for the past 25 years or more, I've been leaving out the "liberty and justice for all" part. Because, get real. Where's the justice in American society?

But it's a trifle sensitive trying to explain that to my guest tonight, Justitia, the Goddess of ... you guessed it ... justice! She joined me for dinner, and we're sitting here digesting, so let's give this lovely Lady and her balance scales a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome!

Anne: Good evening, great and mighty Justitia! What did you think of the chicken cacciatore?

Justitia: Well, it was good and bad. Tasted fine, but the portion was too small.

Anne: Oh gosh! Sorry! Do you want seconds?

Justitia: I have rendered my decision on the matter. Case closed.

Anne: To be honest, Your Honor, I could be persuaded to go out for a soft serve ice cream.

Justitia: Motion is approved! You may approach the bench.

Anne: But before we sojourn to the ice cream shop, I want to ask your opinion on something.

Justitia: Opinions are my thing. Justly rendered, of course.

Anne: Of course! Well, Justitia, it has come to my attention that someone very high in the chain of command at my workplace has an extraordinarily low opinion of me. So low, in fact, that this person thought students would be better served by a substitute teacher than by me.

Justitia: Well, what are the students being served? If it's chicken cacciatore, the substitute might be more generous.

Anne (aside) These Roman deities are so human, aren't they? (to Justitia) No food involved, just education. A teacher is out sick, and I offered to cover her class. The principal was all for it, but the higher-up wasn't having it. 

Justitia: It's probably about money.

Anne: Nah, money's not a factor. I know from talking to ex employees of my firm that this particular power-broker holds me in very low esteem. My problem is, this person may come in to evaluate me at some point this year.

Justitia: Why, how very liberating!

Anne: What do you mean?

Justitia: If you know that they hold you in low esteem, then no matter how brilliantly you perform, it won't matter. So why perform at all? Everything this person says about you is tainted by bias, thus rendering the person incapable of forming a true opinion of your worth.

Anne: You know, I didn't think of that! You're absolutely right! Nothing I do or say is going to convince this person I'm a good teacher. I could get a citation from the governor, and I would still be stuck with the nines.

Justitia: Therefore you should not expect justice from the person, nor court it, nor even care. Knowing you can't please this individual frees you from having to try.

Anne: Justitia, Great and Mighty Goddess, I am going to fix you up with a to-go container of chicken cacciatore! And here, take these bagels ... they are terrific. And here's a handful of Halloween candy, mostly Snickers.

Justitia: Annnnd?????

Anne: Soft serve ice cream! I'll get my coat and car keys!

Interview with a Bored God: Tezcatlipoca

 Hello out there in the Google-space, it's time for another installment of "The Gods Are Bored!" I'm just back from a little week-long visit to the Chesapeake Bay. It was hot. There were crabs.

So I got home last night, steaming and exhausted, and I turned on CNN in time to see this bearded Branson billionaire being interviewed about his trip into space. He was so damn effervescent about seeing the Earth from that height. Until the CNN interviewer asked him if the experience gave him an increased sense of what he might do to save said Earth. Then he hemmed and hawed, because, like, should he care?

Next up, Jeff Bezos. Going into space in his craft week after next.

Enough of this, already! Let's get a Bored God to put a stop to it. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Tezcatlipoca, sacred Sky Deity to the Aztec people!

Anne: All glory, laud, and honor, great God! Must say, Your people had the right idea about how a deity should look.

Tezcatlipoca: You called, white woman. I answered. Get to the point.

Anne: Yes, Sir. Well, I just have a simple petition, and since You are a Sky God, I thought I might put it to you.

Tezcatlipoca: Don't tell Me what I am! I know what I am! What's your petition?

Anne: I was just wondering if You could kick these space travelers to the curb. I mean, they are getting right there in the sweet zone, basically Your living room. Can't You give them the boot with Your onyx foot?

Tezcatlipoca: You mean, like I should have done with those conquistadors?

Anne: Yes! You've got the gist!

Tezcatlipoca: And you think that would be the end of it. I mean, I could crush these assholes like bugs, but just turn over another rock, you're going to find more bugs.

Anne: One certainly understands Your cynicism. But with all due respect, the conquistadors never soiled your carpeting. These rich fucks building their own spaceships are leaving tracks of dirt everywhere they go. Now it's landing right on Your stoop. I don't know, that would bother me.

Tezcatlipoca: Are you talking about that "Aguirre the Wrath of God" wannabe that disturbed My nap the other day?

Anne: Yes! Exactly! Blonde guy, conquistador to the bone! He woke You up? Mmmm. I mean, I'm not You, but I wouldn't have that.

Tezcatlipoca: I just didn't see the point of flicking My wrist at that gnat.

Anne: Trouble is, there are more gnats on the way. They may start making a habit of it. 

Tezcatlipoca: That won't do. I just re-did my stoop.

Anne: There's another one planning to invade Your space in just eight days. And let me just tell you, this man has no respect for stoops. He flings stuff at stoops millions and millions of times a day! Thinks like a conquistador in every respect.

Tezcatlipoca: He'd better not fling something at My stoop!

Anne: He will, great God, and it's likely to be something useless like a shoe horn or a pair of yoga pants.

Tezcatlipoca: How many days until this man dares to invade My home? It will be his last dare.

Anne: Eight. And if I might add, now You're showing the right spirit.

Tezcatlipoca: Thank you for the alert. I will unleash the Serpents and Jaguars. He'll rue the day he soiled anyone's stoop!

Anne: All glory, laud, and honor.

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Queen Brighid the Bright

My goodness, have we ever strayed from our Mission Statement here at The Gods Are Bored! How long has it been since a deity sat for an interview? Can't even recall the last time. Thankfully, Imbolc is upon us, and Queen Brighid the Bright has settled in by the fire with a piping hot cup of Irish breakfast tea. Please give a warm and wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to the Goddess Brighid the Bright!

Anne: How's the tea, great Goddess?

Queen Brighid the Bright: First rate! Your firewood is not well seasoned, though. 

Anne: Our first shipment was so well-seasoned that we burnt through it all. Now we're stuck with this smoky stuff that sizzles and leaves creosote in our chimney.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Well, we can't have that, now can we? (Blows on the fire, and it leaps with purple flame.)

Anne: Snap! Thank you!

Queen Brighid the Bright: Anne. Anne! What's this?

Anne: Emmm .... the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle? (hides her head)

Queen Brighid the Bright: Well! I'm not inclined to scold you, Anne, but what the hell?

Anne: It's a pandemic, Goddess. I'm basically in quarantine. So I sit around here and cross stitch and do the Sunday crossword puzzle.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Like a geezer.

Anne: Oh, you cut me to the quick! Don't think I don't know that these stodgy hobbies are pathetic. But take it from me, they beat Twitter.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Twitter? You mean the sound birds make?

Anne: Close enough. But fear not, dear Goddess. I have enrolled in an online course called "Navigating Tower Time". I'm going to start it tomorrow.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Well, see that you do! We don't want to get lax in our spiritual path, do we?

Anne: It's hard not to get lax in everything when I'm pent up at home, day after day, week after week, month after month.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Chin up, Anne! Imbolc is here, the lambs are being born, it's halfway to equinox, and my goodness! Your larder is bulging.

Anne: Pandemic supplies.

Queen Brighid the Bright: What are these six bottles of Clorox all in a row?

Anne: Five mistakes based on a shortage.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Four dozen rolls of toilet paper?

Anne: We ordered it in bulk from Amazon.

Queen Brighid the Bright: How are Amazons to work with? I should imagine they drive a hard bargain. I've never met one.

Anne: They're ruthless, and they dominate the landscape. Great Goddess, will you listen to a petition?

Queen Brighid the Bright: Of course! I'm not as bored as I used to be, but I still grant petitions! What can I help you with, Anne?

Anne: Place your gentle hand on my daughters.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Done. Anything else?

Anne: Protect me from COVID-19.

Queen Brighid the Bright: Perhaps The Morrigan would do that better. She is crackerjack with corvids.

Anne: COVID-19 is the name of the disease. It doesn't have anything to do with crows.

Queen Brighid the Bright: What a ridiculous name! What happened to descriptive disease names like smallpox and yellow fever?

Anne: Good question. Maybe people would take it more seriously if it was called "drowning on dry land."

Queen Brighid the Bright: Well, whatever it's called, I'll protect you from it. Looks like you've got all kinds of solid Appalachian magic going on already. But I'm always glad to pitch in.

Anne: I imagine you'll be really busy on Imbolc, but if you have a chance, pop in. I have a wonderful smudge stick that my daughter The Fair gave me for Yule. I'm going to purify the whole house.

Queen Brighid the Bright: As well you should. And keep the faith, Anne. Quarantines don't last forever. It only seems that way.

Anne: And how, Goddess. And how.

Imbolc 2020

[Enter Queen Brighid the Bright]

Brighid: Anne? Anne! Are you home? My goodness, look at this place! Gamma! Where's Anne? Oh, look at Gamma's cat bowl! It's empty!

Anne: Oh, Goddess! Look at me. It's the first Imbolc on a Saturday that I can remember, and I'm just so low and listless.

Brighid: This is so unlike you, Anne.

Anne: I'm worn to a frazzle, Goddess. It's more than the day-to-day grind. I haven't had my usual vim and vigor since 2016. For all my talk of fighting the good fight, it just gets harder every day. My creativity is shot, my daughters are struggling, my husband is nocturnal. I've lost touch with some people I love. My farm is gone, my youth is gone, and there's nothing ahead but Republicans and corona virus.

Brighid: Dear child, have faith! The winter is turning.

Anne: What winter? We haven't had winter! It has snowed for one hour. It's been warm as March and April since December, which was warm as September. And September was a veritable July.

Brighid: I have noticed this curious change in temperature. It does confuse Me. But in the long, thousands-years history of humankind, the weather has ebbed and flowed. Sometimes it's colder. Sometimes it's warmer. But My light never changes. Always, always in this week the light seeps back into the land. Always, always in these weeks the blackness of the morning gives way to soft gray. Don't pay heed to the warmth, Anne, pay heed to the light.

Anne: A beautiful sentiment, Goddess! I wish I could feel the light. But the darkness seems to reign supreme. Our nation and Your beautiful green land are both under a blight. Here they say "Make America Great Again," and over there they say "Brexit." Both are a curse.

Brighid: And yet the light returns. As it did in the days of yore. You must keep the faith. Light will shine into this mess. Take My word for it.

Anne: Oh, Goddess. How could I not take your word? You're a Goddess. And a smart one. Beautiful, too. No wonder you've inspired so much poetry and art!

Brighid: Flattery is one thing. Tea and muffins are another. Look at this nice cream and butter I brought!

Anne: Well, I do have some muffins ... but they're low-calorie bran.

Brighid: We'll make do, Anne. Fresh butter makes the most ridiculous muffin taste good.

Anne: Hold that optimistic thought, Goddess. I'll warm up the muffins.

Brighid: And fill Gamma's bowl. He looks hungry!

Interview with Bored Satellites: The Moons of Jupiter

Howdy and welcome to “The Gods Are Bored!” Do you want two tickets to paradise? Well then, we have to ask, Which paradise do you want to book? There are so many.

I’m not big on casting aspersions at any religion, because you never know what your next door neighbor is doing in the case of praise and worship. One can only imagine what my neighbors think of me, with my shrine and my candles and my drumming on certain nights.

It’s awfully hard, though, to look at some of these deity sets in a totally non-judgmental way, especially in light of the abortion laws being passed in certain who-the-hell-knows-what-they’re-thinking states. Suppose you are raped, or mistreated by the man who impregnates you? Should you have to carry an evil person’s child to term?

What better way to seek a response to this question than to interview some Ancients about it? The Moons of Jupiter will be visible with binoculars this week on Monday night, so their namesakes have arrived for a chat.  Please give a warm, wonderful “Gods Are Bored” welcome to Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto – the Moons of Jupiter!

Anne: First, Ancient Ones, I assure you that this is a safe space. I do not allow Zeus, Hera, or any of their fellow High Deities here unless the premises is clear of mortals. I even lock Gamma the cat in the basement!

Io: Thank you for that. Zeus seduced me, and jealous Hera turned me into a white bull.

Europa: Thank you for that. Zeus turned Himself into a white bull, took me to Crete, and seduced me.

Callisto: Thanks you for that. Zeus disguised Himself as Artemis so He could fool me into having sex with him.

Ganymede: Thank you for that. Zeus abducted me and put me to work carting around wine to Himself and His friends. Oh, and he molested me too.

Anne: For the love of living fruit flies! Gives you some insight as to how Christianity established itself. Better one Jealous God with only two paramours than a bunch of squabbling rapist Gods and raging Wife Goddesses, turning poor mortals into bulls and trees and such. And all of you had Zeus’s children, right?

Io, Europa, and Callisto: Yes we did. No choice in the matter.

Ganymede: My gender saved me from this fate.

Anne: Wait. What? Ganymede, you got the same foul treatment, but because you are male, you didn’t have to carry children to term.

Ganymede: Correct.

Anne: I’m seeing yet another major crack in the core of the anti-abortion laws. So, all you mortal ladies who were preyed upon by Zeus, what were these offspring like who you had to bear to Him, even though you were duped, seduced, and raped by this ancient criminal?

Europa: Our children were handfuls. Chips off the old block: physically stronger, more willful, narcissistic, and ambitious than your run-of-the-mill mortal child.

Io: Nor were they particularly heroic, even if they were called heroes and were given cities to rule. They continued their Daddy’s ways.

Anne: Well, did Zeus at least provide them child support? Was he a presence in their lives?

All: Nope.

Anne: You know, it's bad enough that Zeus treated you that way, but you had Hera after you too. What was that all about?

Io: That one's easy. Zeus always told her it was us doing the seducing!

Anne: Works in the trailer park, so of course it would work in Olympus. It figures Hera would never turn Zeus into a tree or a bear or something. Me personally? I would have turned Him into a storm drain at the dog park.

Europa: You know what makes matters worse? We are still satellites around Him! Talk about humiliation.

Anne: I know. Damn. Then again, Europa, you have a continent named after you. The rest of you are zodiac signs and constellations and stuff too, right? And the only thing I know named Zeus is a Great Dane with prodigious bowels.

Callisto: Anne. Please tell us it gets better!

Anne: Honestly, I had high hopes for this country for awhile, but it's sliding backwards into darkness faster than I ever thought it would. But I'm determined to live to see AOC elected president.

Callisto: Who is AOC?

Anne: Is Zeus lurking?

Io: He's in Vegas.

[Anne shows her guests a photograph of Alexandria Ocacio Cortez.]

All: Ohhhhhhh!

Ganymede: If Zeus gets a look at her, he'll turn her into some kind of creature...

Anne: Ha! I doubt it. She already deals with Fox News. Zeus will be no match. Anyone want a scone?

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Holda

It's staying light a little longer. Have you noticed? This morning when I set off for work, the sky was pearly and a few birds were chirping lustfully. All is well with the world.

But make no mistake. Winter is still well under way. Ask anyone in Washington State. They'll tell you. What better time to tender an invitation to Holda, bored (and misunderstood) Goddess of the Germanic peoples? Spread a few flax seeds, brew up some good lager, and She'll be only too glad to stop by. Please give a warm and wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Holda, the Winter Goddess!

Anne: All hail, great Snowy Goddess, vilified and persecuted by the Christians ... portrayed as a hateful hag, when really you are beautiful, nurturing, and helpful to humankind!

Holda: Yes, yes. That's me. Marginalized and misunderstood, like so many of my Sisters. Your cat has some mats in his fur. Shall I groom him?

Anne: What a kind offer! Please do. Oh, would you look at that! He never holds that still for me! Holda, I invited you here because I'm quite braced. I think you have a new praise and worship team!

Holda: Who, me? Couldn't be.

Anne: Want to see?

Holda: Yes sirree!

Anne: Aren't they beautiful? A gathering of women who are determined to nurture this nation!

Holda: They certainly have good taste in attire.

Anne: I thought of You the moment I saw them. There, I said, are acolytes of Holda, channeling Her snowy gowns and Her generous spirit.

Holda: How did they come to assemble in that place?

Anne: They came to listen to a despot who they plan to oppose. They chose the snowy white garments in honor of women's rights (and also to honor You).

Holda: I'm so touched! It gets tedious, you know, when the only white you see is on a bride.

Anne: I couldn't agree more ... but You have to admit it's a hard color to keep clean. These ladies aren't Goddesses. They have to be mindful of pesky stains. And yet they chose Your luminous shade. You should be proud.

Holda: I am! This is quite encouraging! What can I do to assist them?

Anne: All glory, laud, and honor to You for wanting to be helpful! Go, Holda, and sit among them. Be by their sides as they seek to restore balance to our troubled land.

Holda: You mean it? An assignment with dignity? I'll hop right on it!

Anne: No one is asking me, but what I think this modern nation needs is way more attention paid to ancient Goddesses. Go therefore, Holda. You're no ugly old hag trying to eat children! Show them how a Goddess does it. You're perfect for the job!

Holda: I accept. And in gratitude for the job, I'll send you a nice, bracing snowstorm.

Anne: With no sleet mixed in.

Holda: Hold the sleet, hold the freezing rain.

Anne: And ditch the wintry mix. We get that here all the time.

Holda: Snow it is for you, dear Anne. Deep, white, pure, and powerful.

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Ma'at

Good day, and welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" This is the site where we designate deities to duties that need to be done. Yes, reader, you too can become a Prayer Warrior -- just choose a God or Goddess who will heed your call, and then pray your heart out.

And boy, am I praying today! I've had the scouts out everywhere, looking for Ma'at, the sacred ancient Egyptian Goddess of Truth and Justice.

Used to be, I didn't have a bit of trouble getting such ancient and venerable deities to join me for a bracing beverage and a fireside chat. In these times, They are not as accommodating. My first message from Ma'at was: "Busy sorting wing feathers. Call me back when that lying sack of sated dung beetles is no longer your leader."

Can you blame her one bit? But I petitioned again, more urgently this time, and she has joined me for scones. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Ma'at, Goddess of Justice!

Anne: Thank you so much for coming! You must be furious about the lack of justice in America right now.

Ma'at: Honestly, Anne? When was America ever a just nation? Just because Americans recite "and liberty and justice for all" every damn day doesn't make it happen.

Anne: You've got a point, o winged wonder. But Ma'at ... I've been searching high and low for you because America needs you, right now! It's a small but crucial assignment, and I sure hope you'll accept it.

Ma'at: Well, tell me what it is, and I'll check my Outlook calendar to see if I'm available.

Anne: Snap, I'm impressed, Goddess! I can't figure out Outlook calendar to save my life! Not surprised deities can do it, though.

Ma'at: So, what is it, and when do you need me?

Anne: It's this, and I'm about 10,000 times more serious than usual: Our great justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, is having health problems. She's 85 and still on the job -- trying to hold out for a sensible president to replace her, instead of the Orange Gibbon currently in charge.

Ma'at: 85, you say? That's advanced age, right there. Any kind of health problem or surgery can really take a toll on a person of that many years.

Anne: I know, I know! I'm worried sick! Ma'at, will you please, please, please drop whatever else you're doing and take up protective watch over Ruth Bader Ginsburg?

Ma'at: That's a pretty cheeky request, Anne! You think I don't have anything else to do? I'm busy all the time! I have a thriving praise and worship team, not to mention all the superior art work to supervise.

Anne: Dear Goddess, it is with the utmost humility that I approach you and petition you to protect Justice Ginsburg. I'll put it to you this way: Who cribbed your holy edicts and passed them off as original?

Ma'at: The Judeo-Christians, that's who!

Anne: Well, a good passel of them are praying that Ruth Bader Ginsburg dies.

Ma'at: Say no more. I'll put my other appointments on hold. Where can I find this Justice Ginsburg?

Anne: Washington, DC, I think. She works there, and if she's resting at home, I assume her home is there. Not sure, though. But you're a Goddess, Ma'at! You can find this person, can't you?

Ma'at: Consider it done! However, I require something from you (and whoever else reads this) in return. Please petition Me to do this important job. I want to be recognized for my contributions to *ahem* American "justice."

Anne: Trust me, Ma'at. I'm going to be praying to You daily. This is some serious shit here. I have children to think of -- daughters and students -- who need Justice Ginsburg alive and on the bench. To my three readers, I say (and I have never said this before) ... Please petition the Goddess Ma'at to preserve and protect Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg! We need her. Oh, please, Ma'at .....

My Dinner with Persephone

Hello, and welcome to The Gods Are Bored! What did you do today? I stripped wallpaper! I know, right?  Contain your jealousy, reader. It's unseemly.

I've gotta say I'm very surprised to have a dinner guest tonight. I would have thought she'd be home with her husband. But please give a warm and wonderful welcome to Persephone, Queen of Hades!

Anne: Persephone! This is ... unexpected. Yesterday was Equinox, and I thought...

Persephone: Maybe you've noticed, the seasons change slower than they used to.

Anne: But I would have thought your calendar was more dependent upon the hours of sunlight than the temperature of the atmosphere. Anyway, come on in! Mr. J is making spaghetti.

Persephone: Zounds! What happened in your living room?

Anne: Well, I got the first layer of wallpaper off, and now I'm starting on the underside, which is easier, but it all takes so much time...

Persephone: You need help?

Anne: Aren't you due down in Hell?

Persephone: That's just it, Anne. I'm tired of being due. I'm tired of being bossed around by my mother, and I'm tired of being at the beck and call of my husband. Where do I have a say in all this?

Anne: Indeed you have a clear-cut case for #MeToo. But I thought you actually loved Hades.

Persephone: He can be very cold, Anne. And he thinks he's better than me. Okay, he's a god and all that, but a girl has feelings, you know?

Anne: Well then, stay here with your mom! You should see how she decks things out in the fall.

Persephone: Nope. No can do. For the past two hundred years she's been getting more and more feverish. Her temper is a force of nature. She's crabby all the time.

Anne: (aside) "Crabby" is not an adjective I would ever attach to a deity. But that's just me. (to Persephone) To be honest, your majesty, I am a real believer in free will. It does seem to me that you get shuttled back and forth with little say in the matter.

Persephone: Exactly.

Anne: So what do you propose to do?

Persephone: You have several spare bedrooms now ... and your Gamma cat is such a fluffy sweetheart ...

Anne: And I am totally cool with putting you up for as long as you like, so long as your spouse doesn't ... how shall I say this?  Take me to task for it?

Persephone: I don't know what he'll do. I've never stood up to him before.

Anne: Can you appreciate that this puts me in a bit of a spot, considering I'm a mortal?

Persephone: This old sofa of yours needs all new upholstery. I'd love to take a crack at it.

Anne: Sorely, sorely tempting! And you don't even have to bribe me, Seph. I can feel your pain. Dragged off to be married, then tricked into eating one seed so you'd have to stay, then having to deal with your mom's moods...

Persephone: I know that Cloacina stayed here with you awhile. And Walt Whitman too.

Anne: Walt only spent the night. He has a house in Camden. I have to ask, though: What happens to the climate if you hang out here at my place in Snobville? Won't your mom just keep the summer sun beaming down until we all bake like biscuits?

Persephone: We don't have to tell her I'm here. Or him either.

Anne: Oh, sheesh! For the love of fruit flies! You're going to have Mother Nature and the God of Death on the search, and they'll wind up in my living room?

Persephone: Damn. Yeah, you're right. But what am I to do? I'm sick and tired of both of them.

Anne: I can dig it. Nothing worse than thwarted potential. Here's an idea: Cloacina is down in the Carolinas, frantically trying to keep waterways free of poisons and harmful bacteria. I'm sure she could use some help. It's chaotic down there right now, so Hades would have a heck of a time chasing you down.

Persephone: I would like to do something useful.

Anne: Well then, that's my recommendation. What do you think?

Persephone: I like it!

Anne: And you wouldn't have to leave until morning. Dinner's almost ready! And the guest room is the only clean place in the house.

Persephone: Thanks, Anne! We can braid some trim for your upholstery, talk a little politics ...

Anne: No politics for me, Seph. When I say, "You do you, Persephone," that pretty much sums up my entire political philosophy. Say, is that a new tattoo?

Persephone: You like it? I designed it myself.

Texting a Bored Goddess: Persephone

Anne
seph where r u? i'm cold af


Persephone
i'm home w/ my man <3 <3


Anne
plz plz plz hop on da
train!!!!


Persephone
ive had enough of my mom im staying
home for the summer


Anne
if u dont come there wont be
summer!!!!!


Persephone
my mom doesnt respect my
man its soooo obvious


Anne
u no u missed easter


Persephone
for realz? early


Anne
not that early seph ...
come on its supposed 2
snow tmr


Persephone
why should i care
down here im queen
up there im princess
and u try goin 6 months
w/out ur man! Im 3000
yrs old i deserve respect


Anne
well u no how moms are
but i think ur mom likes hades
come on she is crying, be a sport


Anne
seph? u there?


Anne
SEPH PLZ


Anne
discounted easter candy
chocolate bunnies 74 cents
at shoprite


Anne
peeps at deep discount
and still soft ... aren't u
sick of pomegranates


Anne
????????


Persephone
k k k tell my mom 2
pick me up 30th st station
2:00 on wed. It's baseball
season & it's all He watches
and He likes the Yankees


Anne
YAY! will do <3 u seph

Interview with a Bored God: Dionysus

Boy, am I ever in a slump! Here I sit, it's Spring Break -- the longest holiday I will have until next Xmas -- and the weather is straight outta February. To make matters worse, I'm now gun-shy about writing on this platform, since the Trickster God of keyboarding wants to blot out all my hard work.

But soft! There's someone at the door! Oh. My. Goodness. I wish this God was more welcome here than he is. All the same, let's give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Dionysus, God of boozy parties!

Dionysus: Anne, baby! Spring Break! It's time to partayyy!

Anne: Don't you remember, Dion? I packed it in. I don't drink anymore. I just went to a wedding last weekend, and I didn't even have a glass of champagne.

Dionysus: And you wonder why you're so unhappy? I've got about 10 picker-uppers that will light your fire.

Anne: Nah, bro, I've been off the sauce for five years now. Mostly I don't miss it.

Dionysus: Don't expect me to nominate you for a position as a nymph or a dryad, or any of that! Grapes are good. Especially fermented.

Anne: Stop! You're not cheering me up! You're making it worse!

Dionysus: Well, if you're not jonesing for some vino, why else would you be depressed?

Anne: Do you want the whole list, or just the top ten?

Dionysus: Killjoy! Look, there's a sports bar within walking distance! Go up there and watch the NCAA finals, grab yourself a brewski. You've even got a local team in the game ... and I recall that when you and I were bffs, back in the day, you were a Michigan fan.

Anne: Pass.

Dionysus: Whoa, you are definitely in Downerville. Catch a God up. What's the problem?

Anne: We've got the worst president in my lifetime. He's so bad, I can't even joke about him.

Dionysus: As bad as Caligula?

Anne: Getting there.

Dionysus: ... Because no one could joke about him either.

Anne: This cold spring is a bummer too.

Dionysus: Come to sunny Italy with me! We'll eat some fish, some pasta, drink some red wine ...

Anne: STOP ALREADY! All I want to do right now is buy myself a big plate of pasta and a bottle of wine! You're a terrible God.

Dionysus (proudly): I do my part. Hey! Where's that cute little tabby cat?

Anne: She died.

Dionysus: Aww. I liked her. But ... you had a birthday not long ago, right?

Anne: Okay, I'm usually polite, but fuck you. I don't want to contemplate my age. Or my dead cat.

Dionysus: Well, surely you've been posting witty stuff on your blog ...

Anne: Not a thing.

Dionysus: Anne. You've got to get a grip ... around a nice crystal wine goblet! Everything looks bright through the bottom of the glass.

[Dionysus spills a whole bottle of finest cabernet on Anne's sofa.]

Dionysus: Oooops!

Anne: Gods damn it! Things were bad enough around here! Look what you've done to my upholstery! Ruined!  That's it. Out you go.

Dionysus: All right. Be that way! I'm off to the sports bar!

Anne: Knock yourself out. If there's anything worse than thinking about Donald Trump in a sober fashion, it would be thinking about Donald Trump after a bottle of whatever that awful deity just dumped on my furniture. Guess I could take a small comfort in that.

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Cloacina

All Hail, and welcome to The Gods Are Bored! We're now in our 12th year, and up to 202 followers! In a nation of 325 million people, we're standing tall at the rock bottom of the heap.

But la di dah, we believe in the Divine and all goodness! And just between us ... have you seen the headlines on the busy God's followers these days? How low can they go? Disgraceful. No better time than the present to bliss out with a loving Goddess who wants you to have a healthy lifestyle and plenty of clean, clear water! Please give a warm, wonderful, Gods Are Bored welcome to Cloacina, Goddess of Sanitation Management!

Anne: Look, Cloacina, I painted the powder room! I know it's your favorite room in the whole house. What do you think of it now?

Cloacina: It's beautiful! I do wish you would put a mosaic tile on the floor, though.

Anne: Can't live like a Caesar on the salary of a peasant, dear Goddess.

Cloacina: What was that object you pulled out of the water throne while the top was off?

Anne: (aside) Isn't it cute? She calls the toilet a "water throne!" (to Cloacina) Funny you should ask. It was a paperweight from the Ronald Reagan Library, sent to Mr. J more than a decade ago by a clueless friend in California. I put it in the water throne, feeling it deserved to be there.

Cloacina: Who was this "Ronald Reagan?"

Anne: A Caesar. I thought he was the worst. Little did I know.

Cloacina: If this was a bad Caesar, why take out the paperweight?

Anne: Well, it had gotten a bit calcified after all that time. Besides, I need to make room in the water throne for something that deserves to be in there even more.

Cloacina: What could that possibly be?

Anne:

I found it in a strip club parking lot last week!

Cloacina: Anne, you might want to think twice about this. An item like this might clog the water throne, and then the dear thing won't work.

Anne: No worries, Goddess. This hat is cheaply manufactured by over-extended, poverty-stricken workers. It will fade on the first flush and dissolve within a week. Which hopefully will become a metaphor for the Caesar who is selling it.

Cloacina: Oh well, you needn't worry! I have learned all about your water thrones and the piping in your house, and I will keep everything flowing brilliantly!

Anne: Thus saving me plumbing bills ... O Great and Mighty Goddess!!!

Cloacina: I hope you don't mind if I'm late for dinner. All that wind yesterday brought down a lot of leaves. There are storm drains to be seen to.

Anne: And you are just the Goddess for the task! Work Your magic, Cloacina! It is an honor beyond measure, having You in my household. Blessed be.

Interview with a Bored God: EndodaWorld

Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Oh by all the fruit flies on the watermelon, there's a wild bored god here tonight! He's dressed in animal skins, and he looks pretty dusty. Thank goodness he's content to sit on the floor! I showed him how to use my can opener (I'm old school, I've got a hand-held), and he's opening all the cans in my pantry. Which is, yes, annoying, but he looks kind of hungry.

This deity doesn't speak anything like any language living or dead. Luckily I have Dr. Google. Dr. Google knows everything. It appears that this god is EndodaWorld, sacred to the extremely, extremely, extremely, extremely ancient peoples of the Fertile Crescent. Hard as it is to believe, Dr. Google can actually translate this diced-tomato-fixated deity for us.

Anne: Please, EndodaWorld, have another can of tomatoes! (aside) Glad he likes 'em, I'm too tired to bake a pie.

EndodaWorld: What are these delicious things?

Anne: Tomatoes.

EndodaWorld: Why didn't my people have these?

Anne: Hmmmm. Oh, I know the answer to that! Your people lived in the Old World. Tomatoes are a New World plant. Europeans didn't have them until Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

EndodaWorld: Who is Columbus?

Anne: Some dude. Oh! Ummm, Campbell's soup is better if you warm it up.

EndodaWorld: I don't see a fire.

Anne: I'll get right on that. So, EndodaWorld, tell me about yourself. What's that powder you're wearing? Looks like you fell into a vat of talc.

EndodaWorld: This? It's the stuff that fell out of the sky. For ten years.

[Anne takes a gentle dab with a Q-tip, gives the dust to Dr. Google.]

Dr. Google: Volcanic ash.

Anne: Wow! This fell from the sky for ten years?

EndodaWorld: Sometimes it came down dry, sometimes it came down wet. Either way, it killed a lot of people and a lot of gods.

Anne: How did you survive?

EndodaWorld: I didn't have to survive. I got hired after two years of famine by priests who blamed all the old deities and promised I would get this whole ash thing under control.

Anne: So that was after two years. What happened by Year Eight?

EndodaWorld: I got fired. It was a short tour.  My praise and worship team mostly died.

Anne: Guess you could say they bit the dust.

EndodaWorld: I beg your pardon?

Anne: Never mind. Totally tasteless joke. So let me understand. Some volcano erupted and spewed ash into the air for a decade, and it wasted a lot of people all over the place. I guess animals too.

EndodaWorld: Animals, plants, insects. It got very, very quiet. The people who wanted to survive had to migrate and fight for a spot in the areas that didn't get the dust.

Anne: Was your praise and worship team living in the shadow of this volcano?

EndodaWorld: What's a volcano?

Anne: Whoa! Ash falling from the sky for a decade, and you didn't even live near the volcano? Dr. Google, can you shed some light on this?

Dr. Google: This deity was briefly worshiped during the catastrophic eruption of the Yellowstone Caldera super volcano 645,000 years ago.

Anne: EndodaWorld, you are officially the oldest deity I've ever had the pleasure of meeting! Probably by a factor of ten.

EndodaWorld: Let's not talk about ten.

Anne: I read just the other day that the Yellowstone Caldera could fire up and erupt with just a few decades notice. It could happen any time. And you're here with an evocative name, warning me that such an eruption would be the end of the world.

EndodaWorld: Exactly.

Anne: Except it wasn't.

EndodaWorld: Who are you to argue? I was there!!!

Anne: But if it was the end of the world, there wouldn't be any people anywhere. Or animals, or plants, or insects. But we've got plenty of all of those things.

EndodaWorld: Well, Miss Priss, let me tell you: If you had been there in my time, you would have felt like it was the end of the world!

Anne: I daresay. And if that scary super volcano erupts in thirty years, it will certainly be the end of the world for me. But not for everyone. So long Anne, Mr. J, cats Beta and Gamma, beloved daughters, entire population of Philadelphia ... but not the human race. EndodaWorld, you've got to admit that some tribes of humankind survived the decade of ash rain.

EndodaWorld: Didn't do me any good. I've never gotten even a nibble on my resume, from then until now.

Anne: Speaking of nibble, could you please forego that last can of black beans? I need those for my soup.

EndodaWorld: But .....

Anne: Oh, never mind! Munch away!


I'm going to take a lesson from this hungry bored god. Apparently the shit hit the fan, and people stuck in the catastrophe blamed all of their gods and dumped them. The people drafted a new god, but that god couldn't fix the problem. In fact, it must have gotten a lot worse. Now, what does that remind me of?

Cram It All into One Post

You know it happens. Your computer is tooling along, purring like a kitten, and then it does a little burp. From the burp it goes into slow motion, slower and slower, and that's how come I'm spending Sunday afternoon at the Snobville Public Library.

My school blocked Blogger. It was a dark day. Now it's laptop or library. And whoa, this library got a million dollar face lift since last I blogged from here! It's all done over in muted grays and white pillars, and I'm in a teen room that has bean bag chairs and neon pink squares of carpet. And teens, reading. On a Sunday afternoon. Somehow I find this hopeful.

On Saturday April 29, my daughter The Heir and I attended and participated in the Peoples' Climate March in Philadelphia. I think there might have been a thousand of us. We were way dwarfed by the NFL Draft festivities on Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Probably more than a million sports fans who don't care about the climate attended that. Boy, did we get stares from the NFL fans! At least everyone was polite ... maybe a first for Eagles followers, who notoriously booed Santa Claus and still keep a judge and courtroom on site at the stadium.

It was April 29, and it was hot. Like, July hot. I understand it was like this in Washington, DC as well.

When my computer recovers (which it is sure to in the hands of my very capable Yoda), I'll post the photos I took.

After the march ended, appropriately with chanting, "Water is Sacred. Water is life" on a bridge over the Schuykill River, I made my way home and curled up with the New York Times Magazine. Call me a dinosaur, but I love my paper copy of the newspaper. Anyway, the whole April 23 issue was about climate change, and by the time I finished reading it, dear bored Goddess Gaia had joined me on the front porch. Indeed, She does look feverish and irritable these days.

I made Gaia a nice cool smoothie, and we chatted a bit. Folks, it made me feel so much better! She told me all about how that big meteor hit the planet back in the dinosaur days, and how many species were totally wiped off the face of Her in the blink of an eye. She reminded me that, even though She is not everlasting, She is still in Her prime and very very resilient.

Gaia admits that humans are not a great contribution to Her history, but She says it will all work out, because it's inevitable that some virus or bacterium will evolve to wipe the slate clean. She's not drawing up blueprints, but She darkly hinted that, if we drive the horseshoe crab to extinction, she will assemble an advisory board to assess the whole "person" thing. (When she said "person," She rolled Her eyes. Not a good sign.) Gaia is a huge fan of horseshoe crabs. Can't say I blame her. They're basically adorable.

I loaded an ice pack for Gaia and told Her, sadly, that most of the people at the Climate March didn't know Her name. She wasn't surprised. She says that it all started going downhill when Her praise and worship team got shoved out by Daddy Gods and hordes who came to conquer. But She assures me She will have the last laugh. I don't doubt it for an instant.

This is a busy week here at "The Gods Are Bored." My daughter The Spare just signed a lease on a house in Philadelphia. She will be moving away from home, probably Friday. Oh my goodness! What will I write about, if not The Spare? I feel like Gaia must have felt when the last pterodactyl bit the dust. So ... a few nights this week I will be helping Spare prepare her new living space for habitation. To put it another way, there were two dudes living there, and the place is a shambles.

I also have to take my computer to my Yoda. He's a great Guy.

And then, on Friday, it's the May Day Fairie Festival at Spoutwood Farm! Spare and I will be there for the weekend, celebrating the Ladies and Gentlemen of Sidhe. If you're in the vicinity, please join us!

I end this lengthy epistle on a light note ...

I made a sign for the climate march. It said, "This Druid Loves Gaia."

A lady came up to me and said, "Oh! Can I take a photo of your sign? My dog is named Gaia."

"Sure," I said, holding it up. "I have a dog too. His name is Jehovah."

Every dog has his day, right?