Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Right on time for the holiday break, my computer has sprung a leak and won't hold content. So this post is being done on the fly at school, and I don't know when I'll be able to post again. Maybe from the public library/church in my borough.
Update on the First Amendment: The menorah that I thought had been taken down out of a sense of reason was, in fact, stolen in the deep recesses of the night. Police are baffled. Durrrrhhhh. A five-foot aluminum menorah? Have they checked the prices being paid for scrap metal lately?
Apparently, as predicted, many citizens of Snobville (particularly at the high school) are weighing in against the religious displays on public property. The Snobville Weekly Tattler reports that the displays were done after permits were issued to Hay-bad (not the proper spelling, this is the Jewish group, they are very conservative) and a society called Citizens for Keeping Christ in Christmas. According to our lovely mayor, such permits are legal because they can be issued to any religious group.
Promptly and efficiently, I applied for a permit on behalf of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. (I can't copy the text of the email here. School computers have so much security on them they could double for CIA.) I described the beautiful holiday display the Church would do, using suitable pasta products, a Santa hat, and a sign that reads "Seasoning Is the Reason for the Season." I linked to the FSM home page and warned that failure to issue this nonprofit organization a permit would be deemed religious discrimination.
Readers, you know I'll do it. Given the sentiment at the high school, I'll have plenty of creative help.
Spare was the one who coined the phrase "Putting the Hollandaise in the Holidays." I think that is so beautiful! Won't that be inspirational on a waterproof sign?
To close -- for how long I don't know -- I would just like to say that I don't want to put up a Druid symbol on public land. I don't want any symbols on public land. Xmas trees are universal; to me, they don't really have a religious affiliation anymore. Even my school has one in the lobby.
Religious displays belong on religious property. Which is why you see so few for Druids and Wiccans. Where would we leave stuff? We worship in the woods.
A blessed Yule to all, especially the Flying Spaghetti Monster, a new God among us! Next winter, get ready for Spaghetti!
Showing posts with label First Amendment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label First Amendment. Show all posts
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," waging a bittersweet war for the U.S. Constitution during this holiday season. Gains have been made.
The gain is that the Jewish group who erected the large menorah on public property has taken it down.
I'm sorry they had to do it, but they had to do it. My guess is that they did it with a clear understanding of the importance of keeping church and state separate.
Is there any living group of people in the Western World who has suffered more than the Jews in matters pertaining to religion? They are the only people who can connect, in living memory, to a time when their people were systematically and brutally exterminated simply because of their religion. If you can remember a time when you or your family, or all of your family and friends and distant cousins, were rounded up and killed, you might be more amenable to our national Constitution's protections and strictures.
It only took three copies of the U.S. Constitution, with the Establishment Clause highlighted in green marker and the tract folded to that page, to get the Chabad synagogue to reconsider the placement of its electric menorah.
The manger scene is still under the Christmas tree on borough property, but this morning when I dropped off the fourth copy of the Constitution, I noticed that the display was not lit up by the spotlight that had been lit for the past week. At least they've pulled the plug on my taxes illuminating baby Jesus.
Knowing Snobville as I do (it's chock-a-block with lawyers, for one thing), I'll bet the nativity scene gets pulled right after December 25. Then it will only be a matter of going to a city council meeting and respectfully reminding the burghers that they must abide by the rules of 1787, like them or not, during future holidays.
Solstice ritual tomorrow. Gosh -- public property! The local grove of oaks along the pond! Well, I just won't leave any trace behind of the work that is done.
The gain is that the Jewish group who erected the large menorah on public property has taken it down.
I'm sorry they had to do it, but they had to do it. My guess is that they did it with a clear understanding of the importance of keeping church and state separate.
Is there any living group of people in the Western World who has suffered more than the Jews in matters pertaining to religion? They are the only people who can connect, in living memory, to a time when their people were systematically and brutally exterminated simply because of their religion. If you can remember a time when you or your family, or all of your family and friends and distant cousins, were rounded up and killed, you might be more amenable to our national Constitution's protections and strictures.
It only took three copies of the U.S. Constitution, with the Establishment Clause highlighted in green marker and the tract folded to that page, to get the Chabad synagogue to reconsider the placement of its electric menorah.
The manger scene is still under the Christmas tree on borough property, but this morning when I dropped off the fourth copy of the Constitution, I noticed that the display was not lit up by the spotlight that had been lit for the past week. At least they've pulled the plug on my taxes illuminating baby Jesus.
Knowing Snobville as I do (it's chock-a-block with lawyers, for one thing), I'll bet the nativity scene gets pulled right after December 25. Then it will only be a matter of going to a city council meeting and respectfully reminding the burghers that they must abide by the rules of 1787, like them or not, during future holidays.
Solstice ritual tomorrow. Gosh -- public property! The local grove of oaks along the pond! Well, I just won't leave any trace behind of the work that is done.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," waging the War on Christmas since this afternoon at 3:30!
Yes, yes, I am now a Constitutional Navy Seal, and the word is out. Trust me, the word is out.
Yesterday I wrote about a nativity scene that is displayed on public property in my borough, close to the street. There's also a menorah about 50 feet away. I guess the big ol' committee of three (mayor, two councilmen) decided that if they included the menorah, there couldn't possibly be an outcry about a religious display on public property.
Well, my lieblings, I'm a taxpayer here in Snobville, and they don't call it Snobville for nothing. Next year my property taxes will crest $12,000 (yes THOUSAND) a year. And I live in a modest house! For real! This is New Jersey. The people who live in Camden's Tent City have to pay high-roller taxes. I can't imagine what the real snobs in Snobville pay. But I guess it doesn't matter to them. Once you're rich, you're really rich, and you can afford any unreasonable tally.
I'm not that rich. I may have to move.
In the meantime ...
It was a cold, crisp afternoon, so I decided to walk up to the grocery store. I shoved a few copies of the United States Constitution into my pocket and set out on my walk.
On my way I passed a Roman Catholic church and school. In front of the school was a very modest nativity scene.
Two blocks later, I arrived at the public library grounds.
There was a woman on her knees, photographing the nativity scene. This seemed weird to me, because it's not a special, expensive nativity scene like the one up on Main Street in front of the Baptist church. It's just a mid-sized nativity scene in 1970's era plastic.
When she noticed me, she turned around and said, "Oh hi, isn't this great? They didn't used to have this in Snobville. I'm a Catholic, and I think this is great!"
To which I replied: "I'm a Pagan, and I don't think it's great at all."
I opened my copy of the Constitution, read the Establishment Clause out loud, folded the little tract so it would fall open to said Amendment, and placed it in the "stable." I said to the astonished female. "I don't see a Pentagram on this property."
She said, "But it's Christmas."
I said, "I pay taxes in this borough, and this is unconstitutional."
Then I walked up to the menorah and placed another tract, similarly folded, at the base of the lights.
Readers, you have to trust me. I have nothing. NOTHING against the religions in question. They just don't belong on property that is paid for by my big, fat Pagan tax bill!
Here's how the war starts.
I walked on to the grocery store, made my purchases, and walked back past the library. No surprise at all, the copies of the Constitution had been removed from both the menorah and the nativity scene. But the funny thing was, the woman was still there, illegally parked, texting away in her car!
All hands on Deck the halls! I can just imagine the content of those texts. War on Christmas! Evil Pagans on the march! Gotta protect the Jesus shrine!
They have met their match.
First of all, I have about 100 copies of the U.S. Constitution in a bag in my room. They were free. Every day I leave for work at 6:30 in the morning. It will be a simple matter to add another 8 minutes to my commute to drop off a Bill of Rights for Jesus and Yahweh before Father Sol rises in the east. Figuring I get off work at 3:30, I can drop off another set around 4:00 p.m. And on nights when the daughters and I are out looking for Crazy Christmas Houses, I can make a third foray.
I'll leave this next part up to your discretion, readers, so please reply.
It would be a very simple matter for me to create a Flying Spaghetti Monster out of pasta and some cocktail toothpicks The Spare bought for her dinner soiree that she held last night. What do you think? Should I place Our Noodly Master on the stable roof on December 24? Your call.
My walk home brought me back past the nativity scene in front of the RC Church. NO FREAKIN PROBLEM, LIEBLINGS. That's where it belongs! My taxes don't support that church!
Tomorrow morning I will send a strongly worded letter to our mayor and city council regarding the religious displays on public property. I will NOT request the addition of a Pentagram. It doesn't belong there any more than the creche. I will say that there are taxpayers in Snobville who object to religious displays on public property, please do not include these displays in the future.
You know what? I'm on solid ground with this here in Snobville. I'm sure there are many taxpayers who feel the same way, and many of them are monotheists.
Ramen!
Yes, yes, I am now a Constitutional Navy Seal, and the word is out. Trust me, the word is out.
Yesterday I wrote about a nativity scene that is displayed on public property in my borough, close to the street. There's also a menorah about 50 feet away. I guess the big ol' committee of three (mayor, two councilmen) decided that if they included the menorah, there couldn't possibly be an outcry about a religious display on public property.
Well, my lieblings, I'm a taxpayer here in Snobville, and they don't call it Snobville for nothing. Next year my property taxes will crest $12,000 (yes THOUSAND) a year. And I live in a modest house! For real! This is New Jersey. The people who live in Camden's Tent City have to pay high-roller taxes. I can't imagine what the real snobs in Snobville pay. But I guess it doesn't matter to them. Once you're rich, you're really rich, and you can afford any unreasonable tally.
I'm not that rich. I may have to move.
In the meantime ...
It was a cold, crisp afternoon, so I decided to walk up to the grocery store. I shoved a few copies of the United States Constitution into my pocket and set out on my walk.
On my way I passed a Roman Catholic church and school. In front of the school was a very modest nativity scene.
Two blocks later, I arrived at the public library grounds.
There was a woman on her knees, photographing the nativity scene. This seemed weird to me, because it's not a special, expensive nativity scene like the one up on Main Street in front of the Baptist church. It's just a mid-sized nativity scene in 1970's era plastic.
When she noticed me, she turned around and said, "Oh hi, isn't this great? They didn't used to have this in Snobville. I'm a Catholic, and I think this is great!"
To which I replied: "I'm a Pagan, and I don't think it's great at all."
I opened my copy of the Constitution, read the Establishment Clause out loud, folded the little tract so it would fall open to said Amendment, and placed it in the "stable." I said to the astonished female. "I don't see a Pentagram on this property."
She said, "But it's Christmas."
I said, "I pay taxes in this borough, and this is unconstitutional."
Then I walked up to the menorah and placed another tract, similarly folded, at the base of the lights.
Readers, you have to trust me. I have nothing. NOTHING against the religions in question. They just don't belong on property that is paid for by my big, fat Pagan tax bill!
Here's how the war starts.
I walked on to the grocery store, made my purchases, and walked back past the library. No surprise at all, the copies of the Constitution had been removed from both the menorah and the nativity scene. But the funny thing was, the woman was still there, illegally parked, texting away in her car!
All hands on Deck the halls! I can just imagine the content of those texts. War on Christmas! Evil Pagans on the march! Gotta protect the Jesus shrine!
They have met their match.
First of all, I have about 100 copies of the U.S. Constitution in a bag in my room. They were free. Every day I leave for work at 6:30 in the morning. It will be a simple matter to add another 8 minutes to my commute to drop off a Bill of Rights for Jesus and Yahweh before Father Sol rises in the east. Figuring I get off work at 3:30, I can drop off another set around 4:00 p.m. And on nights when the daughters and I are out looking for Crazy Christmas Houses, I can make a third foray.
I'll leave this next part up to your discretion, readers, so please reply.
It would be a very simple matter for me to create a Flying Spaghetti Monster out of pasta and some cocktail toothpicks The Spare bought for her dinner soiree that she held last night. What do you think? Should I place Our Noodly Master on the stable roof on December 24? Your call.
My walk home brought me back past the nativity scene in front of the RC Church. NO FREAKIN PROBLEM, LIEBLINGS. That's where it belongs! My taxes don't support that church!
Tomorrow morning I will send a strongly worded letter to our mayor and city council regarding the religious displays on public property. I will NOT request the addition of a Pentagram. It doesn't belong there any more than the creche. I will say that there are taxpayers in Snobville who object to religious displays on public property, please do not include these displays in the future.
You know what? I'm on solid ground with this here in Snobville. I'm sure there are many taxpayers who feel the same way, and many of them are monotheists.
Ramen!
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," old friends and new! If you're just happening on this little love fest, please be forewarned: 'Tis not necessarily the season to be jolly around here. This is New Jersey. It gets dark at 4:30, and people's hands rest perpetually on the horns of their cars, pressing violently as needed. Fa la la HONK HONK! Humbug.
We had some road work done in Snobville this summer, and they lopped a little bit of land off the public library property. Our borough Xmas tree is now closer to the street.
Today, when I drove past, I noticed that someone had erected a nativity scene under the tree. Not far away there was a menorah, wishing everyone a Happy Hanukkah.
It was the same last year, but the displays were not so close to the street. And somehow it didn't bother me, because, after all, the tree itself is Pagan.
This year it bothers me.
Snobville has a Jewish population but no synagogue. Snobville has a charming Baptist church on Main Street with a huge nativity scene. Do we absolutely, positively need religious symbols on public property? No one asked the Garden State Pagan Alliance for a holiday sign. I would make one, but I suck at art.
Time for Plan B.
I've got 500 little pocket-sized copies of the U.S. Constitution. Tomorrow a dozen of them are going into the nativity scene, all propped open at the First Amendment. Over the protests of the Spare, one will also be posted at the base of the menorah.
I have no objection whatsoever to religious-themed displays on religious or private properties. But my taxes pay for the library, and I don't see a Pentagram on the grounds.
There have been highly-publicized fights about this in other towns of every size. I don't prefer to exercise my snit in a big public forum. It's so much easier to give Baby Jesus a little light reading to brighten his stay in the manger.
If you need some copies of the Constitution for your own community, contact me, email me your address, and I'll get some off to you. I'd have given you more notice, but the nativity scene just went up in Snobville -- so I can't promise delivery by December 25.
But I will deliver.
We had some road work done in Snobville this summer, and they lopped a little bit of land off the public library property. Our borough Xmas tree is now closer to the street.
Today, when I drove past, I noticed that someone had erected a nativity scene under the tree. Not far away there was a menorah, wishing everyone a Happy Hanukkah.
It was the same last year, but the displays were not so close to the street. And somehow it didn't bother me, because, after all, the tree itself is Pagan.
This year it bothers me.
Snobville has a Jewish population but no synagogue. Snobville has a charming Baptist church on Main Street with a huge nativity scene. Do we absolutely, positively need religious symbols on public property? No one asked the Garden State Pagan Alliance for a holiday sign. I would make one, but I suck at art.
Time for Plan B.
I've got 500 little pocket-sized copies of the U.S. Constitution. Tomorrow a dozen of them are going into the nativity scene, all propped open at the First Amendment. Over the protests of the Spare, one will also be posted at the base of the menorah.
I have no objection whatsoever to religious-themed displays on religious or private properties. But my taxes pay for the library, and I don't see a Pentagram on the grounds.
There have been highly-publicized fights about this in other towns of every size. I don't prefer to exercise my snit in a big public forum. It's so much easier to give Baby Jesus a little light reading to brighten his stay in the manger.
If you need some copies of the Constitution for your own community, contact me, email me your address, and I'll get some off to you. I'd have given you more notice, but the nativity scene just went up in Snobville -- so I can't promise delivery by December 25.
But I will deliver.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," a happy home-sweet-home for anyone who believes in any deity who isn't attracting followers who are either stupid, dangerous, or numerous! Welcome, likewise, to those of you who don't believe in deities at all. Hey, we are in this together. Your vote keeps the ship afloat.
Below I've posted possibly the most despicable, anti-American political ad I've seen since the days of Willie Horton. Our moron du jour, Rick Perry, has openly allied himself with the most radical of Christian sects. But this just takes the cake.
Here's a guy who doesn't know how many people sit on the Supreme Court, let alone their names. News flash: Immigrants wishing to gain citizenship know the answers to both of those questions. Basically there's a man running for president who knows less than the refugee from Nigeria who's been here since 2009!
(*Anne snaps knuckles, returns to her rant*)
I've watched at least 40 speeches by Barack Obama, and in almost every one of them (including his Inaugural Address), he has ended with "God Bless America." So how exactly is he waging a war against Christianity? Has he sent his daughters to burn down the National Cathedral? What am I missing? Maybe he doesn't go to church every Sunday. Maybe he doesn't go at all. Shame on him! Richard Nixon went to church all the time!
You know what I would really love to see? Right now, while they can openly serve in the military, I would like for every gay Navy Seal to go on YouTube and post his or her credentials ... then flex his or her muscles ... then shoot a crash test dummy through the "heart" from 500 yards away. What is the big deal about sexual orientation in the military? Oh please. It's not like people are lining up to head off to Afghanistan and get shot. We should be grateful for anyone who is willing to serve in this era of nebulous enemies.
And you can tell this is a holiday ad, because here it comes again. The war on Christmas! Prayer in the school! Okay, someone wave the white flag! Armistice Day for the war on Christmas, already. We'll just put Christmas into the curriculum and discuss its origins. We could do the same for Easter. I'm so freakin willing to do this! I think I'll submit a petition to my principal!
Ads like this one call upon us to have faith.
We must have faith that the majority of Americans who vote are rational, reasonable people. We must have faith that there are Christians aplenty out there who would be uncomfortable with this alliance between church and state. We must have faith. Faith that moves mountains.
Vote.
(*End of rant*)
Here's a nice, light ending. This picture is circulating on Facebook, and it's just such a hoot! Rick's trainers not only dressed him up in a jacket in what is clearly the middle of the summer (note the greenery in the background), but they chose from the Warner Brothers "Brokeback Mountain" wardrobe. This would be an easy mistake to make, but Rick would have been way safer wearing a choir robe from the Crystal Cathedral.
Below I've posted possibly the most despicable, anti-American political ad I've seen since the days of Willie Horton. Our moron du jour, Rick Perry, has openly allied himself with the most radical of Christian sects. But this just takes the cake.
Here's a guy who doesn't know how many people sit on the Supreme Court, let alone their names. News flash: Immigrants wishing to gain citizenship know the answers to both of those questions. Basically there's a man running for president who knows less than the refugee from Nigeria who's been here since 2009!
(*Anne snaps knuckles, returns to her rant*)
I've watched at least 40 speeches by Barack Obama, and in almost every one of them (including his Inaugural Address), he has ended with "God Bless America." So how exactly is he waging a war against Christianity? Has he sent his daughters to burn down the National Cathedral? What am I missing? Maybe he doesn't go to church every Sunday. Maybe he doesn't go at all. Shame on him! Richard Nixon went to church all the time!
You know what I would really love to see? Right now, while they can openly serve in the military, I would like for every gay Navy Seal to go on YouTube and post his or her credentials ... then flex his or her muscles ... then shoot a crash test dummy through the "heart" from 500 yards away. What is the big deal about sexual orientation in the military? Oh please. It's not like people are lining up to head off to Afghanistan and get shot. We should be grateful for anyone who is willing to serve in this era of nebulous enemies.
And you can tell this is a holiday ad, because here it comes again. The war on Christmas! Prayer in the school! Okay, someone wave the white flag! Armistice Day for the war on Christmas, already. We'll just put Christmas into the curriculum and discuss its origins. We could do the same for Easter. I'm so freakin willing to do this! I think I'll submit a petition to my principal!
Ads like this one call upon us to have faith.
We must have faith that the majority of Americans who vote are rational, reasonable people. We must have faith that there are Christians aplenty out there who would be uncomfortable with this alliance between church and state. We must have faith. Faith that moves mountains.
Vote.
(*End of rant*)
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Last night was a big night here in Snobville. It's "Spirit Week" (wow, just got the double meaning of that!), and the classes at Snobville High participated in their usual competitions, which encourage rivalry in the name of making money for charities and food banks.
My daughter The Spare is a Senior. She has always lived and breathed Spirit Week, but never more than this time -- her swan song as the driving force of the Spirit Week Committee, Class of 2012.
Spare's class chose "Lord of the Rings" as their hallway theme. And she buckled down to work. And they won.
Her contributions ran from the sublime to the ridiculous. In no particular order:
1. Both of my formal Druid Ritual robes. With my warm blessings.
2. A beautiful hand-crafted leather mask I just bought, giving to my sister for the holidays.
3. Costumes made of sheets and tablecloths from the thrift store.
4. A large piece of Astroturf from Lakewood High, Lakewood, Ohio ... scavenged from our property on Polish Mountain.
5. The contents of my china closet, more or less. I hope she didn't take the champagne glasses.
6. Each and every piece of colonial "kit" wear we amassed over a decade of doing Revolutionary War encampments.
7. Faerie wear, all of it.
8. An old bottle we scavenged from Polish Mountain, as above.
9. Two enormous banners that she painted without any help.
10. A Treebeard costume that could go right onstage.
11. Our outdoor fire bowl AND firewood!
12. Kid-sized furniture that has followed me through life somehow, and
13. An enormous amount of sweat equity.
Spare may not rock when it comes to cleaning her room, but tell her to make a hallway look like Middle Earth, and she will deliver! I was extremely proud of her!
On to the sermon:
November 23 marks the end of the Dominionist assault on the Goddess Columbia and our First Amendment rights, at least in its formal stage. I'm not much at math, but I can't understand how they got so far ahead of me that they were able to spend Samhain in Washington, DC ("C" as in Columbia) and eleven days in Philly, while I'm only up to Missouri!
I don't know how you roll, but I'm seeing some synchronicity between DC40's ruthless prayer vigil and the Occupy Movement. It's almost as if people everywhere are feeling the negative vibe of theocracy and are stepping up to stop it, in the name of democracy. Occupy is about more than unemployment and unfair business tactics. It's about bringing our nation into balance through the right to peaceably assemble, which (by cracky!) is also in the text of the First Amendment!
I'm sure to have lots to say about Occupy in the months to come, but this sermon contains an effort to diffuse dark magick.
I found this lovely and effective spell on Facebook. The more of us doing it, the better. The best times for it will be from midnight Wednesday to sundown on Thursday. This is close enough to the Full Moon to effect a new beginning, but far enough from a Mercury Retrograde to enact any unforseen consequences.
This is a send-back spell, meant to contain no more malice than you would expend upon a pair of shoes you ordered online and need to return because they don't fit. The merchant usually makes these returns very easy, so that you feel no bad humor. Please enter into this spell with that mindset: Something has come to you and your state. That something doesn't fit. Return to Sender, postage paid.
You can say this spell or write it on paper that you consign to air, fire, earth, or water. Pay heed to your sense of calm. You are diffusing ardor, and calmness is the best way to do that.
Spell as follows:
By the Power of (Insert favorite matron/patron/nature deity here) all negative prayers and curses issued by the New Apostolic Reformation, including all so called prayer intercessors who took part in the DC40/51 Days of Reformation Intercession campaign between October 3rd, 2011 and November 22nd, 2011 shall be returned to their source and origin intact exactly as they were sent. By the Power of (insert favorite deity here) and the Powers of The Queen of Heaven, Columbia, Lady Liberty and Nemesis, so mote it be.
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
First Amendment, United States Constitution, 1791
My daughter The Spare is a Senior. She has always lived and breathed Spirit Week, but never more than this time -- her swan song as the driving force of the Spirit Week Committee, Class of 2012.
Spare's class chose "Lord of the Rings" as their hallway theme. And she buckled down to work. And they won.
Her contributions ran from the sublime to the ridiculous. In no particular order:
1. Both of my formal Druid Ritual robes. With my warm blessings.
2. A beautiful hand-crafted leather mask I just bought, giving to my sister for the holidays.
3. Costumes made of sheets and tablecloths from the thrift store.
4. A large piece of Astroturf from Lakewood High, Lakewood, Ohio ... scavenged from our property on Polish Mountain.
5. The contents of my china closet, more or less. I hope she didn't take the champagne glasses.
6. Each and every piece of colonial "kit" wear we amassed over a decade of doing Revolutionary War encampments.
7. Faerie wear, all of it.
8. An old bottle we scavenged from Polish Mountain, as above.
9. Two enormous banners that she painted without any help.
10. A Treebeard costume that could go right onstage.
11. Our outdoor fire bowl AND firewood!
12. Kid-sized furniture that has followed me through life somehow, and
13. An enormous amount of sweat equity.
Spare may not rock when it comes to cleaning her room, but tell her to make a hallway look like Middle Earth, and she will deliver! I was extremely proud of her!
On to the sermon:
November 23 marks the end of the Dominionist assault on the Goddess Columbia and our First Amendment rights, at least in its formal stage. I'm not much at math, but I can't understand how they got so far ahead of me that they were able to spend Samhain in Washington, DC ("C" as in Columbia) and eleven days in Philly, while I'm only up to Missouri!
I don't know how you roll, but I'm seeing some synchronicity between DC40's ruthless prayer vigil and the Occupy Movement. It's almost as if people everywhere are feeling the negative vibe of theocracy and are stepping up to stop it, in the name of democracy. Occupy is about more than unemployment and unfair business tactics. It's about bringing our nation into balance through the right to peaceably assemble, which (by cracky!) is also in the text of the First Amendment!
I'm sure to have lots to say about Occupy in the months to come, but this sermon contains an effort to diffuse dark magick.
I found this lovely and effective spell on Facebook. The more of us doing it, the better. The best times for it will be from midnight Wednesday to sundown on Thursday. This is close enough to the Full Moon to effect a new beginning, but far enough from a Mercury Retrograde to enact any unforseen consequences.
This is a send-back spell, meant to contain no more malice than you would expend upon a pair of shoes you ordered online and need to return because they don't fit. The merchant usually makes these returns very easy, so that you feel no bad humor. Please enter into this spell with that mindset: Something has come to you and your state. That something doesn't fit. Return to Sender, postage paid.
You can say this spell or write it on paper that you consign to air, fire, earth, or water. Pay heed to your sense of calm. You are diffusing ardor, and calmness is the best way to do that.
Spell as follows:
By the Power of (Insert favorite matron/patron/nature deity here) all negative prayers and curses issued by the New Apostolic Reformation, including all so called prayer intercessors who took part in the DC40/51 Days of Reformation Intercession campaign between October 3rd, 2011 and November 22nd, 2011 shall be returned to their source and origin intact exactly as they were sent. By the Power of (insert favorite deity here) and the Powers of The Queen of Heaven, Columbia, Lady Liberty and Nemesis, so mote it be.
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
First Amendment, United States Constitution, 1791
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," resuming in a less structured way our push-back against the ultra-fringe Dominionists who would like to insert God into our government. Thomas Jefferson would order these people deported back to the countries from which their ancestors fled (escaping religious persecution).
I lived in Michigan for four years, and while I was there I was treated extremely kindly on more than one occasion by Christian people. I found, as a white Detroiter, that I was occasionally in a situation where I got bullied for being white. One of those times was when I went to hear Archbishop Desmond Tutu speak at the Ford Arena. While waiting outside, I was told to leave by a group of men who thought I shouldn't be there. A lovely bunch of church ladies, dressed in their best hats, took me in and invited me to sit with them. I have never forgotten that. They even took the trouble to scold the guys who were trying to keep the white woman from hearing Desmond Tutu! And trust me, I still remember Tutu's speech. What an awesome man!
Now, I was going to begin and end with this happy story. But the peerless Jason Pitzl-Waters (see link in my blog, The Wild Hunt) has alerted us to "anti-bullying" legislation in Michigan that would exempt bullying of a religious or moral nature.
For the love of fruit flies! Those guys at Ford Arena would have had the right to bully me right out of seeing Desmond Tutu! They proudly told me that they had marched in Selma, and this was their moment. That certainly is moral grounds for me not to be there.
This is more serious than my own little story, though.
How easy would it be for a dedicated bully to find moral or religious grounds to whomp a kid?
Well, I dunno ... Let's ask Hitler.
I would submit that a good bit of bullying occurs over religious issues, or at least it already gives bullies a pulpit for their actions. Michigan, your law has a big hole in it that you had better patch. Pagan, Arabic, and Jewish Michiganders had better get on this one, or it will be their kids who get jumped, harassed, intimidated, and hazed.
New Jersey has one of the strictest anti-bullying laws around, and as a teacher it makes my job way harder. I have to be alert to every kind of bullying, not exempting trash talk to the kid who comes to school wearing a pentagram. Come on, Michigan. Get real. Go get your trowel and a good batch of cement, and plug that hole.
Here's a fun thing we did in Michigan that I have also never forgotten. When someone wanted to show you how to get to Saginaw from Detroit, he or she would hold up the palm of his or her hand and point from the wrist bone (Detroit) to the lower thumb (Saginaw). If you wanted to go to Traverse City, that's on the pinky.
Okay, got to run. Teacher meeting on bullying!
I lived in Michigan for four years, and while I was there I was treated extremely kindly on more than one occasion by Christian people. I found, as a white Detroiter, that I was occasionally in a situation where I got bullied for being white. One of those times was when I went to hear Archbishop Desmond Tutu speak at the Ford Arena. While waiting outside, I was told to leave by a group of men who thought I shouldn't be there. A lovely bunch of church ladies, dressed in their best hats, took me in and invited me to sit with them. I have never forgotten that. They even took the trouble to scold the guys who were trying to keep the white woman from hearing Desmond Tutu! And trust me, I still remember Tutu's speech. What an awesome man!
Now, I was going to begin and end with this happy story. But the peerless Jason Pitzl-Waters (see link in my blog, The Wild Hunt) has alerted us to "anti-bullying" legislation in Michigan that would exempt bullying of a religious or moral nature.
For the love of fruit flies! Those guys at Ford Arena would have had the right to bully me right out of seeing Desmond Tutu! They proudly told me that they had marched in Selma, and this was their moment. That certainly is moral grounds for me not to be there.
This is more serious than my own little story, though.
How easy would it be for a dedicated bully to find moral or religious grounds to whomp a kid?
Well, I dunno ... Let's ask Hitler.
I would submit that a good bit of bullying occurs over religious issues, or at least it already gives bullies a pulpit for their actions. Michigan, your law has a big hole in it that you had better patch. Pagan, Arabic, and Jewish Michiganders had better get on this one, or it will be their kids who get jumped, harassed, intimidated, and hazed.
New Jersey has one of the strictest anti-bullying laws around, and as a teacher it makes my job way harder. I have to be alert to every kind of bullying, not exempting trash talk to the kid who comes to school wearing a pentagram. Come on, Michigan. Get real. Go get your trowel and a good batch of cement, and plug that hole.
Okay, got to run. Teacher meeting on bullying!
Dispensing with the formal greeting today. Moving right on to worship of the Sacred Thunderbird.
First, a little navel-gazing.
I have worshiped vultures since I was a teenager. For many years (and even now) this religious devotion has run parallel to whatever other deities I praise and worship. However, having achieved the wisdom of a half century, I now choose to center my most important devotions around Vulture.
This puts me more within the Native American worldview than the European. There are numerous songs and dances, stories and Rituals, surrounding the Peace Eagle (aka Vulture) among Native American groups all across America. Especially in the Pacific Northwest, where the California condor was once widespread and majestic (wingspan of 10 feet -- think about it).
EXHIBIT A: GOD
In 1984 I went to the San Diego Wildlife Park, where a captive breeding program had begun for California condors. I wrote an article about the efforts for the Detroit Free Press. Since I had a press pass, the biologists let me go see the "Condorminium." It was a huge, netted area where they kept the condors they were trying to breed.
Needless to say, even a glimpse of these deities from afar, in a flight cage, had immense meaning for me. (We couldn't go close, because the biologists didn't want the condors to become used to people.) Mr. Johnson could hardly live with me for weeks thereafter. Rapture? Forget about Rapture! Give me a Raptor!
At its lowest point of population, the California condor dipped to just 27 individuals. They were rounded up and kept in San Diego. Some creatures might not like being in a flight cage, but the condors are pretty happy with their dependable supply of carcasses. They have been making whoopie for 25 years.
We can be cautiously optimistic about this deity. The Sacred Thunderbird of California now is represented by approximately 400 individuals, some of them in the wild. They have been released in the Grand Canyon, where there are no power lines or hunters. Efforts are underway, partly funded by the Yurok Indians, to release condors in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, where carcasses are abundant and there are traditions of condor Ritual worship.
Angels and faeries are purported to be able to fly. Vultures can do it visibly and gracefully. No skeptical atheist can scoff at the flight of Vulture. It is magnificent.
None of us will live to see a California condor pair soar over our heads in the rugged wilds of America. But it's a comfort to me to know that the species is making a comeback.
Honestly, think about it. If you looked up and saw a bird with a ten-foot wingspan glide silently past, wouldn't you feel that you were in the presence of something greater than yourself?
I can ony speak for myself, but ... As for me and my house, we will worship Vulture.
Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. First clause of the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights of the United States Constitution.
Hail Vulture, the visible Higher Power!
First, a little navel-gazing.
I have worshiped vultures since I was a teenager. For many years (and even now) this religious devotion has run parallel to whatever other deities I praise and worship. However, having achieved the wisdom of a half century, I now choose to center my most important devotions around Vulture.
This puts me more within the Native American worldview than the European. There are numerous songs and dances, stories and Rituals, surrounding the Peace Eagle (aka Vulture) among Native American groups all across America. Especially in the Pacific Northwest, where the California condor was once widespread and majestic (wingspan of 10 feet -- think about it).
EXHIBIT A: GOD
Needless to say, even a glimpse of these deities from afar, in a flight cage, had immense meaning for me. (We couldn't go close, because the biologists didn't want the condors to become used to people.) Mr. Johnson could hardly live with me for weeks thereafter. Rapture? Forget about Rapture! Give me a Raptor!
At its lowest point of population, the California condor dipped to just 27 individuals. They were rounded up and kept in San Diego. Some creatures might not like being in a flight cage, but the condors are pretty happy with their dependable supply of carcasses. They have been making whoopie for 25 years.
We can be cautiously optimistic about this deity. The Sacred Thunderbird of California now is represented by approximately 400 individuals, some of them in the wild. They have been released in the Grand Canyon, where there are no power lines or hunters. Efforts are underway, partly funded by the Yurok Indians, to release condors in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, where carcasses are abundant and there are traditions of condor Ritual worship.
Angels and faeries are purported to be able to fly. Vultures can do it visibly and gracefully. No skeptical atheist can scoff at the flight of Vulture. It is magnificent.
None of us will live to see a California condor pair soar over our heads in the rugged wilds of America. But it's a comfort to me to know that the species is making a comeback.
Honestly, think about it. If you looked up and saw a bird with a ten-foot wingspan glide silently past, wouldn't you feel that you were in the presence of something greater than yourself?
I can ony speak for myself, but ... As for me and my house, we will worship Vulture.
Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. First clause of the First Amendment of the Bill of Rights of the United States Constitution.
Hail Vulture, the visible Higher Power!
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored! What is Kansas famous for, my friends? Why, Dorothy, the Tin Man, and Glenda, the Good Witch, that's what! But more recently, Kansas has become the birthplace of a fabulous new deity Whose followers have grown so numerous that you can find them in every state! And today we are blessed with an interview with our Noodly Master, the Flying Spaghetti Monster! Please give Him/Her/It a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome!
Anne: Arrrggghghhg! Avast, matey! How be you today?
FSM: That's what fills my pasta bowl. Respect! You speak in pirate, which is required of all My disciples.
Anne: Well, I'll give it the old heave-ho try, Noodly Master. Arrr, can You hoist the top'sl and tell us how You came to the attention of Americans everywhere?
FSM: The Kansas Board of Education declared that teachers would be required to tell students the false story of some god who created the world in six days. False, false, false! I created the world. Me, the Flying Spaghetti Monster! It was a complicated process. Very scientific. With meatballs.
Anne: Arrr, speak, matey, about how this boiled over to the Kansas Board of Education?
FSM: One of My disciples wrote a strongly-worded letter to the KBE, declaring that students who were taught about Genesis in science class should actually learn about Me instead, since I'm the One who got the meatball rolling, turned down the simmering seas, and touched humankind with my Noodly Appendage. This concerned disciple said that he was dismayed that students would be taught lies, when they could learn about the scientific principles behind My Godhood. It's not fair to teach one bogus creation story when there's a True One out there.
Anne: My readers can see the whole revealed religion here. And, arrghghgh, while I'm lashing landlubbers to the mast, I'll wave my cutlass at that ship of fools called DC40, who couldn't even slash and burn themselves into a dot.org! You, Noodly Master, are a certified, nonprofit religion!
FSM: Recruiting pirates and wenches everywhere, especially around Halloween!
Anne: Flying Spaghetti Monster, You have some powerful enemies. Not terribly bright, but powerful nonetheless. They'd like to simmer the al dente right out of You.
FSM: Not a chance of that! Knowledge is Power! And please note that many of My disciples were atheists until they found Me. These disciples are some of My most ardent! I am definitely ready to serve the millions!
Anne: Arrghghg! And a goodly feast t'would be too! Please accept my gift of virgin olive oil, O Noodly One!
FSM: I am pleased by this. Anne Johnson, from here to the day of your death, you will never eat a bad pasta dinner ... ever.
Anne: Considering that I live in New Jersey, and there's an Italian restaurant on every corner, that's a pretty scientific prediction. Noodly Master, look at this brilliant portrayal of Yourself by disciple TJ Morgan of Atheist Nexis!
Anne: District of the Flying Spaghetti Monster! Arrrghgh! That has a certain ring to it, it does! We could require the president to wear a frock coat and a feather in his pirate hat during his inauguration! (The irony of this does not escape me.)
FSM: My disciples will see that this is done. They are praying about it even as we speak.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.
This includes, and could for my money be limited to, the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster!
Pray on, pirates!
As always, howdy howdy howdy from "The Gods Are Bored!" How are y'all?
Well, I think I'm a day behind the bell-ringing black magicians who want to void our Constitution and declare American dependence upon Jesus Christ. But that's okay! Consider me the cute little janitor who mops up after Mr. Peabody's and Sherman's big parade!
Whoa, sports fans. That sure dates me, doesn't it?
West Virginia is the state that needs cleansing today. To this I am firmly dedicated. You see, my conversion to Paganism became official in West Virginia. And when I need to meditate with the Salmon of Wisdom, it is to West Virginia that I return.
Little U.S. history here: When the Civil War began, Virginia seceded from the Union. But fully half the state consisted of rugged mountaineers who farmed difficult terrain for a subsistence living, using only themselves and their children as the workers. These people did not support slavery. So they didn't want to secede. Magnanimous President Lincoln declared them a state all unto themselves. And if ever a division of territory was meet and just, this was the occasion.
As for my conversion to Paganism, it was a slow process, beginning with connection to the Divine Feminine through the Blessed Mother of God. Which of course has no place in Methodism, except for the teenager who gets to dress up like Mary for the Xmas pageant.
More and more I began to pray to the Blessed Mother. More and more I began to feel Faerie all around me. I read up on Discordianism (a real favorite) and began to explore the Druid path. But slowly.
Then it hit.
My dad broke his hip. He was in end stages of Parkinson's Disease. When I went to see him in the nursing home, he told me he saw Peter Pan in the doorway of his room, "just standing there, with his hands on his hips."
Shaken by the sight of my dad in his last days, I got in his car and drove to Berkeley Springs, WV. For years I had been dreaming of a sacred spring that would heal my sorrows. Literally, readers. Years. In my dreams I was always looking for it. Little did I know that it was Berkeley Springs, a town near where I grew up, but just far enough away that I only went there at night, for away football games.
By day I discovered that Berkeley Springs is a warm springs (charming place), and for twenty bucks you can bathe in a huge tub of heated springwater.
It's like that tub of Berkeley Springs water just washed away the Fertile Crescent god entirely. What was already eroding just plain exploded. I went into that bath house one person, and came out an entirely different person.
And when I emerged into the air, the whole universe had expanded before me. I felt Divine from a hundred thousand sources. Not just one pantheon, not just one vulture in the sky. Everywhere.
I felt Faerie too. Major Faerie. And yes, I could see Them at that moment. Some were in the spillway, some were playing with the children, and Some were across the street in the window of a store. (Jules Enchanting Gifts, see Sidebar.)
Three months later, this blog was born. It is dedicated to any and every deity that can or could be called "Pagan." I once told Isaac Bonewits that I'm not a polytheist, I'm an omnitheist. Show me your deity, and I will praise Him/Her/It.
I follow the Druid path, somewhat. I say somewhat because I even believe in the Fomorians and Fir Bolgs and all the deities displaced by the Celtic pantheon. None of this matters, though. Divine is everywhere. It cannot be quantified, reified, or understood with our limited brain function.
Thank you, thank you, West Virginia. State of my heart. Love of my life. Forget the "almost." The place is Heaven. Ask any bored deitiy. Ask me.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.
--Bill of Rights, U.S. Constitution
"When I die, won't you bury me in the mountains? Far away in my Blue Ridge Mountain home."
Well, I think I'm a day behind the bell-ringing black magicians who want to void our Constitution and declare American dependence upon Jesus Christ. But that's okay! Consider me the cute little janitor who mops up after Mr. Peabody's and Sherman's big parade!
Whoa, sports fans. That sure dates me, doesn't it?
West Virginia is the state that needs cleansing today. To this I am firmly dedicated. You see, my conversion to Paganism became official in West Virginia. And when I need to meditate with the Salmon of Wisdom, it is to West Virginia that I return.
Little U.S. history here: When the Civil War began, Virginia seceded from the Union. But fully half the state consisted of rugged mountaineers who farmed difficult terrain for a subsistence living, using only themselves and their children as the workers. These people did not support slavery. So they didn't want to secede. Magnanimous President Lincoln declared them a state all unto themselves. And if ever a division of territory was meet and just, this was the occasion.
As for my conversion to Paganism, it was a slow process, beginning with connection to the Divine Feminine through the Blessed Mother of God. Which of course has no place in Methodism, except for the teenager who gets to dress up like Mary for the Xmas pageant.
More and more I began to pray to the Blessed Mother. More and more I began to feel Faerie all around me. I read up on Discordianism (a real favorite) and began to explore the Druid path. But slowly.
Then it hit.
My dad broke his hip. He was in end stages of Parkinson's Disease. When I went to see him in the nursing home, he told me he saw Peter Pan in the doorway of his room, "just standing there, with his hands on his hips."
Shaken by the sight of my dad in his last days, I got in his car and drove to Berkeley Springs, WV. For years I had been dreaming of a sacred spring that would heal my sorrows. Literally, readers. Years. In my dreams I was always looking for it. Little did I know that it was Berkeley Springs, a town near where I grew up, but just far enough away that I only went there at night, for away football games.
By day I discovered that Berkeley Springs is a warm springs (charming place), and for twenty bucks you can bathe in a huge tub of heated springwater.
It's like that tub of Berkeley Springs water just washed away the Fertile Crescent god entirely. What was already eroding just plain exploded. I went into that bath house one person, and came out an entirely different person.
And when I emerged into the air, the whole universe had expanded before me. I felt Divine from a hundred thousand sources. Not just one pantheon, not just one vulture in the sky. Everywhere.
I felt Faerie too. Major Faerie. And yes, I could see Them at that moment. Some were in the spillway, some were playing with the children, and Some were across the street in the window of a store. (Jules Enchanting Gifts, see Sidebar.)
Three months later, this blog was born. It is dedicated to any and every deity that can or could be called "Pagan." I once told Isaac Bonewits that I'm not a polytheist, I'm an omnitheist. Show me your deity, and I will praise Him/Her/It.
I follow the Druid path, somewhat. I say somewhat because I even believe in the Fomorians and Fir Bolgs and all the deities displaced by the Celtic pantheon. None of this matters, though. Divine is everywhere. It cannot be quantified, reified, or understood with our limited brain function.
Thank you, thank you, West Virginia. State of my heart. Love of my life. Forget the "almost." The place is Heaven. Ask any bored deitiy. Ask me.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.
--Bill of Rights, U.S. Constitution
"When I die, won't you bury me in the mountains? Far away in my Blue Ridge Mountain home."
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" It's the holy month of Samhain. No better time than that to send laughter and love to every state in America! Today we're fishing with the Devil. Not really, of course. We have no commerce with the Devil. Nor do the good sports men and women (and kids, the photos are awesome) who enjoy the beautiful environs of Devils Lake, North Dakota.
EXHIBIT A: THE LAKE BEARING THE NAME OF DEVIL INTO AMERICA
I have always wondered why there are so many great and small geographical anomalies named after the Devil.
We all know which Devil I'm referring to. He has lots of names. My favorite is "Mr. Applegate." But call him what you will, the Devil is:
1. Christian pantheon, and
2. Male.
He makes you buy dresses, abuse substances, murder kittens, whatever. And if you worship him, what the hell are you doing here at "The Gods Are Bored?" Go get yourself some ugly skull tattoo, head down into your mother's basement, and listen to Ozzy records to your heart's content. Just don't darken this blog. The Devil is evil. We hate evil in all its forms. It sucks, and that's that. Go away, Devil worshiper!
But back to the topic. Devils Lake derives its name from a mistranslation of a Sioux term. The Sioux (cleaned out and sent packing) called it "Bad Spirit Water." Only the Sioux have no Devil in their pantheon. The "bad spirit" was the lake's salinity, which varies depending upon rainfall.
Here's the satellite photo. This puppy is a big lake. And very popular with sports enthusiasts, especially those who fish.
In "One Nation under God and Only God," what would this lake be called? Would the fish in it be considered evil? Would it be re-named Turtledove Lake, or Gabriel Lake, or something causing a financial turmoil as businesses, mapmakers, hotels, and restaurants -- and a whole friggin town changes signs?
You see how silly things could become in a One God world?
Where I grew up, there were many geographical features named after the Devil. Most of them reflected the Devil's personality: jumbles of rocks at the bottom of mountains (Devil's Racecourse, Devil's Den), odd bends in the Antietam Creek (Devil's Backbone). And that's just in one little section of Appalachia. Imagine having to re-name everything that has "Devil" in the title. Crikey, even a sports team!
The moral of this little sermon is this: Any theocracy must bend over backwards to eliminate the perceived evil in its midst. This would have to include an Orwellian eradication of stuff named after the Devil ... no matter whether its a mistranslation from Sioux (cleaned out and sent packing) or not.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of relgion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. --Bill of Rights, U.S. Constitution.
The devil's in the details.
EXHIBIT A: THE LAKE BEARING THE NAME OF DEVIL INTO AMERICA
I have always wondered why there are so many great and small geographical anomalies named after the Devil.
We all know which Devil I'm referring to. He has lots of names. My favorite is "Mr. Applegate." But call him what you will, the Devil is:
1. Christian pantheon, and
2. Male.
He makes you buy dresses, abuse substances, murder kittens, whatever. And if you worship him, what the hell are you doing here at "The Gods Are Bored?" Go get yourself some ugly skull tattoo, head down into your mother's basement, and listen to Ozzy records to your heart's content. Just don't darken this blog. The Devil is evil. We hate evil in all its forms. It sucks, and that's that. Go away, Devil worshiper!
But back to the topic. Devils Lake derives its name from a mistranslation of a Sioux term. The Sioux (cleaned out and sent packing) called it "Bad Spirit Water." Only the Sioux have no Devil in their pantheon. The "bad spirit" was the lake's salinity, which varies depending upon rainfall.
In "One Nation under God and Only God," what would this lake be called? Would the fish in it be considered evil? Would it be re-named Turtledove Lake, or Gabriel Lake, or something causing a financial turmoil as businesses, mapmakers, hotels, and restaurants -- and a whole friggin town changes signs?
You see how silly things could become in a One God world?
Where I grew up, there were many geographical features named after the Devil. Most of them reflected the Devil's personality: jumbles of rocks at the bottom of mountains (Devil's Racecourse, Devil's Den), odd bends in the Antietam Creek (Devil's Backbone). And that's just in one little section of Appalachia. Imagine having to re-name everything that has "Devil" in the title. Crikey, even a sports team!
The moral of this little sermon is this: Any theocracy must bend over backwards to eliminate the perceived evil in its midst. This would have to include an Orwellian eradication of stuff named after the Devil ... no matter whether its a mistranslation from Sioux (cleaned out and sent packing) or not.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of relgion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. --Bill of Rights, U.S. Constitution.
The devil's in the details.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," sports fans! If you follow pro sports at all (and I know some of you do), you have to feel just a little bit sorry for a Phillies/Eagles fan today. Wowsa, did we have an awful weekend!
This is Joe Montana. He's a famous quarterback, and that's just about all I know about him. For the purposes of this post, Joe was chosen for his name. Montana. Get it?
Love him or hate him, Joe Montana did most of his playing on Sunday. A dizzying majority of NFL games are played on Sunday. You've got Monday night, Thanksgiving, and an odd Saturday here and there. Otherwise, the Day of Rest is anything but, if you make millions on the gridiron.
Can you imagine Sundays without football? Can you remember when the stores were all closed on Sunday? Do you recall a time when you didn't have to drive your kid to soccer games on Sunday? Golly, they play those puppies on Sunday mornings! The effrontery!
When it comes to entertainment, retail, and amateur sporting events, Sunday is the best day to git r done. Right, Joe? (I think he played in a few Super Bowls. If you know more, share.)
The Amish and the Old Order Mennonites do not work on Sunday. They even cook Sunday dinner on Saturday, so they don't have to work in the kitchen. The entirety of Sunday is spent in church, or lounging at someone's home. I don't know what they do about tending the livestock, but suffice it to say that they don't make book on the 49ers and then cluster around the big screen, cheering every play.
A national movement that would change the District of Columbia to the District of Christ might have its own ideas about how Sunday should be spent. No more NFL? No more quick jaunts to Target for trouser socks? No more kid soccer, band practice, Broadway shows? Would the new slogan be, "Bring Back the Blue Laws?" The founders of Chick-fil-a would sure go for that!
Way back when I was a Methodist, I remember one Sunday when the bishop came to preach at our church. He was a zealous dude, all done up in fancy robes. The first thing he said when he came to the pulpit was, "If you think you're getting home from here in time to watch the Eagles today, think again. If watching the Eagles is more important than your soul, get up and leave now."
He then preached a 90-minute sermon. If looks could kill, the Eagles fans in that congregation would have struck that pious windbag down like you stomp a spider that's after your kitten.
Long pass from Montana to Jerry Rice made short, a Christian theocracy could change the contours of Sunday for us all. Considering how poorly the Eagles played this week, I'd say to Cindy Jacobs ... bring it on.
Not.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion. Play ball!
This is Joe Montana. He's a famous quarterback, and that's just about all I know about him. For the purposes of this post, Joe was chosen for his name. Montana. Get it?
Love him or hate him, Joe Montana did most of his playing on Sunday. A dizzying majority of NFL games are played on Sunday. You've got Monday night, Thanksgiving, and an odd Saturday here and there. Otherwise, the Day of Rest is anything but, if you make millions on the gridiron.
Can you imagine Sundays without football? Can you remember when the stores were all closed on Sunday? Do you recall a time when you didn't have to drive your kid to soccer games on Sunday? Golly, they play those puppies on Sunday mornings! The effrontery!
When it comes to entertainment, retail, and amateur sporting events, Sunday is the best day to git r done. Right, Joe? (I think he played in a few Super Bowls. If you know more, share.)
The Amish and the Old Order Mennonites do not work on Sunday. They even cook Sunday dinner on Saturday, so they don't have to work in the kitchen. The entirety of Sunday is spent in church, or lounging at someone's home. I don't know what they do about tending the livestock, but suffice it to say that they don't make book on the 49ers and then cluster around the big screen, cheering every play.
A national movement that would change the District of Columbia to the District of Christ might have its own ideas about how Sunday should be spent. No more NFL? No more quick jaunts to Target for trouser socks? No more kid soccer, band practice, Broadway shows? Would the new slogan be, "Bring Back the Blue Laws?" The founders of Chick-fil-a would sure go for that!
Way back when I was a Methodist, I remember one Sunday when the bishop came to preach at our church. He was a zealous dude, all done up in fancy robes. The first thing he said when he came to the pulpit was, "If you think you're getting home from here in time to watch the Eagles today, think again. If watching the Eagles is more important than your soul, get up and leave now."
He then preached a 90-minute sermon. If looks could kill, the Eagles fans in that congregation would have struck that pious windbag down like you stomp a spider that's after your kitten.
Long pass from Montana to Jerry Rice made short, a Christian theocracy could change the contours of Sunday for us all. Considering how poorly the Eagles played this week, I'd say to Cindy Jacobs ... bring it on.
Not.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion. Play ball!
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," today honoring the varieties of religious devotion in the great state of Washington! Never been there. Would like to go some day. Send money. (Just kidding.)
Among the most fantastic phenomena in the Pacific Northwest is the run of spawning salmon. Unlike Atlantic salmon, who spawn and move on, Pacific salmon swim upstream to the place where they were spawned. There they breed, and there they die. Considering the importance of this food source, its not surprising that the Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest have many Scriptures of revealed religion about the Salmon, from how It got into their nets to how It behaves with Its fellow Salmon in the great briny depths.
The ancient Celts also have a whopper of a Salmon story, and its star is here with me today. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Fintan, the Salmon of Wisdom!
Anne: Fintan, the Native Americans of Washington State say that Salmon act like humans when no one is watching them. Could this be so? I mean, other than You, of course. I've always considered You a special exception, considering the fact that you had the good sense to eat the hazel nuts of Wisdom, rather than chow down on some schlub named Jonah.
Fintan: Speaking on behalf of My Fishes, we do not wish to reveal Our ways to humans, other than what you see on Animal Planet.
Anne: Why not?
Fintan: You would be envious of our superiority.
Anne: Yes, I sure would. I'm envious of ant colonies. But let's talk about normal humans for a moment. Would they, too, be envious of the superiority of Salmon?
Fintan: Yes indeed they would.
Anne: Why?
Fintan: For one thing, we all get along. Nary a harsh bubble passes between one salmon and another. You'll hear one big alpha male call out to another: "Hey, watch out for that grizzly on the bank! Right there, under the pine tree!"
Anne: Wow, I do wish people were like that!
Fintan: Suffice it to say, no underfed, undernourished Salmon have ever had to camp out in the pool demanding better treatment from the fat, comfortable Salmon.
Anne: Would that it were so among humans!
Fintan: We also understand completely the entire nature of the Universe. Humans aren't ready to know. When they are, they'll know to ask us.
Anne: The Native Americans of Washington State have a legend that their Ancient Ones could put the bones of a salmon into the water, and the bones would become fleshed-out and alive again.
Fintan: Fie on you, Anne Johnson! That's no legend. It's an archetype of the collective unconscious, having to do with the cyclical nature of sustainable food sources!
Anne (to herself): They don't call Him the Salmon of Wisdom for nothing! (To Fintan) You know, o Salmon, that I was once very disdainful of hunters and people who fished for sport. Now I love these people! They are some of the most demanding environmentalists around. In Washington State they have blocked dam projects. Around here, where I live now, a group called Trout Unlimited is lobbying for strict studies on hydraulic fracturing and its impact on water quality in rural streams and rivers.
Fintan: We Salmon love these people too. Some of them are even smart enough to throw the bones back into the water! And I certainly respect the Native American people of Washington State who have shown so much respect and reverence toward their indispensable food staple.
Anne: Fintan, we've talked here often. You know I call upon You for wisdom when I'm perplexed. This is part of my praise and worship. Do you think Native American children in Washington State should be taught to praise and worship the Deities who brought nutritious and dependable Salmon into their lives?
Fintan: Coyote the Trickster figures in some of those Scriptures.
Anne: Correct again, Wise One! So. Does Coyote, and do You, deserve a place at the American altar?
Fintan: Absolutely. Anyone who thinks otherwise has a hazel nut deficiency.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. Wisdom to live by from the Bill of Rights of the Constitution of the United States of America.
Among the most fantastic phenomena in the Pacific Northwest is the run of spawning salmon. Unlike Atlantic salmon, who spawn and move on, Pacific salmon swim upstream to the place where they were spawned. There they breed, and there they die. Considering the importance of this food source, its not surprising that the Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest have many Scriptures of revealed religion about the Salmon, from how It got into their nets to how It behaves with Its fellow Salmon in the great briny depths.
The ancient Celts also have a whopper of a Salmon story, and its star is here with me today. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Fintan, the Salmon of Wisdom!
Anne: Fintan, the Native Americans of Washington State say that Salmon act like humans when no one is watching them. Could this be so? I mean, other than You, of course. I've always considered You a special exception, considering the fact that you had the good sense to eat the hazel nuts of Wisdom, rather than chow down on some schlub named Jonah.
Fintan: Speaking on behalf of My Fishes, we do not wish to reveal Our ways to humans, other than what you see on Animal Planet.
Anne: Why not?
Fintan: You would be envious of our superiority.
Anne: Yes, I sure would. I'm envious of ant colonies. But let's talk about normal humans for a moment. Would they, too, be envious of the superiority of Salmon?
Fintan: Yes indeed they would.
Anne: Why?
Fintan: For one thing, we all get along. Nary a harsh bubble passes between one salmon and another. You'll hear one big alpha male call out to another: "Hey, watch out for that grizzly on the bank! Right there, under the pine tree!"
Anne: Wow, I do wish people were like that!
Fintan: Suffice it to say, no underfed, undernourished Salmon have ever had to camp out in the pool demanding better treatment from the fat, comfortable Salmon.
Anne: Would that it were so among humans!
Fintan: We also understand completely the entire nature of the Universe. Humans aren't ready to know. When they are, they'll know to ask us.
Anne: The Native Americans of Washington State have a legend that their Ancient Ones could put the bones of a salmon into the water, and the bones would become fleshed-out and alive again.
Fintan: Fie on you, Anne Johnson! That's no legend. It's an archetype of the collective unconscious, having to do with the cyclical nature of sustainable food sources!
Anne (to herself): They don't call Him the Salmon of Wisdom for nothing! (To Fintan) You know, o Salmon, that I was once very disdainful of hunters and people who fished for sport. Now I love these people! They are some of the most demanding environmentalists around. In Washington State they have blocked dam projects. Around here, where I live now, a group called Trout Unlimited is lobbying for strict studies on hydraulic fracturing and its impact on water quality in rural streams and rivers.
Fintan: We Salmon love these people too. Some of them are even smart enough to throw the bones back into the water! And I certainly respect the Native American people of Washington State who have shown so much respect and reverence toward their indispensable food staple.
Anne: Fintan, we've talked here often. You know I call upon You for wisdom when I'm perplexed. This is part of my praise and worship. Do you think Native American children in Washington State should be taught to praise and worship the Deities who brought nutritious and dependable Salmon into their lives?
Fintan: Coyote the Trickster figures in some of those Scriptures.
Anne: Correct again, Wise One! So. Does Coyote, and do You, deserve a place at the American altar?
Fintan: Absolutely. Anyone who thinks otherwise has a hazel nut deficiency.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. Wisdom to live by from the Bill of Rights of the Constitution of the United States of America.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Yesterday was Back-to-School night at my school, with the emphasis on night. Literally I am holding my eyes open with a toothpick.
But onward and upward we go in our quest to protect the varieties of religious experience from those who would restrict our diets to one food item ... of their choosing!
Speaking of diets, especially those rich in spiritual properties, I have a very, very interesting companion here today. Did you know that some anthropologists believe that the consumption of hallucinogenic mushrooms may have been the foundation of the earliest forays into religious belief? Word, dudes. That stuff will make you at one with the Universe. Or so I'm told. We at "The Gods Are Bored" are not keen on ingesting fungi or controlled substances. Against the law and all that. *Occupy the DEA*
My "Gods Are Bored" guest today is not a mushroom, however. It's a leafy green New World plant, used for at least 3,000 years in sacred ceremonies throughout the tropical Americas. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Banisteriopsis caapi, better known as the hallucinogenic tea Ayahuasca!
Anne: Welcome, Ayahuasca! I'd offer you a cup of tea ... but that's what you are.
Ayahuasca: I'm not your cup of tea, though. You haven't been initiated into the Mysteries.
Anne: So true. About the most adventurous I get is a vodka gimlet. But this isn't about my religious experiences, it's about America's religious experiences. And You, o Sacred Ayahuasca, have been foully and cruelly treated! Everyone has heard the tale of the DEA agents bursting in on a ceremony of the Unaio do Vegetal praise and worship team in New Mexico. The agents pulled You right out of the priest's kitchen and carted You off to the slammer. (Or in this case, the refrigerator.)
Ayahuasca: We took them to court. To the Supreme Court. And we won.
Anne: Damn right, you won! It's called the First Amendment, and there's a long and well-documented use of Ayahuasca tea in numerous religious paths originating in the Western Hemisphere. I was rooting for Unaio do Vegetal every step of the way.
Ayahuasca: Thank you. Here is how I look at it. You never see DEA agents bursting into a First Communion, confiscating the wine, and arresting the priests for serving alcoholic beverages to minors.
Anne: Absolutely correct! But ... emmm ... playing the devil's advocate here, I'd have to say that You are far more potent than watered-down communion wine.
Ayahuasca: I am an all-powerful source of the wisdom of the universe. My followers know this and use Me with care.
Anne: As they have every right to do, under the second clause of the first sentence of the First Amendment. I've read some accounts of Your use. And of course, Timothy Leary, Terrence McKenna, and Erowid. It does sound to me like, if one used You responsibly, one could communicate with any bored god on the radar.
Ayahuasca: And many who aren't.
Anne: I understand that only the men in Your praise and worship team get to use You.
Ayahuasca: Don't pass judgment. It's My praise and worship team, and that's how we roll. Specially-trained males only.
Anne: Hey. Whatever moves the spirits of Unaio do Vegetal is a-okay with me. Ayahuasca, I hope Your legal troubles are over. How would Your praise and worship team feel if the U.S. government not only outlawed Your use, but outlawed the religion that it springs from?
Ayahuasca: We would fix that. A few infiltrators to the Albuquerque public water works, and soon everyone would be keen to join Unaio do Vegetal!
Anne: Well, that's a little extreme, even for me. Why don't You just settle for spiking the punch at the next Rick Perry prayer breakfast?
Ayahuasca: A worthy idea!
Anne: Thank you for dropping by, Ayahuasca. If I ever decide to go tripping on tryptamines, I'll give you a holler. Don't hold your breath, though. If I made it through the 1970s without dropping acid even once, I'm not likely to start at my age.
Ayahuasca: I am part of a significant and highly ritualized praise and worship. I'm not for sipping after a long day's work. Just keep that in mind.
Anne: Oh, I do! I do! See? I'm about to sip a glass of pinot grigio. The gift from Bacchus, who doesn't give a fig how it's used and abused.
To me, what is most beautiful about America is the fact that small sects like Unaio do Vegetal, who are able to tie themselves to established patterns of worship, have the absolute right to use hallucinogens in their rituals. This small New Mexico praise and worship team is hardly unique in its use (not abuse) of mind-altering substances. Long may they hold their sacred plant to their souls and soar with It to their Gods!
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America. So might it be.
But onward and upward we go in our quest to protect the varieties of religious experience from those who would restrict our diets to one food item ... of their choosing!
Speaking of diets, especially those rich in spiritual properties, I have a very, very interesting companion here today. Did you know that some anthropologists believe that the consumption of hallucinogenic mushrooms may have been the foundation of the earliest forays into religious belief? Word, dudes. That stuff will make you at one with the Universe. Or so I'm told. We at "The Gods Are Bored" are not keen on ingesting fungi or controlled substances. Against the law and all that. *Occupy the DEA*
My "Gods Are Bored" guest today is not a mushroom, however. It's a leafy green New World plant, used for at least 3,000 years in sacred ceremonies throughout the tropical Americas. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Banisteriopsis caapi, better known as the hallucinogenic tea Ayahuasca!
Anne: Welcome, Ayahuasca! I'd offer you a cup of tea ... but that's what you are.
Ayahuasca: I'm not your cup of tea, though. You haven't been initiated into the Mysteries.
Anne: So true. About the most adventurous I get is a vodka gimlet. But this isn't about my religious experiences, it's about America's religious experiences. And You, o Sacred Ayahuasca, have been foully and cruelly treated! Everyone has heard the tale of the DEA agents bursting in on a ceremony of the Unaio do Vegetal praise and worship team in New Mexico. The agents pulled You right out of the priest's kitchen and carted You off to the slammer. (Or in this case, the refrigerator.)
Ayahuasca: We took them to court. To the Supreme Court. And we won.
Anne: Damn right, you won! It's called the First Amendment, and there's a long and well-documented use of Ayahuasca tea in numerous religious paths originating in the Western Hemisphere. I was rooting for Unaio do Vegetal every step of the way.
Ayahuasca: Thank you. Here is how I look at it. You never see DEA agents bursting into a First Communion, confiscating the wine, and arresting the priests for serving alcoholic beverages to minors.
Anne: Absolutely correct! But ... emmm ... playing the devil's advocate here, I'd have to say that You are far more potent than watered-down communion wine.
Ayahuasca: I am an all-powerful source of the wisdom of the universe. My followers know this and use Me with care.
Anne: As they have every right to do, under the second clause of the first sentence of the First Amendment. I've read some accounts of Your use. And of course, Timothy Leary, Terrence McKenna, and Erowid. It does sound to me like, if one used You responsibly, one could communicate with any bored god on the radar.
Ayahuasca: And many who aren't.
Anne: I understand that only the men in Your praise and worship team get to use You.
Ayahuasca: Don't pass judgment. It's My praise and worship team, and that's how we roll. Specially-trained males only.
Anne: Hey. Whatever moves the spirits of Unaio do Vegetal is a-okay with me. Ayahuasca, I hope Your legal troubles are over. How would Your praise and worship team feel if the U.S. government not only outlawed Your use, but outlawed the religion that it springs from?
Ayahuasca: We would fix that. A few infiltrators to the Albuquerque public water works, and soon everyone would be keen to join Unaio do Vegetal!
Anne: Well, that's a little extreme, even for me. Why don't You just settle for spiking the punch at the next Rick Perry prayer breakfast?
Ayahuasca: A worthy idea!
Anne: Thank you for dropping by, Ayahuasca. If I ever decide to go tripping on tryptamines, I'll give you a holler. Don't hold your breath, though. If I made it through the 1970s without dropping acid even once, I'm not likely to start at my age.
Ayahuasca: I am part of a significant and highly ritualized praise and worship. I'm not for sipping after a long day's work. Just keep that in mind.
Anne: Oh, I do! I do! See? I'm about to sip a glass of pinot grigio. The gift from Bacchus, who doesn't give a fig how it's used and abused.
To me, what is most beautiful about America is the fact that small sects like Unaio do Vegetal, who are able to tie themselves to established patterns of worship, have the absolute right to use hallucinogens in their rituals. This small New Mexico praise and worship team is hardly unique in its use (not abuse) of mind-altering substances. Long may they hold their sacred plant to their souls and soar with It to their Gods!
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America. So might it be.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," deliberating with downsized deities since 2005! If you're a late arrival here, you've parked curbside just in the nick of time! We're having a good ol' bored god tent revival in response to a hornet's nest of theocrats bent upon making One Nation under God a legal reality.
This benign little group is called DC40, and they're rather tied in to Rick Perry. You can read all about it over at The Wild Hunt Blog. Just click my sidebar and follow the tags.
DC40 began on October 3 to concentrateblack magic prayer intentions toward Hawaii. Every day the group will direct their black magic odd bell-ringing prayers toward another state, going backwards to (I presume they know their history) modest little Delaware. They plan an 11-day visit to Philadelphia in November.
That's in the future. We've got to concentrate on the here and now. And with that, I have another bored Goddess here with me today. Please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Sedna, Sacred Goddess of the Inuit Peoples!
Sedna: Goodness, it's warm here! Is October always like this in New Jersey?
Anne: Actually we're finally getting somewhat seasonal temperatures. It has been very warm and rainy here for the past month and a half. Dear Goddess, let me go make you a nice bucket of ice water. Home Sweet Home and all that.
Sedna: Thank you.
Anne: Sedna, just FYI, here's what the folks at DC40 wrote about Alaska on their web site:
On October 4, it will be Alaska’s turn to take the point position of leading intercession in releasing the power of eternal light over our nation’s capital, with the strength of the other 49 standing as one alongside her.
Sedna: The power of eternal light? From Alaska? In mid-winter we hardly get any light at all! Even now the days are getting shorter by the eye-blink. If I have anything to say about it, Alaska will not be releasing any light that we need ourselves to get prepared for the long winter ahead.
Anne: A highly sensible strategy, Great Goddess.
Sedna: And frankly, my praise and worship team has little fondness for the "other 49." The other 49? All they want from us is cheap oil, at any cost to My pristine wilderness. What's the name of that guy who's interested in getting Alaska to secede from the "other 49?"
Anne: Todd Palin?
Sedna: Yeah, I think he's one of them. Not that I want a moron like him in charge of anything, but my praise and worship team would be peachy keen on dumping the other 49. And keeping the oil in the ground, where it won't poison waterways and kill wildlife.
Anne: Speaking of the Palins, what have you to say about Sarah?
Sedna: Took care of her.
Anne: What?
Sedna: Did you see how foolish she made herself look? She's not that stupid. But when you run at cross-purposes to Sedna, She will rattle your brain.
Anne: You're taking credit for Sarah's precipitous fall from power?
Sedna: Well, Anne, it's like this. If DC40 and its ilk think that they can influence people with prayer, then guess what? So can the followers of Sedna! My praise and worship team prayed constantly that Sarah Palin would tank like a stone, and so she has done. And now ...
Anne: Oooo OOOOO oooo! SQUEEEEE! Rick Perry's big chums with the DC40 crowd! Is he tripping up due to the prayers of the followers of the bored gods?
Sedna: Bored gods and busy gods. Krishna is livid.
Anne: I hope we can reassure Krishna, and the Buddhists, and even the sane and sober Methodists, that this nation will remain pluralistic, embracing the great variety of people who live here and their varieties of religious experience.
Sedna: Yes, fine, pluralistic is fine, but can I get some respect for My people? Can you imagine living for millennia in one of the most hostile wilderness areas on the planet, and then being told your deities are inferior to some god who lives the soft life in the Fertile Crescent?
Anne: Good point. God's followers would not doubt credit Him with the ability to construct an igloo, but I'm skeptical.
Sedna: Me too. It's harder than it looks on those National Geographic specials.
Anne: Sedna, I have some ice cream down in the freezer. Would you like a banana split?
Sedna: No thank you. Pairing bananas and ice cream is like pairing palm trees and glaciers. Just doesn't seem right to me somehow.
Anne: Well, thank you for dropping in. We at "The Gods Are Bored" are going to lift up a prayer for You and Yours. Good luck with that long, cold winter!
Sedna: We are used to them. It's how we roll.
My dear friends, let us face Alaska and pray to Great Sedna:
"Oh gentle Sedna of the Arctic,
We pray for the protection of Your people and their way of life.
May they always reach out to You for the certain protection of their millennial ways.
Gentle Sedna, feel our concern for Your lands,
That they be held sacred.
That they not be broken in a scramble for profits.
That they hold the magnificent winter wilderness.
Go into the peaceful darkness, dear Sedna.
The light is for You and Your people.
All hail Sedna. All hail the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion.
Artwork by the absolutely incomparable Thalia Took.
This benign little group is called DC40, and they're rather tied in to Rick Perry. You can read all about it over at The Wild Hunt Blog. Just click my sidebar and follow the tags.
DC40 began on October 3 to concentrate
That's in the future. We've got to concentrate on the here and now. And with that, I have another bored Goddess here with me today. Please give a warm, wonderful "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Sedna, Sacred Goddess of the Inuit Peoples!
Sedna: Goodness, it's warm here! Is October always like this in New Jersey?
Anne: Actually we're finally getting somewhat seasonal temperatures. It has been very warm and rainy here for the past month and a half. Dear Goddess, let me go make you a nice bucket of ice water. Home Sweet Home and all that.
Sedna: Thank you.
Anne: Sedna, just FYI, here's what the folks at DC40 wrote about Alaska on their web site:
On October 4, it will be Alaska’s turn to take the point position of leading intercession in releasing the power of eternal light over our nation’s capital, with the strength of the other 49 standing as one alongside her.
Sedna: The power of eternal light? From Alaska? In mid-winter we hardly get any light at all! Even now the days are getting shorter by the eye-blink. If I have anything to say about it, Alaska will not be releasing any light that we need ourselves to get prepared for the long winter ahead.
Anne: A highly sensible strategy, Great Goddess.
Sedna: And frankly, my praise and worship team has little fondness for the "other 49." The other 49? All they want from us is cheap oil, at any cost to My pristine wilderness. What's the name of that guy who's interested in getting Alaska to secede from the "other 49?"
Anne: Todd Palin?
Sedna: Yeah, I think he's one of them. Not that I want a moron like him in charge of anything, but my praise and worship team would be peachy keen on dumping the other 49. And keeping the oil in the ground, where it won't poison waterways and kill wildlife.
Anne: Speaking of the Palins, what have you to say about Sarah?
Sedna: Took care of her.
Anne: What?
Sedna: Did you see how foolish she made herself look? She's not that stupid. But when you run at cross-purposes to Sedna, She will rattle your brain.
Anne: You're taking credit for Sarah's precipitous fall from power?
Sedna: Well, Anne, it's like this. If DC40 and its ilk think that they can influence people with prayer, then guess what? So can the followers of Sedna! My praise and worship team prayed constantly that Sarah Palin would tank like a stone, and so she has done. And now ...
Anne: Oooo OOOOO oooo! SQUEEEEE! Rick Perry's big chums with the DC40 crowd! Is he tripping up due to the prayers of the followers of the bored gods?
Sedna: Bored gods and busy gods. Krishna is livid.
Anne: I hope we can reassure Krishna, and the Buddhists, and even the sane and sober Methodists, that this nation will remain pluralistic, embracing the great variety of people who live here and their varieties of religious experience.
Sedna: Yes, fine, pluralistic is fine, but can I get some respect for My people? Can you imagine living for millennia in one of the most hostile wilderness areas on the planet, and then being told your deities are inferior to some god who lives the soft life in the Fertile Crescent?
Anne: Good point. God's followers would not doubt credit Him with the ability to construct an igloo, but I'm skeptical.
Sedna: Me too. It's harder than it looks on those National Geographic specials.
Anne: Sedna, I have some ice cream down in the freezer. Would you like a banana split?
Sedna: No thank you. Pairing bananas and ice cream is like pairing palm trees and glaciers. Just doesn't seem right to me somehow.
Anne: Well, thank you for dropping in. We at "The Gods Are Bored" are going to lift up a prayer for You and Yours. Good luck with that long, cold winter!
Sedna: We are used to them. It's how we roll.
My dear friends, let us face Alaska and pray to Great Sedna:
"Oh gentle Sedna of the Arctic,
We pray for the protection of Your people and their way of life.
May they always reach out to You for the certain protection of their millennial ways.
Gentle Sedna, feel our concern for Your lands,
That they be held sacred.
That they not be broken in a scramble for profits.
That they hold the magnificent winter wilderness.
Go into the peaceful darkness, dear Sedna.
The light is for You and Your people.
All hail Sedna. All hail the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion.
Artwork by the absolutely incomparable Thalia Took.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" In case you've missed it, this month -- so sacred to Pagans -- has been declared a war zone by some people who want Jesus to blow things up. Pish tosh to them! As the veil grows thin, we will call upon the Gods and Goddesses to protect our land from zealotry of every stripe!
Today, the nefarious group known as "DC 40," founded by the linked lunatic above, has launched its prayer assault against the great state of Hawaii, birthplace of our current president (yes, really). Little known fact: Hawaii was granted statehood the year I was born. Yep. It's me, Alaska, Hawaii, and Barbie! Great year.
In response to the DC 40 bloody rain of terror, the Great Goddess Pele, sacred to the Original People of Hawaii, has dropped by for a quick interview. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Pele!
Anne: My, my, you are a pretty Lady!
Pele: The artist Thalia Took has done a lovely likeness. Brrrr! It's cold in your house! Shall I warm things up?
Anne: Oh, no no! That's okay! Really! So kind and all, but we've got love to keep us warm here at Chateau Johnson. We don't need a Volcano Goddess. But this isn't Hawaii. This is New Jersey. Where exactly would Hawaii be without you, O Pele?
Pele: It wouldn't exist. My Sisters and I are responsible for many of the islands of the Pacific Rim.
Anne: And beautiful islands they are, too. So I'm told. I've never been to any of them. Pele, how do you feel about people who would like to pray you out of the way? It's not like they can kill you, but they can rob you of your praise and worship team.
Pele: I get steamed up about it. Who are these people, anyway? What's so special about their God?
Anne: Their God set a bush on fire, and it didn't burn. It just stood there.
Pele: That sounds like a myth to me.
Anne: Me too. I'd like to see it done again, no modern tricks.
Pele: Me too. I send out warnings before I start burning stuff up, but when I blow, things burn.
Anne: And from the nutrient-rich ashes of your fires, Great Goddess, come the verdant forests of our 50th state! All hail!
Pele: Thank you.
Anne: I've got a modest following here at "The Gods Are Bored," o Great Goddess Pele. Today I'm going to ask them to join me in prayer. Readers, please face Hawaii and pray the following:
"Great Goddess Pele of Hawaii,
Long may You live in peace as a Goddess of America.
Guard Your people as You did before the American flag flew in Your land.
We praise you, Great Pele.
Long may Your sacred fires turn into flowers!"
Pele: Oh, that's lovely! Now I must be homeward bound. Would you like to join me, Anne?
Anne: Well, let's see. On one hand, I have New Jersey, governed by Chris Christie, peppered with oil refineries and chemical plants, criss-crossed by turnpikes, and subject to all the air pollution flowing west to east across continental USA. On the other, Maui. Give me 15 minutes, Goddess, to pack my bags!
All hail Pele, Goddess of Hawaii. All hail the First Amendment of the Constitution. Congress shall pass no law respecting an establishment of religion.
Forever and ever. So might it be.
Image: Pele, by Thalia Took. Sidebar. For all your deity needs!
Today, the nefarious group known as "DC 40," founded by the linked lunatic above, has launched its prayer assault against the great state of Hawaii, birthplace of our current president (yes, really). Little known fact: Hawaii was granted statehood the year I was born. Yep. It's me, Alaska, Hawaii, and Barbie! Great year.
In response to the DC 40 bloody rain of terror, the Great Goddess Pele, sacred to the Original People of Hawaii, has dropped by for a quick interview. Please give a warm, wonderful, "Gods Are Bored" welcome to Pele!
Anne: My, my, you are a pretty Lady!
Pele: The artist Thalia Took has done a lovely likeness. Brrrr! It's cold in your house! Shall I warm things up?
Anne: Oh, no no! That's okay! Really! So kind and all, but we've got love to keep us warm here at Chateau Johnson. We don't need a Volcano Goddess. But this isn't Hawaii. This is New Jersey. Where exactly would Hawaii be without you, O Pele?
Pele: It wouldn't exist. My Sisters and I are responsible for many of the islands of the Pacific Rim.
Anne: And beautiful islands they are, too. So I'm told. I've never been to any of them. Pele, how do you feel about people who would like to pray you out of the way? It's not like they can kill you, but they can rob you of your praise and worship team.
Pele: I get steamed up about it. Who are these people, anyway? What's so special about their God?
Anne: Their God set a bush on fire, and it didn't burn. It just stood there.
Pele: That sounds like a myth to me.
Anne: Me too. I'd like to see it done again, no modern tricks.
Pele: Me too. I send out warnings before I start burning stuff up, but when I blow, things burn.
Anne: And from the nutrient-rich ashes of your fires, Great Goddess, come the verdant forests of our 50th state! All hail!
Pele: Thank you.
Anne: I've got a modest following here at "The Gods Are Bored," o Great Goddess Pele. Today I'm going to ask them to join me in prayer. Readers, please face Hawaii and pray the following:
"Great Goddess Pele of Hawaii,
Long may You live in peace as a Goddess of America.
Guard Your people as You did before the American flag flew in Your land.
We praise you, Great Pele.
Long may Your sacred fires turn into flowers!"
Pele: Oh, that's lovely! Now I must be homeward bound. Would you like to join me, Anne?
Anne: Well, let's see. On one hand, I have New Jersey, governed by Chris Christie, peppered with oil refineries and chemical plants, criss-crossed by turnpikes, and subject to all the air pollution flowing west to east across continental USA. On the other, Maui. Give me 15 minutes, Goddess, to pack my bags!
All hail Pele, Goddess of Hawaii. All hail the First Amendment of the Constitution. Congress shall pass no law respecting an establishment of religion.
Forever and ever. So might it be.
Image: Pele, by Thalia Took. Sidebar. For all your deity needs!
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Here at this little dumping ground, we are fierce proponents of the First Amendment. Yes, freedom of speech is an important Constitutional guarantee, and today the U.S. Supreme Court upheld it again. Military families have no protection from the Westboro Baptist Church and its right to free expression. Fred Phelps and his family can yell "God Hates Fags" and publish profane statements about deceased combat veterans. Hey, it's how they roll, and the Bill of Rights rolls with them.
This is as it should be, readers. We can't erode freedom of speech.
So let's use it.
The Westboro Baptist Church (an embarrassment even to the real Baptists, who don't embarrass easily) is the platform for our nation's most despicable, deplorable, demented, and disturbed retro-hominid. Fred Phelps didn't just inherit some whack job gene from sewer rat parents. He got a boatload of defective DNA, a veritable buffet of poorly organized peptides. To call this Gollum a moron is an affront to morons everywhere. Phelps delves deep into the sludge pits where even the likes of Rick Santorum and Clarence Thomas fear to penetrate. To put it plainly, there's no new low to stoop to until Fred Phelps sets the bar. He is the final force in the universe of low.
Fred Phelps's god hates fags because Fred Phelps's god is a Great Beast. Yes, you can't really identify Fred Phelps's god with any known deity outside a few sparse Bible verses that were probably written by some saggy old priest somewhere who wasn't getting any. We won't even tar and feather Yahweh with Fred Phelps. Granted, Yahweh's standards are questionable, but He's not killing U.S. soldiers because of rainbow marriages. This lunacy arises from the mind of Fred Phelps, a creepy sick deviant who probably beats puppies with sticks and pulls the first spring crocuses up because God Hates Purple. Fred Phelps's god belongs to Fred and his family alone: a dirty deity doing dastardly dumbass deeds.
Fred Phelps and his family make China's one-child policy look attractive. If he was a crop, it would be time to rotate, plow under, and plant poison ivy. If he was plastic, he'd be the one piece you wouldn't recycle. If he was news, it wouldn't be fit to print. If he was a car, you would park him on a dark street and leave the keys in the ignition. If he was a fur coat, we would all move to Florida, and if he was a bathing suit we'd high-tail it for the Yukon. If he was gum disease, we would all floss.
Every bored god that ever was hates Fred Phelps. I have personally petitioned numerous deities to rain misery upon Fred's head. Every time he has a flat tire, it's the wrath of a bored god. That fungus under his toenails? A bored god from Borneo (thanks be unto Him). Even as we speak, Aphrodite is making Fred Phelps's wife uglier and Fred hornier. That pesky mud puddle Fred stepped in at his last military funeral? Sent by Chac the Rain God. You go, Chac!
May a thousand small but highly annoying calamities befall Fred Phelps over the course of a day, a month, a year. And let us, one and all, make note of where he gets buried, so we can expectorate and release flatulence upon his grave. We'll get a sign-up sheet and do it in shifts, like an eternal flame.
Go to hell, Fred Phelps ... if hell will have you. Don't ask me about your chances with that pantheon. I doubt if even the Devil would want your sick-ass company. So go and die in an existential way. Cease to exist, leave no trace, go to oblivion and don't return. Think of yourself as light leaving a star, and just travel across the universe without hitting anything until you reach a Black Hole with very, very low standards of what it will suck inside itself.
I'm Anne Johnson, and I have a First Amendment right to say that Fred Phelps is a demon spawn. It's a damned shame the rest of us have to share this planet with him. If I ever see him I will shout loudly at him, words I don't usually use. But I won't ask him to kiss my ass. We all know what those lips say, but we don't know where they've been. Touch my flesh with them? I. Think. Not.
This is as it should be, readers. We can't erode freedom of speech.
So let's use it.
The Westboro Baptist Church (an embarrassment even to the real Baptists, who don't embarrass easily) is the platform for our nation's most despicable, deplorable, demented, and disturbed retro-hominid. Fred Phelps didn't just inherit some whack job gene from sewer rat parents. He got a boatload of defective DNA, a veritable buffet of poorly organized peptides. To call this Gollum a moron is an affront to morons everywhere. Phelps delves deep into the sludge pits where even the likes of Rick Santorum and Clarence Thomas fear to penetrate. To put it plainly, there's no new low to stoop to until Fred Phelps sets the bar. He is the final force in the universe of low.
Fred Phelps's god hates fags because Fred Phelps's god is a Great Beast. Yes, you can't really identify Fred Phelps's god with any known deity outside a few sparse Bible verses that were probably written by some saggy old priest somewhere who wasn't getting any. We won't even tar and feather Yahweh with Fred Phelps. Granted, Yahweh's standards are questionable, but He's not killing U.S. soldiers because of rainbow marriages. This lunacy arises from the mind of Fred Phelps, a creepy sick deviant who probably beats puppies with sticks and pulls the first spring crocuses up because God Hates Purple. Fred Phelps's god belongs to Fred and his family alone: a dirty deity doing dastardly dumbass deeds.
Fred Phelps and his family make China's one-child policy look attractive. If he was a crop, it would be time to rotate, plow under, and plant poison ivy. If he was plastic, he'd be the one piece you wouldn't recycle. If he was news, it wouldn't be fit to print. If he was a car, you would park him on a dark street and leave the keys in the ignition. If he was a fur coat, we would all move to Florida, and if he was a bathing suit we'd high-tail it for the Yukon. If he was gum disease, we would all floss.
Every bored god that ever was hates Fred Phelps. I have personally petitioned numerous deities to rain misery upon Fred's head. Every time he has a flat tire, it's the wrath of a bored god. That fungus under his toenails? A bored god from Borneo (thanks be unto Him). Even as we speak, Aphrodite is making Fred Phelps's wife uglier and Fred hornier. That pesky mud puddle Fred stepped in at his last military funeral? Sent by Chac the Rain God. You go, Chac!
May a thousand small but highly annoying calamities befall Fred Phelps over the course of a day, a month, a year. And let us, one and all, make note of where he gets buried, so we can expectorate and release flatulence upon his grave. We'll get a sign-up sheet and do it in shifts, like an eternal flame.
Go to hell, Fred Phelps ... if hell will have you. Don't ask me about your chances with that pantheon. I doubt if even the Devil would want your sick-ass company. So go and die in an existential way. Cease to exist, leave no trace, go to oblivion and don't return. Think of yourself as light leaving a star, and just travel across the universe without hitting anything until you reach a Black Hole with very, very low standards of what it will suck inside itself.
I'm Anne Johnson, and I have a First Amendment right to say that Fred Phelps is a demon spawn. It's a damned shame the rest of us have to share this planet with him. If I ever see him I will shout loudly at him, words I don't usually use. But I won't ask him to kiss my ass. We all know what those lips say, but we don't know where they've been. Touch my flesh with them? I. Think. Not.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" Sometimes we talk about "the Wee People." Sometimes we talk about "We the People." Either way, we always set aside a nice slice of pie just for you!
Last weekend I drove from the flatlands to the mountains and back again, using one of the busiest stretches of roadway in the Great Blue Northeast. Even on Eostra morning the traffic was brutal. But Spare and I got home safely.
Monday afternoon when I went to pick up Spare from high school (an unusual treat), I got rear-ended by a teenage driver who admitted she had only had her license since January. Both Spare and I got whiplash, but it could have been worse. If the teenage driver had hit me just a little harder, I would have been pushed into a crowd of pedestrians. They were the reason I stopped in the first place.
This morning I drove my car over to the body shop for a new rear bumper. As the insurance adjuster was examining the damage, I happened to see my handy First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, carefully attached to the exterior of my Dodge. Thank goodness it's not on the bumper! It's on the side of the car, up at eye level.
It says right in the First Amendment that American citizens are guaranteed "freedom of speech."
This is just another of those super-simplified statements in our nation's principal code of law. Freedom of speech covers everything from saying, "Excuse me" when you need to get past a fellow citizen on the sidewalk, to shouting, "Dead soldiers are proof that God hates fags!" at a funeral for a Marine corpsman killed in the line of duty.
Boggles the mind, doesn't it?
Something tells me the original framers of the U.S. Bill of Rights didn't envision some of the applications of freedom of speech that today serve as a barometer of the lack of civility in our populace.
I needn't link you to the loathsome Westboro Baptist Church. Nor do I need to explain to you that this small fringe group of hellhounds has seized upon military funerals as a way to publicize their radical anti-gay message. Nor do you need to believe in our "mission" in Iraq in order to mourn the loss of a young man in the prime of life -- even if he chose to be a soldier, knowing the job is almost as dangerous as coal mining.
There are myriad species of pond scum that have more appeal than the handful of haters that comprise the Westboro Baptist Church. Sadly, as our U.S. Constitution is currently written, WBC has certain rights under the First Amendment.
Our Supreme Court of the United States (also known as JBB -- Justices for Big Business) will hear a case against the WBC, brought by a parent of a Marine. This is the first time a case against WBC has advanced to JBB. It's hard to say how the current batch of (In)justices will decide, since some of them pad their benches with the Constitution.
As we at "The Gods Are Bored" see it, this case must fall in favor of WBC. The nebulous quality of the First Amendment allows for odious shouting -- and the resulting mental trauma -- doled out by lunatic hellhounds who somehow manage never to get into scuffles that they start themselves. Freedom of speech. It's there. If the WBC can't shout at military funerals, then what comes next? Perhaps we need to ask the Chinese.
Cruel, hard-hearted Anne! What if that was your daughter, being lowered into a grave under the watchful eyes of a military escort, as someone in the background shouts, "This is proof that God hates fags!"
Here's what I say to that.
Grieving parents, We the People hear you. We feel your pain. Such a vast majority of us feel your pain that the pain crosses every religious and political boundary. We are behind you, grieving parents. We are behind you with moral outrage and deep sympathy.
I wish to add the following:
WBC is a tiny fringe group that has gotten just what it wanted -- publicity, and lots of it. If that publicity leads to widespread disruptions of solemn funerals or other life-changing events it will be time not to pass a law, but to amend the Constitution.
Which state in this nation would vote against a Right to Dignity at Religious Observance Amendment to the U.S. Constitution? You tell me. Where do you live?
Not that I'm looking out for my own selfish interests here, but the above proposed Constitutional Amendment would also prohibit the rabid Christians who shout abuse at the Fairy Festival attendees. I see all silver cloud with no lining here! Please tell me if I'm wrong.
Last weekend I drove from the flatlands to the mountains and back again, using one of the busiest stretches of roadway in the Great Blue Northeast. Even on Eostra morning the traffic was brutal. But Spare and I got home safely.
Monday afternoon when I went to pick up Spare from high school (an unusual treat), I got rear-ended by a teenage driver who admitted she had only had her license since January. Both Spare and I got whiplash, but it could have been worse. If the teenage driver had hit me just a little harder, I would have been pushed into a crowd of pedestrians. They were the reason I stopped in the first place.
This morning I drove my car over to the body shop for a new rear bumper. As the insurance adjuster was examining the damage, I happened to see my handy First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, carefully attached to the exterior of my Dodge. Thank goodness it's not on the bumper! It's on the side of the car, up at eye level.
It says right in the First Amendment that American citizens are guaranteed "freedom of speech."
This is just another of those super-simplified statements in our nation's principal code of law. Freedom of speech covers everything from saying, "Excuse me" when you need to get past a fellow citizen on the sidewalk, to shouting, "Dead soldiers are proof that God hates fags!" at a funeral for a Marine corpsman killed in the line of duty.
Boggles the mind, doesn't it?
Something tells me the original framers of the U.S. Bill of Rights didn't envision some of the applications of freedom of speech that today serve as a barometer of the lack of civility in our populace.
I needn't link you to the loathsome Westboro Baptist Church. Nor do I need to explain to you that this small fringe group of hellhounds has seized upon military funerals as a way to publicize their radical anti-gay message. Nor do you need to believe in our "mission" in Iraq in order to mourn the loss of a young man in the prime of life -- even if he chose to be a soldier, knowing the job is almost as dangerous as coal mining.
There are myriad species of pond scum that have more appeal than the handful of haters that comprise the Westboro Baptist Church. Sadly, as our U.S. Constitution is currently written, WBC has certain rights under the First Amendment.
Our Supreme Court of the United States (also known as JBB -- Justices for Big Business) will hear a case against the WBC, brought by a parent of a Marine. This is the first time a case against WBC has advanced to JBB. It's hard to say how the current batch of (In)justices will decide, since some of them pad their benches with the Constitution.
As we at "The Gods Are Bored" see it, this case must fall in favor of WBC. The nebulous quality of the First Amendment allows for odious shouting -- and the resulting mental trauma -- doled out by lunatic hellhounds who somehow manage never to get into scuffles that they start themselves. Freedom of speech. It's there. If the WBC can't shout at military funerals, then what comes next? Perhaps we need to ask the Chinese.
Cruel, hard-hearted Anne! What if that was your daughter, being lowered into a grave under the watchful eyes of a military escort, as someone in the background shouts, "This is proof that God hates fags!"
Here's what I say to that.
Grieving parents, We the People hear you. We feel your pain. Such a vast majority of us feel your pain that the pain crosses every religious and political boundary. We are behind you, grieving parents. We are behind you with moral outrage and deep sympathy.
I wish to add the following:
WBC is a tiny fringe group that has gotten just what it wanted -- publicity, and lots of it. If that publicity leads to widespread disruptions of solemn funerals or other life-changing events it will be time not to pass a law, but to amend the Constitution.
Which state in this nation would vote against a Right to Dignity at Religious Observance Amendment to the U.S. Constitution? You tell me. Where do you live?
Not that I'm looking out for my own selfish interests here, but the above proposed Constitutional Amendment would also prohibit the rabid Christians who shout abuse at the Fairy Festival attendees. I see all silver cloud with no lining here! Please tell me if I'm wrong.
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," Pagan and patriotic since 2005! I'll venture a guess that there aren't many Druids in the Daughters of the American Revolution, but there are some. At least one. That's me. I pay my dues every year.
You all know that I have trouble linking, so if you want to read the editorial I'm going to rant about today, just biff on over to The Wild Hunt to get all the details.
A journalist for the Chicago Tribune has suggested that religious tolerance, particularly of minority religions like -- oh, let's just pick one -- WICCA, might have contributed to the violent shooting at Fort Hood. Never mind that the shooter was a Muslim, or that he was unbalanced. Fort Hood has a reputation for multi-faith tolerance. Our friend at the Chicago Tribune thinks such tolerance in the military is a big, bad idea:
“Fast forward to 1999, when an Austin, Texas newspaper published photos of a Wiccan ceremony at Fort Hood. Theologically conservative Christian clergy joined with indignant Congressmen to protest the Army’s acceptance of Wiccan practice. As reported in Hannah Rosin’s contemporaneous account for The Washington Post, these clergy threatened to disrupt the protests, going so far as to call on Christians not to enlist or reenlist in any branch of the military until Wicca was banned from military posts. But the Army brushed off the threatened protests. Again, according to the Washington Post article, Fort Hood spokesman Lt. Col. Ben Santos said at the time that as long as a religious minority does not interfere with discipline, the military will help it find an off-base leader and a place to practice its beliefs … in light of the fact that the Army and various government agencies appear to have disregarded warning signs about the shooter’s contact with religious radicals who have since praised his murders, a tragic irony bubbles to the surface: might the emphasis on religious inclusion and interfaith acceptance have allowed the sinister to walk, undaunted, disguised as the spiritual?"
(Jason at "The Wild Hunt" added the emphasis. And the italics. Now I can't turn off either. I stink at computers.)
We at "The Gods Are Bored," whether we can adjust font or not, do not approve of using religious beliefs as a qualifier for military service. First Amendment issues aside, this is just ridiculous. It's an all-volunteer military force these days. Are you going to turn people away because they're Wiccan?
I know this is an incredible reach, but go along with me for a minute. If an invading army is advancing upon New Jersey, bayonets fixed, I personally will not care if those defending me are Christians, Jews, Pagans, atheists, or Believers in Alien Abduction. Thank you, soldier, for defending me. May your deity or deities bless you.
And with no due respect to the Chicago Tribune editorialist, Tom Levinson, I would simply ask: Has there been a single case of Wiccan violence against fellow Christian soldiers in the history of the U.S. military? Hey, we know how much press that would get if it did happen. So it hasn't.
Patriotism is not solely the province of certain kinds of Christians. That's what is wonderful about America. You want an all-Christian military? Go dig up Richard the Lionheart and set him in charge again. Medieval mindset and all.
I'm Anne Johnson, N.S.D.A.R. 723499, and I approved this message.
You all know that I have trouble linking, so if you want to read the editorial I'm going to rant about today, just biff on over to The Wild Hunt to get all the details.
A journalist for the Chicago Tribune has suggested that religious tolerance, particularly of minority religions like -- oh, let's just pick one -- WICCA, might have contributed to the violent shooting at Fort Hood. Never mind that the shooter was a Muslim, or that he was unbalanced. Fort Hood has a reputation for multi-faith tolerance. Our friend at the Chicago Tribune thinks such tolerance in the military is a big, bad idea:
“Fast forward to 1999, when an Austin, Texas newspaper published photos of a Wiccan ceremony at Fort Hood. Theologically conservative Christian clergy joined with indignant Congressmen to protest the Army’s acceptance of Wiccan practice. As reported in Hannah Rosin’s contemporaneous account for The Washington Post, these clergy threatened to disrupt the protests, going so far as to call on Christians not to enlist or reenlist in any branch of the military until Wicca was banned from military posts. But the Army brushed off the threatened protests. Again, according to the Washington Post article, Fort Hood spokesman Lt. Col. Ben Santos said at the time that as long as a religious minority does not interfere with discipline, the military will help it find an off-base leader and a place to practice its beliefs … in light of the fact that the Army and various government agencies appear to have disregarded warning signs about the shooter’s contact with religious radicals who have since praised his murders, a tragic irony bubbles to the surface: might the emphasis on religious inclusion and interfaith acceptance have allowed the sinister to walk, undaunted, disguised as the spiritual?"
(Jason at "The Wild Hunt" added the emphasis. And the italics. Now I can't turn off either. I stink at computers.)
We at "The Gods Are Bored," whether we can adjust font or not, do not approve of using religious beliefs as a qualifier for military service. First Amendment issues aside, this is just ridiculous. It's an all-volunteer military force these days. Are you going to turn people away because they're Wiccan?
I know this is an incredible reach, but go along with me for a minute. If an invading army is advancing upon New Jersey, bayonets fixed, I personally will not care if those defending me are Christians, Jews, Pagans, atheists, or Believers in Alien Abduction. Thank you, soldier, for defending me. May your deity or deities bless you.
And with no due respect to the Chicago Tribune editorialist, Tom Levinson, I would simply ask: Has there been a single case of Wiccan violence against fellow Christian soldiers in the history of the U.S. military? Hey, we know how much press that would get if it did happen. So it hasn't.
Patriotism is not solely the province of certain kinds of Christians. That's what is wonderful about America. You want an all-Christian military? Go dig up Richard the Lionheart and set him in charge again. Medieval mindset and all.
I'm Anne Johnson, N.S.D.A.R. 723499, and I approved this message.
