Great Mother Of All Things
Mood: Comfotable
Listening to: Daniel O'Donnel
Hello, I'm Dana, Great Mother of All T'ings and supreme deity in the Celtic pant'eon. No need te git down on yer knees, us Irish Gods don't stand on ceremony. Now I'm just filling in for my boy Dagda while he's so busy and all, see his wife, Boyne, - she's only a demigod, sort of like de Virgin Mary only married proper. I am a single mother meself, but I made my boy do the right t'ing, I sez if you've stuck one in the oven meladdie, you'll fecking well stand by that girl and do the right t'ing. But even if wer gave her immortality, she's not really part o' the family business. Anyways, I notice some of yez have been bad mout'in Dagda and sayin' he's not a proper God and all, bunch o' gobshites that ye are. Not you Jamiryn, even if you did call him pussy arse. (Now its true he has a bit of a hairy ould arse on him an' if you painted a black dot at de top of his crack, and green eyes on each side and then a couple of little pointy ears on eithr hip his end would look like that catrtoon cat so it would.) At least Jamiryn you speak out where we can all read it, no sneaking around sendin' pers'nal messages in secret like some people. The others should be ashamed o' taking advantage while Dagda is trying to stave off global catastrophe in t'ree places at once. I'll yell yez about my boy shall I? When he first come to Ireland his bollocks had hardly dropped yet, what happens but as soon as he sets foot on the shore. Finn McCool and a gang o' Fenian t'ugs, dey're giants right so, a bunch of ugly bastards too, all wi' shaved heids, rotten teet' one eyebrow between the whole bunch of 'em and breat' that would strip paint of a Volkswagen. So Dagda, hardly more'n a child remember, he takes a club made out of a full growed Oak tree and he' setting about them culchie bastards and he's beatin' eight colours o' crap out of them. Now there's only seven colours o' crap known to mortal science so dat proves he's a proper god, coz wid a god anything is possible. Right so. Now Dagda started dis blog to help you poor ol' Christians out because you are terrible confused, so you are. I mean what kind of eejits would call their deity "God." Its not even a proper word, never mind a proper name for a God. There's conventions to be observed in de namin o' gods and all. I'll explain later because now I'm away for a swallae o ' tea while I soak my poor feet in de River Shannon. Ghost Girl and Shellbug, now youse pop round for a drop o' the rare ould stuff sometime, friends are always welcome. The rest, I'll be seein' youse whether you want to see me or not.
