Sloth – God of Staying In

March 29, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Idleatry is the new Idolatry!

Sloth is a deadly sin to some, but is a pandemic stemming virtue to the rest of us. Under normal circumstances, Sloth is the deity of folks who have just had a really long week at work. He is casually worshipped by most of us at some point in our lives. Usually on Fridays nights, with a take away and a box set. However, at certain times in history, Sloth has taken on a much more vital role.

In those unusual times the most virtuous course of action really is inaction. To sit on your cartouche and wait for all this to blow over. The path to righteousness is the one you do not walk down.

Sloth themself will never manifest in person. They have never left “Stayincyde”, their celestial crib. In fact, they rarely leave the celestial sofa. In modern times Sloth occasionally communicates with their followers via baffling online videos. The latest involves sitting in the bath and performing a song where any semblance of a consistent key signature is imaginary. Sloth was particularly important to the famous ancient tribes, the Amazons, the Ocado and the Justeats. These tribes would bring many offerings, attempting to keep Sloth happy by supplying everything they really needed. Mainly gin and loo roll.

A devout follower of Sloth will take a vow of self-isolation. After this point they will only leave their abode for essential supplies, essential work and care duties, or for a brief daily exercise within 2 km (considered optional). When they do leave their house, they must stay at least two metres from others at all times. On their return they immediately conduct a ritual cleansing with sanctified sanitising soap and warm water. Worshippers will wear the ceremonial fluffy bath robe at all times whilst under their vow. In their hand they will clasp that most holy and potent of religious artefacts, The Telly Remote. A worshipper of Sloth will flick through all 999 television channels like a Catholic prays their way around the rosary.

On taking their vow of isolation, many followers will simultaneously take a vow of creative productivity. However, as experienced worshippers will tell you, commitment to this secondary pledge rarely survives the “Onanistic Phase”. Nearly all neophytes experience this. With no one to play with, one starts to play with oneself. One sub-sect joyfully embrace and celebrate this period of self love. They are known as the Happy Fappies.

The most devoted worshippers of Sloth have a somewhat haphazard approach to personal grooming. All routine body hair depilation is abandoned. Head hair may go unbrushed for several days, but then be plaited eight different ways in an afternoon. Home haircuts are usually only ever attempted once.

Sloth has a secret penchant for Ska music. This may be because they have the head of a Two Toned Sloth. This is why worshipping Sloth for too long can lead to Madness. His followers have adapted several popular Ska hits as hymns. Including, Ghost Town, Our House and (Talking to) The Mirror in My Bathroom.

Some evidence has been uncovered that the famous William Mompesson, vicar of the self isolating plague village of Eyam, got in a bit of bother with his bishops. Although it is not clear whether this was about the secret altar to Sloth hidden in his cellar, or over that scandalous business with Mrs Home.

Sloth’s nemesis is another bestial deity called the Slow Boris. A primate headed god, with a distinctive dry cough, that is incapable of responding in a timely manner in a crisis.

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Loadin’ Skypefather – God of Video Calls

March 22, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

He has hovered around in the background for a few years as a very minor deity. Now current events have thrust Loadin’ Skypefather into the theological limelight. He looks set to be a major player in the modern international pantheon for some time to come. A boon to mankind, helping us to reduce direct social contact. This year even Santa Claus is thinking of using a Virtual Presents Device.

Loadin’ Skypefather is the god of virtual communication that enables you to stay connected with your family and colleagues. This is considered by many to be a marvel of the modern age, and by others to be a real step back in human development. The critics argue that video calling destroys 90% the fun of working from home. As it forces you to brush your hair and be properly dressed (at least from the waist up). The first time non-believers see themselves on screen, they realise why Hollywood spends millions on hair, make up and lighting. What few people know is that, unless you have offered the correct prayers to the Skypefather, your webcam will be infested with a psychic filter that makes your face look like a smashed thumb and any breathing near the microphone sound like an punctured accordion being played by a two year old.

Loadin’ Skypefather has no designated temples or meeting places. Instead each worshipper will have a small shrine in their own home. This takes the form of a dedicated clean and tidy area amid the usual chaos. This provides a socially acceptable backdrop for video calls that won’t invite judgement on their living arrangements. This space is used for dialling into Video Conference Prayer Meetings, which is this sect’s preferred modem of worship.

There is an awkward initial stage to every prayer meeting, when only two worshippers have joined the call and are waiting for everyone else to join. They will invariably be the two members of the group who know each other least well, and they will be forced to make excruciatingly awkward small-talk until the others dial in. The prayer meeting formally begins with each worshipper reciting the traditional greeting, “Can everybody see me?” as they dial in. Next, the weather in each worshipper’s location will be discussed. One person will then interrupt by joining the meeting late. At which point, the congregation will chorus “Who just joined?” and the whole start of the ritual must be repeated.

One worshipper will be designated to take notes of the prayer meeting. They do this in the traditional manner, by typing with lump hammers on a keyboard full of crisps. When the first worshipper to leave signs off at the end of the meeting, the whole congregation will chorus, “Byeeeeeeee!” so loudly that everyone’s speakers distort.

Should you chose to join one of their virtual meetings, you should be aware that there are certain sins that, if committed, will get you booted off the call. These sins include; eating or drinking without muting your microphone, looking at your own image on the screen rather than the camera, sitting under the air conditioner and being the only one to get a word in edgewise. Sinners will be punished by Loadin’ Skypefather making them question absolutely everything about themselves. Particularly, “Do I really sound like that?”

A few of the Skypefather’s early adopters have now ascended to full priesthood. You may be forgiven for thinking they have taken a vow of silence. In truth, they have just accidentally left their mute function on. The high priest Monty Zoomer once tried to videocall the Skypefather himself, in the hope of receiving some words of wisdom. Unfortunately, all he said was, “Oh hello. I’ll get your mother.” before vanishing off screen.

Loadin’ Skypefather has a divine nemesis, the demon Feedbacchus. Feebacchus is a mythical prankster who lives in the ethernet and makes the audio drop out on the ——— words in every ——–. He also enjoys tormenting the righteous followers of Skypefather by whistling loudly in their ears until their brains explode. Although this sounds scary, he is not really a major threat, as Feebacchus can be defeated simply by turning him down.

The young are somehow mystically drawn to the majesty of Loadin’ Skypefather. When someone makes an important video call, any small children in the house will be lured into the field of view to see what’s going on. Animals are similarly entranced. Cats, particularly, will be overcome with an urge to flop down between the caller and the camera and start performing some anal grooming.

In addition to the virtual prayer meetings, Loadin’ Skypefather worshippers will engage in a ritual known as “Video Calling the Parents”, which is practised at least once a week. This ritual begins with an obligatory preliminary ordinary phone call, to provide tech support. This will often take longer than the actual rite itself. It is traditional for the parents of Loadin’ Skypefather’s followers to carefully write down the entire video call invitation link in their address book, so they can use it again next time. This whole shebang may all sound like a lot of hassle, but it’s worth it just to see ~~their faces light up~~ right up their noses.

May Loadin’ Skypefather watch over you, as you remotely watch over your loved ones.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Dot Matris – Mother of Printers

March 15, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Dot Matris came in to being in 1968, when the very first computer printer experienced it’s first technical fault. Dot Matris is a not so much a “Mother” of printers in the nurturing sense. She’s more a “Mother” in the Samuel L. Jackson sense. Dot Matris is always depicted wearing a distinctive high-waisted “micro line” dress. In her mythology, Dot Matris is married to the handsome mortal Prince Gamut. Together they work to try and foil the evil schemes of the Plotters. She is said to fly across the heavens in her celestial fighter aircraft, known as “The Laser Jet” singing as she goes. Well, I say singing. It’s more of a shrill, rhythmic, buzzing scream.

Dot Matris loathes poor organisation, bad time management and last minute rushes. Therefore, prayers will only be answered when your print job is not time critical. The closer you are to your deadline, the more likely it is that your prayers will fall on deaf ears. Sometime she will further punish you for the hubris of expecting her aid, by spreading a plague of bugs through all your technical devices. It is vital that you only pray to Dot Matris once for each print job. If you pray to her repeatedly, she will get annoyed. Nothing will come out of your printer until after you need it. Then a thousand copies will suddenly spew forth into the air, and you will be powerless to stop them.

The principle temple of Dot Matris is in Epsom in the UK. It is a very recent structure. It has been cleverly 3D printed from concrete, plastic and chocolate. (There is a video on YouTube about how they did it in “Just a day!”). The temple is populated and maintained by her sacred order known as the “Brother Printers”.

This sect is lead by the “Printer Head”. “Brothers” may be of any gender. The current Printer Head is Daisy Wheeler. She is the fifth to hold the title. (The first to hold that title has now been Canonised as St Hewlett of Packard.) The next Printer Head will be divinely chosen by Dot Matris before their birth. The Brothers will know them by the “Lexmark”, which will manifest somewhere upon their body.

The altar at the centre of the temple is designed to dispense the daily offerings of consumables which are made to appease the goddess. Dot Matris is said to eat a hundred reams of the finest quality paper every day. These are lovingly loaded into plastic trays by the Brothers in order to make the feeding easier. She abhors cheap paper, and if offered anything less than 90gsm she will just chew it up and spit it out.

On the top of the altar stand four elegant vessels for the goddess’s beverages. She will be offered, and drink, five gallons of ink every day (a gallon of black, a gallon of magenta, a gallon of cyan, and for some weird reason, two gallons of yellow) . If any one of these reservoirs runs dry, the goddess will shut down and refuse to do anything. The holy ink they must provide for the offering is incredibly rare and precious. It is made from dragon’s milk and mermaid’s toenails. The goddess will only accept the genuine stuff. If given a cheaper substitute she will send you many messages of dire warning. In order to get this holy ink the priesthood have to buy hundreds and hundreds of brand new printers every day and extract the ink from each one. This has turned out to be by far the cheapest way of doing it (around the back of the temple is a landfill pit, overflowing with thousands of forlorn, drained printers.)

If you visit the temple. Do try to coincide your visit with one of their excellent “Jammin'” sessions. These involve an informal group gathering around a blocked printer, and freestyle riffing advice on how to fix it, whilst the owner of the printer tries not to worry about a thing, and believe that every little thing’s gonna be alright. I think it is a lot of fun. When you get to try it, I hope you like Jammin’ too. Refreshments are usually served at these sessions, notably the traditional “Bubblejet Tea”. Before the end of your visit, why not take the opportunity to make a-toner-ment for your sins.

The sacred text of Dot Matris is known as “The Manual”. The scared text gets fainter and fainter as you progress towards the end, but this doesn’t matter. It has never been read, people have only ever glanced at the diagrams.

Thank you to Rhiannon Williams (@Feiryred) , for the brilliant suggestion of Dot Matris. Welcome to the Hive Mind.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Scrubbup – Goddess of Infection Control

March 8, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

There are many deities of healing, but Scrubbup beats them all, as the prevention is always better than the cure. Whist she mostly takes the form of a human female, she is all bear below the elbows. Of all the deities, Scrubbup is considered to be humanity’s first and best line of defence against disease. Many people are surprised to learn that Scrubbup is a deity of the modern age, coming into being sometime in the mid 1840’s. About the time that people started to realise that, if you don’t wash your hands after using the bathroom, you and your friends may as well greet each other by sticking your hands down each other’s pants. The early pioneers of her sect, who first started to preach the word of Scrubbup were disbelieved, derided, stigmatised, and even martyred. Physicians were supposed to cure disease, surely they could not be spreading it! Some of these early radicals have since been elevated to sainthood or “saintised”. Such as Saint Ignaz Semmelweis, Saint Florence of Nightingale, Saint Dora of Walsall and Saint John Snow (who knew a surprising amount, but it took him ages to get anyone to listen).

The faith of Scrubbup is still going strong today. The standards of purity laid down by her church have been adopted into medical practice all over the world. You will struggle today to find a medical professional who is not a devotee. Their motto is “Spread the word, not the pathogen!” In order to help the layperson understand the mind bogging numbers of bacterial that can occupy a common object, they have developed a unit of bacteria known as the “Metric Toilet Seat”. As in, “Did you know your mobile phone carries three Metric Toilet Seats worth of bacteria?” Today this sect is highly active and organises and funds both a research and an educational mission. The education mission go forth into the community, teaching the doctrine that good hygiene is the key to life everlasting, or at least life lasting a lot longer than it would otherwise. They sometimes hold awareness rallies, but unfortunately, as most of the attendees are doctors, no one can read their placards. The research arm mainly remain within the temple, where they devotedly spend hours and hours staring into microscopes, watching aerobic bacteria do their cardio.

When you visit a temple of Scrubbup, the first thing you will notice is that, where the holy water dish would be in a Catholic church, there is instead a holy alcohol hand sanitiser dispenser. The priesthood and congregation will frequently use this, giving the impression that they are constantly hatching a dastardly plan. Above the entrance door itself is a sign which says “Mind the Strep”. Inside, instead of communal pews, there are individual seats, placed at least a meter apart. The focal point of the temple is a special hand washing font, with those long arm taps, where the High Priestess, known as Auntie Viral, demonstrates correct hand washing technique. As she does this, the congregation sing hymns to accompany her. This helps her time the correct duration of her demonstration. These hymns all last exactly 20 seconds, and include include twice “Happy Birthday to You Times Two”, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, and for the Goths, four times through “Hey Now, Hey Now Now, Sing this Corona to Me”.

The priesthood can be recognised by the austere robes or “Scrubs” that they wear. (The US girl group TLC were excommunicated for failure to conform to the dress code.) These vestments include distinctive blue ceremonial face masks. There is an apocryphal tale that, once, some priests of Scrubbup went to pick up supplies of the face masks from Superdrug, but they had run out. The sales assistant suggested they try Boots. They almost suffocated.

Sadly, most people in the street give little thought to the wisdom of Scrubbup until there is some kind of epidemic scare situation. Then they often misinterpret the sensible guidance wildly. This is why, when advised to stay at home, they will proceed in a mass rabble to Sainsbury’s and up buy heaps of Knorr, Bovril and Oxo. This panic response is known as “stockpiling”. Inexplicably, people also get an urge to buy up all the toilet paper in sight, like a squirrel that ate a senna pod. One school of thought is that, if people are going to have to put their heads between their legs and kiss their arses goodbye, they want it to taste okay.

Scrubbup does not only have a role in medicine. Her beneficence is essential to space exploration. Sacred sterilisation and decontamination rites are carried out over any space vessel or probe to make sure that MARS missions do not become an MRSA missions.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Mindsetaur – God of Management Buzzwords

March 1, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

At first there was just a scattering of stars in the heavens. Then, one day, someone saw a big picture amongst the stars and joined the dots. This made the shape of a great bull-headed man, and Lo! Mindsetaur was created. Due to his bovid head, Mindsetaur is unable to converse like a normal human, and speaks an obscure jargonese of his own. When he first set foot upon the earth, the clay shattered beneath his feet, for he is a ground-breaking deity. Mindsetaur is always shown wielding a businessman’s umbrella, which conceals a sword-stick to represent his “cutting edge” nature. He is also always depicted with, let us just say, “Low hanging fruit,” (it would seem that in his adolescence, he dropped both balls). Of course, what Mindsetaur is best known for, is his production of titanic quantities of bovine excrement*. The divine spirit of Mindsetaur floats invisibly in the air around all meeting rooms and offices.

Mindsetaur has just one principal, dedicated temple. However, he has a sacred space where he is worshipped in almost every business premises and conference centre world-wide. These are known as “Boredrooms”. These spaces are where their most frequently practiced rite is carried out weekly. For this, a select group of worshippers will assemble in the Boredroom. They summon the divine presence of Mindsetaur by ensuring that at least one consultant and one senior board member will be present for the ceremonies. During the proceedings the spirit of Mindsetaur will possess the minds of those (normally perfectly sane) people present, and within precisely thirty seconds someone will say “stake holder”. The gathered then proceed to speak in tongues for the next three hours. They speak an indecipherable babble of portmanteaus, acronyms and contractions which form a secret language known as “TLA”. The rite ends when this hallowed vocabulary has been exhausted. One of the attendees will mark this moment by jumping up and shouting “BINGO!” This particular rite is called, “This Ritual Could Have Been an Email”.

They also have a couple of notable religious festivals. Annually, at midsummer, groups of Mindsetaur’s worshippers will get utterly inebriated together in a sunlit field, in a religious festival known as “Blue Sky Drinking”. This is a very popular event, with large numbers of the faithful taking the opportunity to drink outside of the box of their suburban home. This is not to be confused with their other annual festival known as the, “Team Building Weekend” (also known as the festival of “Why am I Having to Put Up With These Wankers on a Saturday?”).

The principle temple or “Head Office” of Mindsetaur can be hard to locate. You may need a road map. As you arrive, you will cross a driveway paved with numbers, which will crunch pleasingly as you drive over them. The first thing you may notice is that, outside the front of the temple, there is a small pond filled with really aggressive ducks. The noise they make can be deafening, as they perpetually fight and bicker amongst themselves. I don’t know what’s wound them up, but those ducks are always in a row.

Once inside, you will see the focal point of the temple, a giant statue of Mindsetaur which stands on a large stone plinth. You can see a smooth indentation, where the plinth has been worn smooth by the brush of a million faithful hands. Every worshipper visiting the temple will touch base at some point. In front of this stands a large, oval, highly polished mahogany table surrounded by high backed leather chairs. One chair, at the head of the table, is significantly more imposing than the others. The table bares healthy offerings of water and fruit. These are never touched as the worshippers always bring their own coffee and biscuits. Around the edges of the room stands a row of simple wooden pews, decorated with a mystical carvings known as “bench marks”. During your visit, you may be lucky enough to catch a recital from the famous temple choir. Traditionally, they only have one hymn book between them, so that they are all singing from the same sheet. The temple also houses an observatory with a large scope, which is always focused on the client.

Around the back of the temple stands a grove of Mindsetaur’s sacred apple trees. The fruit from these is sold to raise money for the upkeep of the temple. Although they have other income streams, this is their core business. There is also a small workshop, where a team of priests strive daily to devise something new for vehicles to run around on. It’s not all work though. For recreation, the temple also has a ball park, which stands behind the orchard on an unstable colliery tip. Unfortunately, due to poor slope stability and drainage, the goalposts keep moving. It’s most certainly not a level playing field.

In Mindsetaur’s religious texts, there are several parables told about the allegorical character “Sinner Gee”. The consequences of whose actions, are always greater than the sum of those actions. Reading the full religious text of Mindsetaur is a bit if a turgid slog, as they are published in the form of a long memo. Hardly anyone has read the scripture in full. As a result everyone talks about Sinner Gee, trying to look knowledgeable, but hardly anyone truly understands what Sinner Gee means.

Acolytes of Mindsetaur live their lives doing their best to walk the walk down the critical path to righteousness. Members of his sect who transgress are punished by being left firmly out of the loop. The cult of Mindsetaur is lead by Chief Executive Priest Gwyn Wynne, who has the greatest leverage within the cult. Mindsetaur’s faith has traditionally been male dominated in the past. In the last century, progress has been made towards greater diversity. Older and more conservative members of the sect are still a little confused by non-binary people. Their naturally capitalist natures mean that they expect everyone to have a gender. The whole sect also harbour an irrational fear of Geordies. Should Newcastle-upon-Tyne be mentioned within earshot of a Mindsetaur worshipper, they will mutter “Eff’ why-aye” under their breath as a kind of counter curse. As you might expect, for the worshippers of such a materially oriented deity, devotees fully expect to receive divine favours from Mindsetaur in exchange for their prayers and sacrifices. Each worshipper will monitor their ROI, or “Return on Invocation” very carefully.

*It is little known that Herakles was initially commanded to clear out Mindetaur’s manure midden as one of his twelve labours. The heap of steaming faeces was so monstrous that Herakles took one look at it and said, “Seriously?” Both Eurystheus and Hera conceded, “Fair enough, you can do the Augean stables instead.” Herakles signed with relief and was heard to murmur “Thank F…” as he left for Elis. This episode was never mentioned again nor included in Peisander’s epic poem.

Thank you to Paul O’Neill, who suggested Mindsetaur, from bitter, bitter experience…

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.