Monday, September 29, 2014

Winterpegers, I am your Lord Musum. Have Fear. Have great fear


Oh you contemptuous Winterpegers. Behold your god! You are bad people, ignoring me. Your media criers don't give a rat's behind about the magnanimity I bestowed upon you when I came to your mosquito ravaged megalopolis to instill my splendour in your newfangled ziggurat.

I don't trust the underpinnings of this pile of rock and steel though. Building a monument to last for millennia on the mud of 7000 floods? You guys got lots to learn. You think that the little ditch that Duff built is going to save your fancy chancy architecture from those yearly once in a millennium floods come the great warming and all?

You build it, we will come, us gods, nonetheless. I chanced to be cruising about with the emanation of Justin the Bieber, listening to some girly tunes, when low and behold we happened upon your ziggurat, pinnacle in the heavens. Well, gracious me, gods can not pass up opportunities like this. A ziggurat in the 21st century CE. What a sweet surprise. A home for a god. But in mosquito heaven? Well, I packed up my bags and said a hasty farewell to my chums and off I stole in the middle of the night to slap the claims on your neat establishment as a godly ghost, forever to wander it's great halls and play havoc with your super screens. And this plastic remote is really neat compared with my normal crooked staff.

Oh chemical man, gods laugh at your own undoings. You have etched joy into the hearts of us more wicked types. Nanna is up to his armpits in nostalgia for the good old days when chariots with torches of fire where the worst he had to deal with in his bid to tame mankind. And these humane rights you have chiseled by my rostrum here: everyone is entitled to live once they are created and everyone is entitled to do anything they want to so long as it doesn't conflict with the above. Ya, right. You were created to indulge the gods, nothing more and nothing less.

People! Please! Do you not know that gods must be honoured, cajoled, appeased, humoured? Your culture must be enlightened. If you wish to build a ziggurat, you will attract a god. And you must provide him with food and drink and song and lewd dance or there will be trouble! Your science knows twat about the intricacies of the etherverse.

Now, as starters, I am going to provide you with some subliminal messages on these vast surround screens. As your school children file through these capacious halls I will subject them to an assortment of hints and prods to get them all shamelessly singing and dancing for my amusement. For the more nocturnal sort it's dreadfully easy to unwittingly trigger those hormones with a few flicks to get the party rolling. A little feast and some good booze and the unrestrained lasciviousness will quench my desires. We'll get this scene arockin.

When I am imbued with the terrifying splendour of royalty, your Lord Musum shining like the sun, when I am allowed to perfectly wield my august divine powers, the great divine powers, when I am cloaked as if with a mantle in the great awesomeness of royalty - then I will come forth in brilliance like the shining moon soliciting on your behalf with the Bart of Heaven for protection from the yearly floods and hoards of ensuing mosquitoes.

Till you honour me with your thoughts and prayers and above all the lewd dance, oh peoples of Winterpeg, be very, very afraid. Pestilence from every critter and scourge of nature will ravage your lives until you come crawling up the ramparts of my ziggurat, prostrating yourselves before my resplendency. Have fear, have great fear.
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