Sat, 15 May 2004
how does one go about marrying a god and becoming a temple prostitute in this country and age?
Dear Tricks Are For Kali,
Listen lady, I gave you a chance... You're the one who said you didn't want to take the physical. And then called the cops.
Do you know how difficult it is to create an atmosphere of trust and relaxation with an officer of the law while wearing naught but a laurel wreath and a paisley lab coat with peyote buttons? Waving the Wonder Wand about seems, impossibly, to make those people even less open to reason.
Luckily, Mister Dark soon arrived with the Cup of Holy Lubricant, an angry kitten wearing a birthday hat, and a pair of skis, so... wait a second. Sorry, my mistake. That couldn't have been you, because I now recall that Johnny Depp was there. Which means it was actually just one of those dreams I have on hot nights after playing 18 rounds of "Voyage to the Bottom of the White Russians."
It's tough to be a Temple Prostitute in an age when everyone else seems to want to be a Bank Whore. And, quite frankly, most of the gods I know already have wives more jealous than Steven Spielberg at a Hobbit orgy. Hard to get a yoni in edgewise.
Have you considered marrying a goddess? Times being what they are and all. I hear Dixichitlan of the Aztecs could use some "support." She's a triple-goddess, you know. It's a moon thing.
The secret of it all is, of course, to marry yourself. But don't go blind. Oedipus says that's a bitch.