Dancing to Dirges

Depressing and happy things Tim says, sometimes while drunk

Monday, October 10, 2005

I apologize for the lack of activity on here. Work's been...disappointing. I keep looking at the calendar and thinking that it's still august. Fucking september didn't even happen. Anyway.

A story for you. The titans made the earth. In the old style, Epimetheus did the gifting, and Prometheus supervised. Epimetheus provided beastkind with all manner of bling, courage and strength, sagacity, wings and claws and acid spit. When it came to man, though, he was at a loss. Prometheus stepped in and laid out the goods. Courage, wisdom, high learning. A cool pair of wrap around shades. Man got it all.

But the Titans didn't make woman. Jupiter, a god, made the first woman for revenge. Prometheus and his brother Epimetheus stole fire from the gods, and Jupiter was sore. So he made a gift, and he made it a weapon, and he made it so pretty that the Titans couldn't turn it down. The gods got together and contributed their little bit to the plan. Venus gave her the hot, Mercury gave her the bluff, Apollo gave her pipes. The perfect weapon. Her name was Pandora.

Epimetheus was pleased. He kept the woman on his desk, along with a really nice pen, a picture of a puppy on a beach, some flowers, and the Jar of Utter Darkness. The JUD was a little clay pot, with a stopper, and in it Epimetheus kept all the stuff he had decided to not gift the various creatures in the world. Diseases, jealousy, anger, pettiness. Shit like that. On the same desk as the woman. Slick.

One day, while Epimetheus was, I don't know, out watering Iceland or something, Pandora started wandering the desk. Oh what a cute puppy! Ah, these flowers smell nice! I wonder what's in this jar! Crash!

And, as you know, everything went to shit. Crap crap crap. But wait! What's this! At the bottom of the jar! It's HOPE! Yes, even in this, our darkest most woman induced hour, we have hope. Oh, praise be.

So, this is the fucking point. They made us without hope. Fucking remember that.

6 Comments:

At 9:42 PM , Blogger Splitcoil said...

Doomed! We're doomed!

But here's a splash of hope: I saw Serenity, and while it made no sense, it didn't matter.

It doesn't have to make sense, as long as it's cool, apparently. Which is a GOOD thing. Why are they flying spaceships and carrying around MP5's? Who cares. It's cool. And as long as nobody blinks, it goes over just fine.

Which is, for people like us, a little like hope.

 
At 8:04 AM , Blogger Tim Akers said...

Hey, you've got to love (paraphrased) dialogue like:

"How much ammo do we have left?"

"Three clips, a couple grenades and my swinging cock."

Oh yeah.

 
At 10:07 AM , Blogger Bravus said...

Q: ...and why does Mal have a six-shooter that sounds like a laser but apparently requires ammo?

A: Who the hell cares?!

But to return from the wastes of threadjack and the milk and honey of Serenity: lubberly little story, Shad. Perhaps verging on misogyny in spots, but we all have those days... and the moral of the story: the gods'll getcha...

 
At 10:16 AM , Blogger Tim Akers said...

Well, yeah, but it's not really my story. Just my emphasis.

 
At 1:54 PM , Blogger bootsofblack said...

"Jupiter, a god, made the first woman for revenge," sounds like woman were made to exact revenge upon other people. I can't disagree, especially when it comes to arguments between women. But that's a whole other topic for which I definitely don't have any explanations.

 
At 11:30 AM , Blogger José said...

I wonder what agenda had the tale originator. Somehow I am sure it was a male priest...

I am not sure whether being a subservient worker is better than a revenge tool.

Anyway in the intermediate phase all breeded with the others, which is why you have curious men, savage women and, I suppose, hot beasts.

The gods won, so their creation should be superior, anyway.

 

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