OK, so Venus hasn’t shown up yet at her own party, but it seems like everyone’s having a great time. Just what I want to see – because, you know, I can’t ruin y’all’s party or rain on your parade if there’s no party or parade, right?
But, hey – at least you invited me this time! Either you’ve decided that I’m not so bad after all or somebody might actually be taking me seriously for a change instead of just assuming that I threw that apple bomb into Thetis’s wedding because my po wittoo ego was hoout that I didn’t get invited.
In fact, since I’ve got everyone’s attention at the moment thanks to that doll, Mike Brown, let’s set the record straight.
All of the gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus except me got invitations to the wedding of Thetis and Peleus. I was deliberately left out, and why? Because Eris, you know, she’s a malcontent, she’s always making trouble, she doesn’t have a nice word to say about anyone. They wanted a nice little happy affair, with a blushing bride and dashing groom dipped in white frosting and all wrapped up with a bow. I mean, really.
Everybody knew it was a forced wedding. She didn’t want to marry him, and the way Zeus was looking at her, he could have gotten her pregnant just with his stare. But no one was allowed to say so, and they knew that if they invited me, I’d state the obvious.
So there they were, Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite, that despicable creature. And they were all feeling so smugly superior – Athena thinking she knows everything, Hera expecting everyone to wait on her hand and foot, and Aphrodite with her boobs pushed up to her chin, batting her eyelashes at every god and mortal man in the room (just so you know, Ditie, I know they’re fake). I mean, it was pathetic the way the gods were going ga-ga over her. You’d think they’d behave a little better than mere mortals.
Well, as I always say, “don’t get mad, get even.” Not that I had to do much. The truth has a nasty little way of coming out, all by itself. You have to admit, the apple thing was pure genius – not to mention hilarious. How could anyone say I don’t have a sense of humor?
And, yes, OK, I knew exactly what would happen. But there’s a big difference between saying I knew what would happen and blaming me for their own selfish behavior. They want to say I sowed the seeds of discord, and they just love to blame the whole Trojan War thing on me.
You have to give ol’ Zeus credit, he knew enough to stay out of that one. But then you also have to give him the blame. Because he didn’t have the wit to defuse the situation or the backbone to make a difficult decision, he passed the buck to a mortal – a mere boy, at that. Certainly, he should have known what the outcome would be if he left the decision to Paris. Then, human resources was never his strong point.
Now, if Athena was really so smart, she’d know that men don’t love women for their brains or their power. Really, Athena. Is it lost on you that you’re still single, while Hera is married to the CEO and Aphrodite sleeps with whoever she wants, whenever she wants? And Hera – well, you’re so busy redecorating the dining room that it would never occur to you that men don’t do your bidding because they love you. You have them “trained.”
But obviously not enough, when push comes to shove.
So the dumb blonde comes out the winner. I have to tell you, I’ve got a little discord in my own thoughts as to whether mortal women are smart to emulate her or not. I mean, they can’t have failed to notice that it’s how they get what they want, because 99 percent of men are just like Paris.
Just don’t keep laying the rap on me for what happened with that apple. Any one of those prima donnas could have turned the whole situation around by graciously giving the apple to one of her sisters. Rather than fighting over it, they could have split it three ways. Or heck, they could have given it to poor Thetis. It was her wedding day, right? And I’m the one with the ego problem? Excuse me?
Well, you’ve all been really nice to listen to my rant. I guess that’s one of the benefits of having a planet named after me. I’m right up there with Pluto now . . . oh, wait, he’s down there. Whatever.
And Ceres. Now there’s a gal. She isn’t one to hide behind niceties, and she doesn’t flinch when it comes to looking the truth straight in the eye. She’s been down in the dumps, doesn’t mince words. I think she deserves to rule a sign.
And me? Well, I just told you I don’t have an ego problem, so I don’t need a stinkin’ sign to rule in order to feel good about myself. I think I’ll just go run over to see my good friends in the Republican Party.
Oooh, I just love a good party to ruin!
(This article originally appeard on The Pisces Chronicles on September 24, 2006.)