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[Tidbits] The Good God


#1

For those of you for whom this may come as an all-encompassing shock
I am here to tell you I tend to be a tad irreverent. I am who I am,
you see. That said for every yin there’s a yang. Where there’s an up
there’s a down. Every left has it’s right. Where there’s a wet
there’s a dry. And of course where there’s a good there’s a bad. Or
perhaps not. Who knows?

Which brings us via a route so arcane and mysterious as to defy
description to Dagda. which means probably in Celtic “The Good God”.
Is there such a thing as a bad god? For the most part he looked like
any everyday bumpkin. A beard. Mustache. Slicked hair. Country style
clothes. They didn’t have Jeans back then. With of course one little
difference. You and I perhaps we carry a cane or an umbrella. Dagda
he carried about a huge club so huge in fact that it had to be
dragged along on wheels. And as a most inconsequential addendum it
was magic. Yes well there had to be some differences.

It was a great club yin and yang in concept. With one end he could
slay his enemies with the other he could restore the dead to life. I
could use one of those. Bang. You’re dead. Bing. You’re back. Yabba
dabba doo.

Dagda was a wondrous chap. A god of the first order. A superb
fighter a great warrior and the lover of Morrigan the war goddess.
When he wielded his club on the battlefield all who dared oppose him
were slain like flickering fleas drawn to candle flames and they
perished in a thrice. As an aside if thrice is three how do you say
four? Or did they not know how to count that high back then?

And yet despite his aggressive stances he also had a gentle side. A
sweet killer one might say if one were prone to using oxymorons. He
had a huge pot. Back then they called it a cauldron. And in it he
had an inexhaustible food supply enabling him to feed his populace
to the degree that no one ever went hungry. This was probably the
forerunner to today’s soup kitchens which, as everyone knows does
definitely not have an inexhaustible food supply for today’s soup
kitchens are governed by money and often a lack thereof as opposed
to back then when the cauldron was controlled by magic. Given a
choice I’ll take magic anytime. How about you?

I could tell you more about Dagda. I could tell you about the time
he shtupped (this is a Yiddish word ask your friends if you need a
translation) an enemy maiden whoin uncompromising
gratitude–promised to use her magic to lead him to victory over her
people. Dagda it would appear had many areas of proficiency.

As it happensif you can you believe it–I have an image of Dagda
with all his attendant paraphernalia. It’s in the form of a bronze
plaque which I superimposed on a gold filigree backing and then
colorized the plaque as best I could to make the whole thing look
like a jewelry pendant. Hey. I ain’t no dummy. There’s more than one
way to skin a mongoose. By hook or by crook I justify my means in
order to satisfy my ends.

Okay. Finito.You know the rest. The visit to the image… also known
as the viewing experience. You know where. Home page.
http://www.tyler-adam.com. Scroll down. Left side. Tidbits. Click.
And there for your sensory optic pleasure you will see an image of
Dagda the mighty warrior and superb lover and slayer and benefactor
to all.

And there ya have it. That’s it for this week folks.

Catch you all next week.

Benjamin Mark