Dead Air Church: Deity meeting, part one

Left: Buddha statue at DIVINE CONNECTION, Black Mountain, NC.





SETTING: The various major deities, saints, and other characters in Daisy's personal theology/head/belief system/etc, have decided that they should have a meeting to discuss possible layoffs and related employment issues stemming from Daisy's ongoing theological crisis.

~*~



Our Head Deity, The Blessed Mother, calls the meeting to order, and first says the Amina Christi.

Immediately, there is dissension. St Francis asks if it is appropriate, under the circumstances. Buddha rolls his eyes, but says nothing.

Blessed Mother (herein known as Maria): I beg your pardon!? (narrows eyes) *I* am in charge here! I'll say whichever prayer I please, thanks.

St Gertrude: (smugly) You'd better SHUT UP, Francis!

Francis (seemingly allowed to do anything he wants) starts singing Grateful Dead songs: Just a box of raaaainnn, I don't know who put it there...

As if summoned, Jerry Garcia enters the meeting-place, and nods at Maria and Buddha, "Hey!" he says, good-naturedly.

St Gertrude: (eyeing Jerry suspiciously) And when did YOU get out of purgatory? I don't remember signing the transfer order!

Jerry shrugs, lights joint, passes it to St Francis, who inhales deeply. They shake hands in some odd familiar way; they are obviously old friends.

St Francis: Look, me and St Stephen sprung Jerry, okay? It was a long while back and I didn't see any reason to argue with you about it.

St Gertrude: (eyes flash disturbingly) I see. (glares at the two of them) I should have known! (mutters to herself, obviously angry)

Jerry passes joint to St Gertrude, who declines with a flourish: None for ME, danke schön.

St Francis (to Jerry): She runs purgatory, which is a really shitty job. She is always in a bad mood. (pauses, exhales) They needed a German to do it.

Jerry: Well, that makes sense.

Maria: CALLING THE MEETING TO ORDER, lets settle down, peeps! (cheerfully ignores pot smoke) Is anyone else coming? Buddha? Any of your fellas? Who is this---Shanti--what?

Shantideva enters the room, does not look at anyone but Buddha.

Buddha: My friend from the 8th century, Shantideva!

The meeting-room inhabitants look Shantideva up and down, in a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

St Francis: So why is HE the big shit all of a sudden?

Maria: (sighs) I only work here.

Buddha: He has answers to her questions, Francis. Now, come on, you know the drill. You were the big shit once. Daisy still adores you, so learn to share. (rolls eyes again) Honestly, I expected more from you, Francis.

St Francis: (chastened and defensive) I just wondered. (addresses Maria) And how come you always get to stay in charge, no matter what shake-ups happen in management?

Maria: Daisy and I go way back, further than the rest of you. (primly) And besides that, I always ANSWER HER PROMPTLY. (looks at Shantideva) And in... may I say it?... understandable language!

Shantideva: (stoically) She is ready to move on. She needs more than the Christian tradition can provide.

Maria: Oh, well, aren't WE special?!? (sniffs in superior fashion) Actually, I am also the High Priestess of the Tarot, Saraswati, Guanyin, Isis, Spider Grandmother and closely related to Maya, Buddha's mother; as you can see, our names are almost the same. Maria is merely my most recent, Latin name. I cover a LOT of ground. (to Buddha) Isn't that right, Siddhartha?

Buddha: (sighs) I'm afraid so.

Shantideva: (thoughtful) Oh well, in that case... I had no idea. (smiles at Maria, then bows deeply)

Maria smiles beneficently.


At this juncture, a conservative-appearing, slightly-spooked New Englander with a bow-tie enters, looks around nervously and sits, uncomfortably.

Maria: HOWARD! I am so glad to see you! It's been ages.

Howard: Oh well, you know how it is... (mumbles)

St Francis: Oh, not HIM again. He gives me the major creeps.

Jerry: Who is that guy?

Maria introduces Howard Phillips Lovecraft to the group. Buddha keeps his distance. Shantideva appears fascinated.

Howard: Sorry to be late. (takes out notepad) What did I miss?

St Francis: Where is JG Ballard? Now, him, I could get along with!

St Gertrude: Ballard will be in purgatory for QUITE A WHILE! (sneers for emphasis) It will take longer than a couple of Earth-years to get him out of there!

Howard suddenly recognizes St Gertrude, lets out a scared squeak.

St Gertrude: You disgusting, ungrateful, repellent, sick-ass little WORM! (torrent of Teutonic invective follows)

Maria: Gertie, careful, he served his time! Go easy on him! (unrecognizable cuss words, probably Middle German, flow unbidden from the mouth of St Gertrude) Gertie! Easy!

St Gertrude stands up, dramatically: You know, this is serious business! We may be out of a job, here! THOSE TWO! (points accusingly at Buddha and Shantideva) They are going to mess up OUR JOBS! They are DISPLACING US!

St Francis: Nah, not me, my job is safe. Like Maria says, me and Daisy go way back. Remember that time I called in that miracle and told her that her kid was safe? That was great magic, no? (chuckles proudly) She told everybody about it.

Maria: (indulgently) Yes, Francis, we know... you and Daisy have talked about it hundreds of times...

St Francis: Well, it was some of my BEST WORK.

Jerry: (nods vigorously) The really good part was when Daisy's customer asked her about the prayer of St Francis, so Daisy KNEW the miracle was straight from YOU ... dude! That was some awesome shit! It was like the icing on the cake of the miracle, just in case there was ANY doubt. (Jerry high-fives St Francis) Freaking awesome! (takes out second joint, lights it, passes joint to St Francis)

St Francis beams in satisfaction: Yeah, that last part was a nice touch. Daisy appreciates that stuff. (inhales deeply, passes to Howard, who pauses... then, looking fearfully at St Gertrude, inhales and coughs)

St Gertrude, glaring at Howard: You are responsible for most of Daisy's nihilism, you know! You and Ballard! I intend to SQUEEZE Ballard for that.

Howard pales, gulps, visibly quivers, brushes invisible dust off his black suit.

Jerry: (smiles beatifically from cannabis intake) Lighten up, Gertie!

St Gertrude: (livid) SHUT UP! (points at Jerry) YOU are the reason she picked up THAT--- (points at joint) after abstaining for 23 years! You should be ashamed of yourself!

Jerry: Me? What? I just play music, okay?

St Gertrude sputters in righteous indignation, once again lapsing into Middle German. James Dean enters, dressed exactly as he was when he struck oil in GIANT.

Shantideva: Wow, cool. I had no idea HE was gonna be here.

James Dean: How's it going? (waves at Buddha) Wow, its been awhile!

Buddha: Hasn't it? (the two embrace warmly)

And finally, St Jude and Elizabeth Taylor enter; Liz gives note to Maria from Jimi Hendrix, explaining that he couldn't make it. Liz immediately asks if there is caviar.

Shantideva: (visibly shaken) I thought this was a VEGAN meeting?

Liz: Ohhh, sorry! (giggles) No cheese either?! But DAISY--?!

Maria: Yes, Liz, I know... Daisy loves cheese, but we are being polite for the sake of Shantideva.

St Francis: (rolling eyes heavenward) Who is THE BIG SHIT with Daisy right now.

Liz (covers mouth in her famous naughty-little-girl manner, notably used to excellent effect in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf): Uh-oh! Somebody is jealous! (giggles again) Is there any... wait, no alcohol, right?

All meeting participants shake their heads in unison. St Gertrude is suddenly indignant again and snaps at Elizabeth: I can't believe you don't KNOW this stuff!

Liz: Excuse me, ladies, but I go to a lot of these things, you know? Just like Jerry does. (waves at Jerry) It's hard to keep up.

St Gertrude: You should have stayed in purgatory LONGER, but like HIM (points at Jerry), you had friends in high places to spring you early. (glares at Liz)

Liz: (winks at Gertrude) Deal with it, sister! (sits beside St Jude, who appears to be an old friend) I paid my dues!

St Jude: Yea, O dearest Gertrude, verily I say unto you, she hath paid the ransom.

St Gertrude: Oh so now you are going to go all King James on my ass?

Maria: ORDER PLEASE! Let's try to get along!

St Gertrude: That's easy to say when your job isn't in jeopardy!

Buddha: Oh--stop being so histrionic, Gertie. That melodrama might work on those desperate burning souls in purgatory, er, uh, I mean samsara, but it doesn't go over so well with the rest of us.

Howard nods emphatically.

Liz: Purgatory is a DUMP, I couldn't WAIT to get out of there.

James Dean: I'd have to agree with you on that.

Liz: Jimmy! (squeals delightedly) Haven't seen you since we filmed GIANT! (the two hug and start a long catch-up session, as the other deities start chatting with each other.)

Maria sighs, and realizes this meeting has been mostly a waste. Too much socializing.

AND she will have to manage Gertrude better next time.

~*~

And so, our very first DEAD AIR Deity meeting gets off to a rocky start. Thus, we will have to revisit our deities at a later date.

This post was inspired in part by the good Doctor Jay's post. Thanks for inspiring me to write about these things, instead of simply wringing my hands over them.

Friday musings from beyond

Hey there boyz and girls! Your humble narrator, wrestling with an enormous metal shelf wedged into the wall, succeeded in banging herself on the head with said metal shelf, thereby imitating some of her favorite cartoon characters (see left). I saw stars, stars in the sky, stars all around. But I got it OUT, she cackled dementedly; the main thing is to not let these stubborn inanimate objects get the better of you!

There is a big BUMP on my head, luckily covered up by bangs. (See, bangs not only cover forehead wrinkles, they also cover histories of battles with stubborn metal shelves.)

What you should read while my head recovers:

Fabulous Kay Olson (who I wish would go back to blogging) posted the following dynamite AlterNet link on Facebook: Ayn Rand, Hugely Popular Author and Inspiration to Right-Wing Leaders, Was a Big Admirer of Serial Killer. OMG, really?!? Subtitled: Her works are treated as gospel by right-wing powerhouses like Alan Greenspan and Clarence Thomas, but Ayn Rand found early inspiration in 1920's murderer William Hickman. (Daisy's sub-subtitle: Are you surprised?)

As regular readers know, I avoid the name of Ayn Rand like the plague, or rather, like any discussion of the 2nd Amendment, which brings the various Black Helicopter Factions out of the woodwork. Here at DEAD AIR, I usually refer to her by her given birth-name (she named herself after a typewriter; well, of COURSE she did): Alisa Rosenbaum. This has so far fooled the search engines. (NOTE: The Randoids are now officially denying the typewriter story... wonder if they will also try to creatively spin her crush on the serial killer?) But now? This post? Open season. I have thus posted this on my day off, so I can babysit the thread and fend off attacks from Free Marketers Run Berserk (henceforth referred to as FMRB) and other assorted True Believers from the Randoid Camp.

I hope FMRB fully understand that they will contract all manner of socialist cooties if they come here! (takes out bright red cootie larvae and sprinkles protectively all over blog) But as is true of the gun-freaks, I don't think they care.

Imagine the varieties of ideological cooties they must have already.

In any event, that is some great reading.

~*~

Why I Love Blogging Dept:

I met the illustrator of the Lovecraft Tarot! Daryl Hutchinson, artist extraordinaire, contacted me about what I wrote here and thanked me for the compliments. We chatted on Facebook and I discovered he works less than a mile from where I do! (Cue up "It's a small world after all"; I must say, all manner of cool people live in Upstate South Carolina these days, she marveled.) He gave me some SIGNED PRINTS of his Lovecraft deck, including the one at left, Major Arcana #12.

In the traditional deck, #12 is the Hanged Man. In the Lovecraft deck, #12 is represented by the character of Crawford Tillinghast, protagonist of the famous HP Lovecraft story, From Beyond.

I'm hanging them up in my future fancy Tarot digs... which I will someday have as an old hillbilly/hippie woman giving tarot readings in a spooky, drafty old storefront (preferably in some refurbished warehouse district someplace). It will have cool old tapestries and pillows and beads and rugs and scarves hanging everywhere. And posters, like this one... and now, I have signed Lovecraft tarot prints!

It was great to meet you, Daryl, and hope you will take my suggestion about Dragon*Con. Your work is beautiful!

Stuff I like

:: Natural Factors chewable Vitamin C. The Boysenberry makes me happiest!

:: Sounds True meditation music, especially the kundalini meditations.

:: The HP Lovecraft Tarot, which I want in the worst way, but not enough to spend $1000 for it (new), or even $350 (used). (I hope Cthulhu won't take it personally; it's never a good thing to be on his bad side.)

:: My surrogate son, South Carolina Boy, writes very personally about familial stress, shifting identities and transition: A Real Trans Person and Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth.

:: Masada bagels, particularly the Everything bagel and the Cinnamon Raisin! mmmmm

:: Theraneem products, which cured my eczema. I can't recommend them highly enough, for any troublesome skin issue you might have.

:: URBAN FARM, a magazine almost as much fun as Mary Jane's Farm. (Our local equivalent is from Hendersonville, NC: Back Home.)

:: BeeWell Honey, from Pickens County, SC. Besides scrumptious wildflower honey, the best thing in Pickens County is Glassy Mountain. (NOTE: This is not to be confused with Glassy Mountain in Greenville County, which was once stunningly beautiful, but now totally ruined by rich people, golfers and enormous McMansions; Kevin Costner and Tiger Woods are frequent visitors and investors.)

:: Barbara Lynn, known as the Queen of Gulf Coast Blues and Soul.

~*~

You'll lose a good thing - Barbara Lynn (1962)