The Only Thing Worse Is Death

 If I could inflict a punishment on Donald Trump, I would make him a public school teacher. Yes, that's exactly what I would do.

Tired of Rejection Slips, I Fight Back

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," coming to you more than 250 times a year for 15 years and counting! I'm Anne Johnson, and I have been some places and done some things. Lots and lots and LOTS of things.

Every morning I read the New York Times front to back. A few months ago I saw an article about the Smithsonian Institution soliciting "pandemic diaries." It was a gushy article about how the S.I. wants the experiences of ordinary Americans.

"Well," thought I. "I have been writing about the quarantine AND I have written about everything else going on since 2005 on 'The Gods Are Bored.'"

The Times article did not include a helpful link to where one could apply to be in the Smithsonian. So I researched and researched. Finally I found an email address that I thought would do the trick. I introduced myself, described "The Gods Are Bored," and said it includes entries about the quarantine.

I got an automatic reply that indicated my email had found its mark. So I waited.

Yesterday I heard back from a Dr. Lord, Smithsonian Institution. After careful review, my contribution was deemed unworthy of the august museum.

At my age I thought I'd seen my last rejection. But flick the ol' Smithsonian right on top of the pile ... if you can find the top. I'll lend you a ladder.

Have you ever been treated the same way for so long that you respond to the current case as if all the other cases could be avenged in that one brief moment?

Long story short, I replied to Dr. Lord. To whit:

"Hi Dr. Lord, thank you for getting back to me. I know that every human being alive thinks they have created something worthy of historic preservation. I have done it. Since 2005 I have written a blog called "The Gods Are Bored." It includes political satire, personal experiences (I live near Philadelphia, I protest frequently), and commentary on current events. I'm not unwashed and untutored. I graduated from Johns Hopkins University, Phi Beta Kappa. I know how to turn a phrase and report on historical events. Okay, I'm not Samuel Pepys, but he wasn't Samuel Pepys when he started out. If you have a list of blogs that document life in the United States of America, my blog ought to be there."

Tsk tsk, I didn't hide my light under a bushel, did I? Oh well, like I said, it was a comeback that reflects all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, from that first short story I sent with an SASE (self-addressed, stamped envelope) to a small literary magazine in 1980, to the unannounced classroom observation by the vice principal at my school last spring. One can only be dismissed with a flick of the wrist so many times.

Dr. Lord suggests I contact my local historical society to see if they would be interested in my oeuvre. That would be Snobville/Haterfield. What do you think? Yeah. Me too.

I'll bet they didn't keep my sign from the Women's March either. Hmph. My tax dollars at work.

The Many Uses for Kidnapped Children

TRIGGER WARNING: This post is not funny. It contains ruminations on child abuse.


A few years ago I took a tour of a place called the Coriell Institute. At Corielle, scientists are trying to engineer stem cells to grow new organs. They are also working on reversing the aging process.

This research is funded by billionaire philanthropists. It's a tax write-off.

You don't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out why super rich people would want to fund this kind of research. They live the high life, and they love it, and they want to live forever. They're funding Coriell hoping that it will be able to reverse their aging and provide them with new organs.

Trouble is, scientific research takes time, and some of these billionaires are getting up in age. What if they need a heart, and Coriell hasn't perfected their heart cells yet?

Let's rewind a bit.

When I was in college, I had a professor who had fled Cuba in the 1950s. He wrote about Cuban prisoners, and how their organs were "harvested" when people in the ruling regime needed them. There's also the well-documented case of "the disappeared" in Argentina. Young people who vanished without a trace, leaving behind frightened and grieving parents.

There are more than 2300 children floating around our country right now. It's clear that some of them are in for-profit care centers and ultra-Christian foster homes. But are they all accounted for? Will we ever know for sure that these children have returned to the arms of their mothers? Frankly, I wouldn't believe it if I witnessed it with my own eyes.

America, welcome to the Heart of Darkness.

My family says I'm crazy. History says I'm not.

Defenseless children are trafficked.
Defenseless children are enslaved.
Defenseless children are valued for their healthy organs.
Defenseless children can be used as research subjects.
Defenseless children are easily "disappeared."

When Donald Trump was elected, with a Republican majority in both houses and a Supreme Court seat left deliberately vacant, I braced for the worst. But I never imagined this worst.

Somewhere, a billionaire hedge fund manager needs a new heart. Somewhere, a little refugee kid is having his blood typed.

Reader, I am sorry. This was once a humor blog. But that was before everything I joked about the most actually came true in the apparent world.

To the wealthy donors of Coriell Institute: The Reaper will come for you. You can only delay Him. And I hope you do ... long enough that you will be able to look up into the sky and see the asteroid that will lay waste to you.

The wrath of the Gods onto billionaires.
The wrath of the Gods onto "prayer warriors."
They are creating a Hell and calling it holy.