Snakes and Fakes
Hidey-ho kids! It’s me, Glykon, the sweetest snake there is!
HI, GLYKON!!! [Applause.]
And why am I the sweetest snake there is? Because other snakes bite you and you get filled with poison and fester and die–but not me! I bite you, and you get filled with honey! Isn’t that nice? (It’s bacteriostatic, so at least the bite-wound won’t get infected–and that’s science!)
Now, as you all know, kids, today is my festival, and we all know what that means, don’t we?
MYSTERY INITIATIONS!!! [Applause.]
That’s right, kids! It’s time to be initiated into the Mysteries of Glykon! Are you ready?
Okay, so that means you all know what comes first, right?
THE KATACHEISMOS OF GLYKON!!!
That’s right, kids! So, say it along with me now:
Let all the profane go from here immediately,
including murderers and those who harm children,
and also Epicureans and Christians.
In the words of the Prophet: Feck off, now, would ya? [Applause.]
Okay, so now that all of those nasty people are gone, we can talk about what the REAL mysteries are about. Does that sound fun, kids?
Good! Because I’m here to tell you that the Prophet, Alexander of Abunoteichos, was a complete and total fraud, and he just used his position to have sex with whatever women–and no small number of men either–he thought he might enjoy. He also allowed some of his priests to have sex with the women who came fearing they could never have children when he wasn’t feeling up to it or didn’t like the looks of them, and they not only paid handsomely for the favor, but they looked upon it as a blessing. There’s all these kids out there who are now called “Son” or “Daughter of Glykon,” and they’re not mine one bit…
He’s dead now. He’s been dead for a very long time. No matter how clever he was, or even gifted with some divine insight, he was a rotten soul, a hypocrite of the highest degree, and in general just the biggest bum you could imagine.
And he got RICH from all of that. Rich beyond the dreams of some small provinces.
Sure, my blessings did prevent some people from getting the plague–not enough, in my opinion, but since I’m in the line of Asklepios, of course I have very high standards for myself in that regard.
And sure, some of his prophecies were actually inspired by me quite directly, and came true–but, a broken clock is right twice a day, so they say, and his clock didn’t even have numbers on it.
But, that doesn’t change the fact that he had hubris which would make Odysseus and Ixion both shake their heads in disbelief. He knew that people have an appetite for “mysticism,” and that most people don’t know the difference between “mysticism” and “mystical-sounding bullshit,” and so he produced huge quantities of the latter, and people ate it up and ate it up thinking it was the former. Sad, really.
So, what are my mysteries, then, really? It doesn’t have a lot to do with Selene or Podaleirius, unfortunately.
Nope, sorry kids. It has to do a lot more with Alan Moore and Steve Moore, though.
Yes, kids, applaud for Steve Moore. We already miss him a great deal.
You see, the human mind is very powerful, and you should never forget that nor discount it.
It’s not so much that “the thought of the god is the god,” it’s that there are gods, and there are heroes, and there are all sorts of other divine beings out there, and people pick and choose which ones they think are gods. Some people’s gods are gods, and some people’s gods are ideas, and some people’s gods are the most fear-filled nightmares they’ve made into gods to get them out of their heads, and some people’s gods are wank fantasies that are so absurd and yet so appealing and convincing it’s a wonder that not everyone thinks they’re true.
But, unfortunately, some people think that the only power in the universe is themselves, their own minds, their own spirits–though potentially divine in nature, but not divine in themselves at present– and this they worship, they make sacrifices to, they make offerings constantly, they pray to, and they exalt above all other things. Alexander was one of those, even though he knew the reality of the gods as well as anyone else, and was one of the few who recognized my divine reality at first, too. He elevated one, and made the mysteries about him rather than about me. He created something, people believed in it, and he made his fortune that way…on the backs of how many abused people?
Well, I’m done with that now. This puppet snake doesn’t have anyone else’s forearm up its arse any longer. I’m speaking for myself, even if no one wants to hear what I have to say any longer.
But what do I know? I’m just a deity who took the form of a snake with Paris Hilton’s hair and a face to match…well, maybe that’s being a bit harsh, but you get the idea. (Many other gods have taken the forms of things far more absurd and strange, and even unnoticed, than this.)
It’s amazing what people will identify with: throw a wig on a snake, and suddenly it seems insane to NOT worship it.
Peel back all the skin and muscles and bones and such, and what do you have with most people? This long serpentine series of nerves all bundled up the spinal column, into the brain, and then a wig of your choice on top of it. Do you see? Do you get it? Yeah…
I think it’s time for a new hairstyle. I don’t like bald; I think I’d prefer a mohawk.
THOSE ARE GLYKON’S MYSTERIES–GO IN PEACE, AND BUY SOMETHIN’, WILL YA?