How Things Rolled
In the beginning the gods spoke in yellow and black thunderbolts, the shape of exclamation marks. The utterances were guttural and absolute. But even the gods can make a mistake. Sometimes, one of the rookie undergods would misjudge a thunderbolt and it would hit the earth too hard, bending and bouncing back like a question-mark.
This is what happened when a young, intern god, fresh out of god polytechnic and working on Mammals Of The Australian Subcontinent, accidentally created the duck-billed platypus. “?” resounded the platypus into the earthly realm, and all who saw it wondered.
There were red-faces all around at Celestine College – the Harvard of god universities – when one of their graduates threw a thunderbolt so badly it bounced into the world of men, ricocheting off some hard-nosed pastors and contorted into a shape roughly resembling the word F*%k! They called this creation a “Sarah Palin” and, after a few strings were pulled, it was decided that they would pack her quietly off to Alaska and the matter would be forgotten.
Her creator,the blundering, cocky young god, Hubristrus, was given the job of designing what would become known collectively The Financial Instruments Of Wall Street. (While the gods love to be known for operating in the decisive active voice, of course, all the really important decisions are carried out in the passive voice by some unnamed and therefore blameless agent: mistakes were made; Hubristrus was given a job; religion was invented. The Committee for More Transparent Godding has made no headway against the Passive Voice in its whole 7 trillion years of existence.) But Hubristrus had never really studied much at Celestine, and his thunderbolts, always thrown much too hard, were tortuously twisty, loop-holed and hideously convoluted. As we know.
Anyway, Hubristrus did very well and retired super-early to The Hallows which is a bit like the Hamptons but, you know, a lot more marvellous, obviously. Better roads. And of course there are colourful local angels, who’re like super quaint and authentic and everything but never smelly or offensive.
A few months ago, however, Hubristrus, was out strolling in his Hallowed garden, idly pulling the wings off fairies and just enjoying Eternity, when a Postangel named Pete flew by with a brown, official-looking envelope. Doffing his halo in charming Olde Heavene deference, the fellow winked, “Looks loike ‘at could be roight impawrtant, yer Smashingness!” (He winked this in a West Country English accent.) “Ah well, Oi cahn’t be lingering, gorra get bahck t’the missus, keep them roses in ‘er cheeks, loike, hohoho!” And with an earthy, rustic wink he headed back towards town.
Hubristrus, because of his name, dismissed the mildly annoying old angel from his mind almost immediately, and the envelope too because brown was not pleasing to him that day. In fact, it was only Sunday morning just past that he remembered it, prompted by news of Pete and his wife being flung into Hell, for some heavenly infraction involving hot nectar, improper use of a cloud and the having of altogether too much fun for Heaven.
Hubristrus opened the letter and discovered he is being pressed back into service by order of the Big Guy Himself, his signature ,”Alf”, scorched right there into the official Gold House Paper. Sarah Palin has somehow returned, the letter said. And Wall Street’s rampant greed and mismanagement has created a financial meltdown.
“Holy shit!” thought Hubristrus, genuinely surprised, an uncomfortable prickle of responsibility needling him for the first time ever. It seems that many of the Gods had preferred the deregulated atmosphere of the US to Heaven’s own markets and now all of Paradise is worried about their 401ks.
I can’t tell you any more details but I can tell you “Heaven Today” is reporting that the solution to Iraq, disastrous climate change and the world-wide financial crisis, etc. require solutions so bendy and contorted that the gods just can’t come up with a thunderbolt in those shapes. In a last ditch attempt they are throwing their biggest bungle-making fuck-ups at the problem in the hope that their disastrous – and therefore hopefully successful – attempt at a curative thunderbolt will result in so very twisty-assed an exclamation mark that it just might (cross-fingers!) perfectly align with the problem and neutralize it.
In case you’re wondering how I came to be privy to this other-worldy information, it is because of the generously oiled annual studio artists tour of Ojai I went to on saturday. The following day, I was so close to death, the angels dropped off a copy of Heaven Today’s Sunday edition, thinking I was a done deal and it was only a matter of time before I’d be needing a reliable daily paper in the afterworld so might as well get in a bit of early marketing.
October 14th, 2008 at 11:16 am
I don’t suppose Heaven Today mentioned the forthcoming lottery numbers by any chance?
October 14th, 2008 at 11:16 am
That’s exactly how it happened. Just as I dreamed. And people laughed. Oh, how they laughed. And made their “Sneezy the gobshite faces”.
Well now I have written proof. Now they will believe in Hubristrus. All of them. Not just the Oven Chip voters.
October 14th, 2008 at 11:30 am
Kim, you need to get in line at the Prayer Department for that sort of information. Tell the gods how super they are again. But if you haven’t got a laudatory prayer to show ‘em, you haven’t got a prayer, mate. You aren’t even allowed in line for the lottery numbers. If it’s earthly riches you’re after though, you might want to check out the Soul Selling Department in the basement.
Sneezy, to some, to The Chosen, the knowledge is given. Ignore their jeers and their faces which can communicate complete sentences (i’m going to spend this week learnign how to do that, btw, that’s a fab ability). They underestimate the dangerous power of Hubristrus at their peril, or pearl, as the say over here. Whatever. They underestimate him. With him in charge, McPalin is in the White House. Hubristrus must be fought!
October 14th, 2008 at 12:46 pm
At first, it seemed that a bit of a coup was performed, but dear Lord, the heartbeat thing is just frightening. But it is true that the immortals were having a bit of fun that day. And if they do not win, whoever designed those glasses had better have the CV ready.
October 14th, 2008 at 1:03 pm
I wonder which of those Gods made Cheney?
October 14th, 2008 at 2:16 pm
Vincent, there’s a whole new thing out here, among some Republican women, called palin-chic. They’re all buying boots and glasses just like her’s. I don’t know why people insist on being that bonkers, bit it’s so.
Bock, that fallen one. Whatzizname. Satan Himself.
October 15th, 2008 at 3:05 am
‘altogether too much fun for Heaven.’
Puleeze! I can’t take more disillusion.
I saw a DB Platypus whilst on safari in Queensland. Sadly I forgot my promise to keep mum at all times, squealed and it vanished.
October 15th, 2008 at 7:04 am
I will freely say, she is a dangerous bint, as her namesake said. Watery tart; Well holy hell, next we will have some tit finding the holy grail in Idaho. But what really bites my arse, is that the grandees of the democrats went into civil war in public, without first arranging the result. And since then, I’ve hoped that the rep’ could do something by way of education, but no, nothing. Expect another eight years, and if that woman can be educated, twelve. Your little ones should be voting by then. Until, the dems’ decide to grow up and recognise that politics is a managed affair, where leaders say something and the rest shut the hell up. But then I think, even with those who admire her, the question to ask is do you want Palin as POTUS. And if the dems’ have a brain cell between them, that is now THE question. A well made ad’ with a heartbeat on the soundtrack, or just a blank screen with the beat should do it.
October 15th, 2008 at 8:38 am
Pat, oh yeah! i’d forgotten you’d been to Australia. I wanna go one of these days when the world isn’t buckling under the burden of massive financial meltdown.
Vincent, “where leaders say something and the rest shut the hell up.” I disagree a bit with that. Toeing the party line in British politics doesn’t always translate to what’s best for the people and, in Canada, people are just sick to the back teeth of yes men. Much better that individuals should feel free to express their reservations, I think – it makes for a more open party, cuts out some of that smoke-filled-room deals-with-the-devil stuff.
October 15th, 2008 at 2:39 pm
and tonight’s the last debate! i had this dream that senator mc cain totally lost it on stage and tried to punch out senator obama who, of course, out of deference and agility sidestepped the blow and let mc cain look like a punch drunk ex-fighter and surely, like the sad hollow shell of the man he once was….or maybe it was just indigestion! great fable, sugar! ) xoxo
October 15th, 2008 at 4:06 pm
The man he once was, I’m afraid, was also a bit sad and hollow.
October 15th, 2008 at 10:28 pm
Now we know who is to blame for her — and the platypus. The platypus is fascinating and rather unassuming in a sweet, though admittedly poisonous (in the male’s case) way. Sarah Palin isn’t anywhere near as endearing — and potentially a lot more lethal.
Lovely writing, as usual. Why aren’t you published? You really ought to be.
October 16th, 2008 at 6:14 am
At least the duck-billed platypus is cute… I’d feel pretty proud if I’d invented one of them. If I were Hubistrus, I’d be burning with shame…
Great post, Sam. I tried to post earlier but had blogging difficulties — hope it works this time!
October 16th, 2008 at 8:46 am
Sav, he was a bit crazy-eyed looking at times last night, wasn’t he? I know he was trying to come out swinging but he just looked, I have to say it, erratic.
Bock, I respected him once upon a time. I was idiot enough to think he’d keep the tone of his campaign out of the sewer. I admired his bipartisan work on the McCain-Feingold campaign finance reform bill; his pushing for the 9-11 Commission; and going against party lines with his initial stance on torture which he’s since backed off from. What a mammoth disappointment he’s been. I indulge in no schadenfroide by saying that. It’s genuinely sad what’s happened to John McCain. What the sniff of power can do, eh.
Mary, with any luck at all, come the inauguration, Sarah Palin will just be a curiosity in our political past and we can forget all about her insane candidacy. Are you going to be able to vote way over there? Apparently a lot of people have already voted by postal ballot, even people resident in the US.
A Polish friend was telling me that three days before their elections there is a ban on all campaigning so that people can digest what they’ve heard in the prior months and not be harangued by advertising right up til the last moment. Sounds like a good idea to me.
October 16th, 2008 at 1:21 pm
You’ll have to forgive me, I’m still back there with the boots and glasses.
October 16th, 2008 at 3:59 pm
You were ‘oiled’ in Ojai? Phwooaar!
I keep up with American politics, whatever impression my blog might give, and I’m one hundred per cent behind Governor Dukakis.
October 16th, 2008 at 4:20 pm
Eolai, you wouldn’t be the first to linger. Her winking is responsible for the biggest collective Republican stiffy since the Reagan years. It is embarrassing to watch the men on Fox News when they’re “analyzing” her speeches. They go all gooey.
Foots! Our own prodigal son! You have returned to the fold! You have returned, haven’t you? Smashing to see you doing the rounds again, Pops. Come! I shall slay the fatted calf and you shall have vittles. Vittles and gin! And we shall speak of old times and I will ask if you’re sleeping through the night yet. And of course, out of politeness and a certain macabre curiosity I shall inquire after your basement experiments.
October 16th, 2008 at 4:31 pm
Not that keen on gin but I’ll take a wee Laphroaig. Ta very much. Yes, the three of us sleep through the night, blissfully and amazingly; thanks for asking. She’s a little jewel.
And there are no and never were any ‘basement experiments’, as was proved conclusively in court.
October 16th, 2008 at 4:43 pm
There’s a three-headed ferret with moustaches and a gaping hole in the ground somewhere in the Greater London area that says different, Foots, but I’m happy not to drag the whole sordid mess up again. Just keep an eye out for Panorama vans, eh? You don’t want to have to move the family again.
I bet she is the most perfect wee jewel. Give her a wee hug from her virtual auntie Sam!
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