Search This Blog

Sunday, April 25, 2010

And The Cherubim Rejoiced

 The Seraphim were leading their asses to the river to drink, tossing flower petals before them to signify victory; and bread crumbs behind them, so they could find their way back. But Lo, the brightly shining Angels didn't realize that come October, their asses would be handed to them by the Yankees.

Pat Robertson Vs. The Loas

  It was a fine Sunday afternoon for preaching. Pat had a lovely little sermon prepared, about fire, and damnation, and the evil of the liberal elite. And maybe, he thought, he'd throw a little more about those devil worshippers in Haiti, causing their earthquakes. Obviously, those backward primatives didn't know they had sold their souls, oh so long ago.
  As Pat's limousine drove him to the Megachurch, he found that he did not recognize the route they were taking. And then, in a rural crossroads he had never seen before, the driver stopped. Pat began to snarl indignantly at the driver, he was going to be late ! But the driver turned back towards him, and it was no man he knew. Something about the man tickled at the back of his consciousness, and he felt strange... like that time in college when...
  The driver smiled through his rangy beard, his face so black he seemed to radiate night, except for that smile. It beamed moonlight and joy, and maybe some mischief too. "Hello, Pat. I am Papa Legba." "Who ? What the...! I demand-" Pat began, but Papa Legba cut him off gently, "I am sent by the Orishas to ask if you will renounce your stupidity, and make ammends to those you have offended by naming them Devil worshippers."
   "What, the Haitians ? No way, that's Fact !"
  "Pat, Pat, please, the Loas are a tad miffed with you. Perhaps you could reconsider."
 "No, you damned Devil ! I will not ! You are Hellspawn !"
    "No, Pat, no I am not. I am a way people use to commune with the same God you pretend to. And now you have one last chance, before I leave you alone with the Loas..."

  Pat Never made it to Church that day... But if you listen carefully, as you pass through a crossroads, you might still hear him saying nasty things about people he really doesn't know, and blaming them in all matters of things for which no one is culpable.

  Non Requiem aeternam dona eis (Pat Robertson), Domine

Monday, April 5, 2010

The Hero's Journey

 Once upon some time, there lived a young boy, deprived of at least one parent, who lived a randomly selected disadvantaged life. He was very talented and attractive, and never felt like he fit in with those  around him. One day, a tragedy befalls him, perhaps depriving him of his other parent, or favorite aunt. Or his village is sacked, or the Rebellion is seriously threatened. And at this time, he is visited by an old wise male mystic sorcerer, who either informs him of his world changing destiny, or behaves very mysteriously, but insistently leads the young man to understand his world changing destiny.
 The old wise male mystic sorcerer and the young hero-to-be set out on an astonishing adventure during which time the young man discovers he is the most powerful magical demigodlike prince of really powerful stuff, inherited from his equally powerful father or mother. He kills a bewildering array of things that would kill anyone else, saves all of his friends repeatedly, finds the ring, rescues the princess, overcomes nearly impossible adversity, wins over a cold hearted in-law, topples the greedy religious institution, and destroys the ring.
  In the end, the Hero winds up not being a whiny little punk like he appears in the first couple of episodes, and he gets the girl, receives a medal, or the keys to the kingdom, and everyone chanting his name in an uplifting epic courtyard scene. 

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Baba Yaga's Hut

 Petrush wandered through the forest, seeking mushrooms to liven his mother's stew. He had gone out early, but was distracted at a pond by all of the tadpoles, and the birds that swooped down to gobble them up. So long did he tarry, in fact, that he found the light dimming, and realized it was time to go home. He became disoriented in the dimness and walked past what he was sure was the same tree three times. He began to despair of ever getting home, and his rumbling stomach told him it was passing dinner time. Little Petrushka, he thought to himself, you have done it now. But at least he had some mushrooms to eat, and so selected the biggest one for a snack.
 After another half hour of wandering, he began to feel strange, like maybe it wasn't getting darker, and maybe there were strange musical sounds in his ears. And as he pondered these odd things, he came upon a hut, and on the front stoop sat an old, gnarled woman, her matted mass of gray dredlocks looking for all the world like a worn out pile of snakes. She saw him come out of the woods and said "You God damned kids Stay Off My Lawn ! Can't an old lady get some peace and quiet ?!?" But when she saw how young and lost and huge pupiled Petrush was, she softened a bit, putting down her shotgun, and coming to greet him. "Oh, I'm sorry, boy, but did you eat one of those big mushrooms that you're carrying there ?" He nodded, watching her face elongate and twist into itself and look very clay-like. He giggled. "Ooh, they sure look good. Give one to Baba, and I'll take you home." Petrush could barely form the word 'here.' but gave her a mushroom. Baba did a little jig, holding it up like a prized jewel, and said "thanks boy. now let's get you..." But Petrush only heard "luudluudluudluuuuuuudluuuuuuuu..." and he began to laugh, and as his laughter left streaks in the air he laughed harder, and the harder he laughed the stronger the imprints they left on the world, which was endlessly fascinating. He watched as Baba moved and trails swirled in her wake, and the music of the spheres babbled insistently in the back of his mind.
  So when her house stood up on chicken legs, and she invited him aboard, he wasn't the least bit fazed. In fact, it seemed somehow more real than some of the other things that were happening. The Hut walked through the wood to the river, which it couldn't cross, so they flew the rest of the way back in Baba's giant mortar, which she seemed to row with the giant matching pestle. And while this was all great fun, Petrush was totally fixated on the rippling auras surrounding his hands, which he kept shaking as if to shed water from them to keep the lights flashing.
  When they reached little Petrushka's house, Baba realized he was tripping way too hard to return to his Mother; so she took him back to the hut until he came down a bit.
  So they watched 'Yellow Submarine' and 'The Waking Life' and 'Adventures of Mark Twain in Claymation', while making beaded jewelry and smoking Baba's pipe until the sun came up.
 Petrush exclaimed "I am going to be so grounded for this", but Baba said, "Don't worry little dude, I will return you in my mortar and pestle, and they will think I kidnapped you. It's what happens with all the kids who come to visit me."

Sunday, January 3, 2010

cernunnos and ceridwen

 Ceridwen was at home in the Great Wood, swathed in the ethereal fog which concealed her divine realm from the world of men. It was autumn, and the leaves had mostly fallen from the trees, and so she sought out her consort Cernunnos to help with the cleanup. "Cern, you old layabout, get your Stag-headed self in here and help me sweep these woods !" But call out as she might, Cernunnos did not reply. She looked in the family room, and the couch stood empty, the television cold and dark. She looked in the garage, and his car was there, but he was not there tinkering with the parts (which he didn't really understand anyway). She looked out back at the kennel where the hounds of the Wild Hunt lay snoring peacefully, and down by the stream where he liked to lay and smoke his pipe. But she could find him nowhere.

 She went home and called Rhiannon, to see if he had stopped by. After seven rings, when she was just about to hang up, Rhiannon answered at last. "Ceridwen," she began, sounding deeply forlorn, "I'm so sorry. I... He... He just stepped out from the woods, into the road, as I came around the corner, and it was so dark, I didn't see him until... And he just stood there, like a deer in the headlights... I'm so sorry..."

Friday, November 27, 2009

Freya gets some Bling

 Freya, Goddess of beauty, love, and childbirth, was in the market for some serious bling. There was one piece of jewelry she wanted; the necklace Brisings. Brisings was a 'circlet of fluid gold' that would enhance even the most beautiful of goddesses. The only problem with acquiring it was the price. She could afford any gold or silver, but for this special piece, she was required to sleep with each of the four dwarven smiths who created it. Alfrigg, Berling, Dvalin, and Grerr were master goldsmiths of unparalleled skill, and it had been such a long lonely time in their mountain fastness, that no payment of gold was valuable enough. And so, Freya did it. And did it... And did it, and did it again... But she got her necklace. Fortunately the battery in Berling's video camera was dead, so she was spared the shame of the internet...

Monday, November 16, 2009

Before the Black Rite

 Set slew Osiris, and cut his body into thirteen pieces, which he scattered around Egypt, making them very difficult indeed for Isis to find, if she were to rebuild him. After ages of searching, she had finally collected twelve of the pieces; but the thirteenth, the most important, and most delicate, was still at large (no pun intended). What Isis discovered, was how hard it was to ask anyone if they had seen it. "Umm, it's about this big, it's, umm.. Well it's kind of, uhh... I mean, if you've seen one just out on it's own you'd know it, right ?.. Well, if you happen to find a lone, err, Thingy, call me at this number, ok ?" And thus did it take quite some time before Osiris was whole enough for the magical Rite which would see him reborn as Horus the Avenger...

How death came to the world

Unkulunkulu could not decide if men should live forever or die. So he decided to have a race, between Chameleon, and Lizard. (Ignore the fact that Chameleon is a Lizard, ok ?) Unfortunately for us, he chose the slowpoke Chameleon to stand for immortality, and Lizard for death. And if that weren't skewed against us enough, Chameleon found a bush with fermenting berries along the race route, and stopped to have himself a little nip...  So Sorry Humanity, looks like you got the shaft

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Gilgamesh and Enkidu

 Needed Sacred Cedar to build a new door for the Gods.  So they went to the Sacred Lumber Yard, but at the lumber counter was the demon-ogre Humbaba. He told them,"Cedar is all in our other location.". So they asked instead for Sacred Hemlock. "All out. Sorry." responded Humbaba. "Ok, how about Sacred Mahogany ?" asked Gilgamesh. "Nope. shipment's due thursday." Enkidu tried asking for Sacred Oak. Humbaba merely shook his head. Brightening, the Ogre-Demon looked up at them and suggested "We do have some partially Sacred Fiberglass pre-made doors. Perhaps the Gods will accept one ?" "Okay, let's see what you've got." said Gilgamesh. Humbaba checked the computer. "Oh sorry, just sold the last one."
 At this, Gilgamesh flew into a rage, and began an epic battle with Humbaba which would be recorded in Epic Poem format, and would be remembered throughout the ages, although with somewhat altered details...

Hades was out walking Cerberus

 And you can imagine, a three headed dog stops to sniff even more frequently than your average domestic hound. After about half an hour, Cerberus was still showing no signs of doing his business, and Hades was getting a little peeved. He tried for a few more minutes, and finally turned back towards home. When he arrived, he tied the Dog outside the Underworld and left him out all night; he just had the whole place recarpeted, and he wasn't chancing a mess...

Thursday, November 12, 2009

A guy who lays awake at night pondering the existence of Dog

walks into a bar with a dwarf psychic on the lam.

(yes it's the old 'insomniac agnostic dyslexic' out with the 'small medium at large')

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Two from Yoda

Try Not. Do or Do Not. There is no Try.

When 900 years you reach, look as good, you will not.

Nietzsche Spracht

I still live, I still think: I still have to live, for I still have to think. But apparently I don't have to make any sense. (okay he only said most of that)