News from the Olympus

I visited my divine pals on the old home mountain. I partied a little, went to a cocktail bash held by some naiads (they had a wet bar) and met a few interesting monsters. After all that I have decided to go on a diet: no more than one wingnut is going to be devoured per week. By me. It's my New Year's Promise.

If the above paragraph makes no sense to you, be content. You don't want to know about the monsters and how they tasted. They had been on some weird diet themselves, Atkins or some such. All lard. Ugh.

Back to the party news: Ares is back in circulation, having been released by the succubi who snared him at Nascar races in Tennessee. He thought that they were Bible-reading wingnut ladies, in for the ride of their lives with him, and perhaps they were. But it was poor Ares who got ridden... He is so modest these days, the poor boy, though he still dreams about converting George Bush to Ares-worshipping. George loves illogical and poorly planned wars so I can see Ares's point.

Ares's droopiness ruined my tentative plans of re-igniting our little flame, and I ended up mostly circulating and picking up gossip about various divinities. Did you know that Thor has been spotted amongst the mortals? He is half-crazed and not very visible, but the neo-Nazis have worshipped him enough to make him almost-materialize. That is how making gods and goddesses work: if enough people believe in us we become real. Except for me. In my case it is the snakes that keep me going, and there has been no snake Enlightenment so I should be safe for a few more millennia. Safe from evaporating. That is what happens to dead gods. And whatever evil tongues say that son of a goat, Zeus, is still evaporated. May he stay so.

Other than that it was godly life as usual. Aphrodite had a new boyfriend she was dragging along. The poor guy needed some sleep, desperately, but he was dying of fatigue with a smile on his face. Athena has applied for a job with the Hudson Institute, a wingnut think-tank. A daddy's girl to the last breath, our Athena. But she won't qualify because she hasn't written any books that smear feminists and she hasn't broken the law like Scooter Libby. So I nailed a nice smile on my lips and listened to her ramblings about her great future career as the head of the Independent Women's Forum (google it), and I nodded and I urged her on. It was fun.