The Greek God of Damn-it!
Greetings, minions and disciples, one and all! As the Center of the Universe, I am by definition known to all that are known, and if I don't know you, or of you, then you do not exist. One of the exalted I have come to know from the Great Green Recliner is the man known as the Greek God of Damn-it!
Although his powers are limited to merely adding that vital exclamation point of disgust whenever something goes awry, his reach is universal. This god's roots are deep in the rocky soil of ancient Greece herself, and have touched the great minds of Aristotle and Plato in their moments of angst. Einstein and Newton have known his touch when faced with dead-ends at the chalk board. Patton and Rommell each shouted his epithet over the roar of tanks engaged in battle. As has McEnroe and Waltrip, in their respective sports, when things didn't go their way.
Men the world over, through-out time, have shouted the Greek God of Damn-it's curse, in whatever language they tongue, when the need has arose. Many a righteous man has condemned those who speak his word, although they themselves have known it on their own tongues. The exclamation has been around longer than the recorded language of man itself. When the first Neanderthal stepped from his cave and was promptly run down by a passing mastodon, the guttural cry was smashed from his lungs in a single blast of resignation. We've all been there in one form or another since, haven't we my minions?
Even today, whether the news is good or bad, someone shouts a hardy "Damn-it!". No matter what, someone somewhere looses, and this exclaimed vocalization is their first means of expressing their grief. And if it wasn't for the Greek God of Damn-it, none of us would have this convenient tool at our disposal, day-in and day-out, to relieve or stress in the safest manner possible.
This Greek God of Damn-it and I have partaken of the finest feasts of fowl over the years, particularly of the Buffaloed variety, accompanied by a variety of others of our meager level of existence. These feasts usually degenerate into a kind of weekly jabber-fest where nearly every rule of etiquette for public correctness gets humiliated, violated, sodomized, and devastated. And this is without a single beer in sight! Then again, I am the Center of the Universe, and with me in attendance who would dare challenge our right to dine in sauce-splashing bravado?
The Greek God of Damn-it is The Edge to my Bono, some have said. He is a quiet, stead-fast, workaholic to my outlandish, outspoken, fool-hardiness.
So, my friends, the next time you find these simple words released from your lips, give a silent word of thanks to the Greek God of Damn-it for his contribution to our Universe.
I am the Center of the Universe.
Have a great day!
Although his powers are limited to merely adding that vital exclamation point of disgust whenever something goes awry, his reach is universal. This god's roots are deep in the rocky soil of ancient Greece herself, and have touched the great minds of Aristotle and Plato in their moments of angst. Einstein and Newton have known his touch when faced with dead-ends at the chalk board. Patton and Rommell each shouted his epithet over the roar of tanks engaged in battle. As has McEnroe and Waltrip, in their respective sports, when things didn't go their way.
Men the world over, through-out time, have shouted the Greek God of Damn-it's curse, in whatever language they tongue, when the need has arose. Many a righteous man has condemned those who speak his word, although they themselves have known it on their own tongues. The exclamation has been around longer than the recorded language of man itself. When the first Neanderthal stepped from his cave and was promptly run down by a passing mastodon, the guttural cry was smashed from his lungs in a single blast of resignation. We've all been there in one form or another since, haven't we my minions?
Even today, whether the news is good or bad, someone shouts a hardy "Damn-it!". No matter what, someone somewhere looses, and this exclaimed vocalization is their first means of expressing their grief. And if it wasn't for the Greek God of Damn-it, none of us would have this convenient tool at our disposal, day-in and day-out, to relieve or stress in the safest manner possible.
This Greek God of Damn-it and I have partaken of the finest feasts of fowl over the years, particularly of the Buffaloed variety, accompanied by a variety of others of our meager level of existence. These feasts usually degenerate into a kind of weekly jabber-fest where nearly every rule of etiquette for public correctness gets humiliated, violated, sodomized, and devastated. And this is without a single beer in sight! Then again, I am the Center of the Universe, and with me in attendance who would dare challenge our right to dine in sauce-splashing bravado?
The Greek God of Damn-it is The Edge to my Bono, some have said. He is a quiet, stead-fast, workaholic to my outlandish, outspoken, fool-hardiness.
So, my friends, the next time you find these simple words released from your lips, give a silent word of thanks to the Greek God of Damn-it for his contribution to our Universe.
I am the Center of the Universe.
Have a great day!
posted by B.R.Dailey | 7:59 PM
1 Comments:
That brought a tear to my eye...
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