Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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The Mills of the Gods

Well, well, well. So: the Science-Denier-in-Chief now has the Trump Virus.

Or, to say it in Pagan, the Red Hag now has the Virus-in-Chief.

Metaphor piles on metaphor piles on metaphor. Of course, Fat Donald himself is the virus, a virus that has infected an entire country, a virus whose only interest is self-interest, with utter disregard for anyone else.

Of course, it didn't have to be this way. The US leads the world in corona-virus infections and deaths precisely because of the Science-Denier-in-Chief. Well, let him embrace his disease, and ill may it do him. Truly, he is its High Priest.

Did you hear the Cackle Heard 'Round the World as the news was announced this morning? For the rest of us, it's hard not to feel a sense of vindication.

Truly, as the proverb has it, the mills of the gods grind slowly.

Oh, but how fine they grind.




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Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.


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