Ares and Friends?

I haven't talked much about my divine pals recently, largely because I've been hiding from them. There was this little incident at a cocktail party on Olympus having to do with snakes and underpants, and I'm not popular these days. But Ares dropped by. Did I tell you that he is still HAWT! And thick as a board.

I made the mistake of telling him all my blogging woes, especially my current frustration that silly right-wingers get things published in the New York Times and I can't even get an answer to the angry and educational e-mails I send them. Ares offered to toss a few thunderbolts on the newspaper's headquarters which I nixed.

Talking about blogging with him was a humongous mistake, because he suddenly decided that what this world needs is a Greek guygod blogger called Ares, and that the cushiest way of getting there would be for him to co-blog with me. With me. On my blog. Which would be renamed "Ares and Friends".

I made excuses. My blog was too puny for his greatness, too wimpy, too snakey. He waved them all aside (with most of my good china on the dining-room table), he would fix all these problems, he would insert the sorely needed humorous and upbeat element, he would post lots of pictures of naked women with Ares in action, he would become a billionaire and so on. He would write long posts on baseball (about which he knows nothing).

There was only one thing to do. I told him about the war in Iraq and urged him to go and see George Bush for an advice-giving session. It almost worked, but he's still sleeping off the nectar in my spare bedroom.