Holy Saints

by Jerry Vilhotti


The Greek gods, like saints, sat watching this game they had encountered many years before;

seeing the likes of the great Babe Ruth hitting awesome skyscrapers that went for "Homers"

while almost at the same time devouring prodigious amounts of hot-dogs, speckled

with rat chit, and gulping down gallons of American made nectar peed in by pissed

off below minimum waged workers; the Splendid Sliver, the last person to hit four

hundred or better whom the Beantown sportswriters disliked - giving him a hard time due to his having

a "shady" brother on the west coast spending suckers' money - as

he was giving them the all mighty middle-finger bird saying judge "The Sliver"

and not the birds flying in his life; the haughty Clipper who could glide like a sail boat,

making difficult plays look so easy, but never raised a voice when some of his innocent

people were interned, like the Japanese on the west coast, for looking like Sacco

and Vanzetti and not realizing he was an icon - ready to sue Miss Robinson for saying he went away;

and the Black-American who may have been sixty five years old when

he struck out his last major league Whitey who had a rope and a tree in his back

pocket but after the greed season happened when both owners and players showed

great contempt for what was once a game, the gods looked upon it with a jaundiced

eye telling each other that it was all about the great stain on souls and it was

not seen by them as a black and white situation - rather if a person had a great stain

on his soul meant he or she was incapable of loving others, self and would heap

deeds of ugliness on others and yet still be good at certain moments while those

with less stain on their souls would be more inclined to have love for others, a

self love and eschew an indifference, embracing an empathy - and so the gods began

adding even more odd dimensions to it: like having a ball trapped inside a grotesque

Arabian Oily hand only to bounce out of it when making the pasture guarder bang

against a fence, to make what once looked like an out become a four wheatear-bagger,

and then delightfully toying with a manager's arrogant mind by planting a bright idea

of doing a run and hit with the bases loaded allowing the easy triple play to follow -

making for many pseudo orgiastic thrills among the many Styrofoam-leaking cup holders.


The announcement flooding the whole stadium asked all good fanatics to please donate

five, ten or a thousand dollars to a great cause propounded by the owner-dictator

of the Loss Alamo Rockets and even if they did that noble thing, the team would

still be raising their prices on seat tickets — for didn't one of the great American

fornicating Founding Fathers say "time was money" and at their concession stands to

make become a reality the pellet missile system that the whole world would fear—including friendly

nations that were trying to play in the game of greed too perpetuated by the god

called GOP which meant in esoteric terms among those who were rich owning five million

dollars and owning about eleven homes making the four million dollars people very

very angry. It was known also in endrun corporate jargon as The Mighty PMS.


"Explain please? Is this something that Mohammed American Black guy from Kentucky

would do when pretending he was getting beat up while making the other fighter punch

himself out?" Zeus said.


Poseidon, god of the sea and horses, took it upon himself to answer; being sort

of a favorite of the mighty one who had beaned the throne off his father's head said:

"Before we Greeks came to power in the Mediterranean area trying to make human

bodies beautiful - the whole world was concerned with dying; making all kinds of

religions flourish, so building structures in honor of death, like the ziggurats

of Babylon and the pyramids of Egypt, whose women were the first to rouge their lips to resemble juicy - "


"What in the holy hell does that have to do with price of bitter broccoli rape?"

Zeus shouted.


"But my most powerful One - greater than even the Persian god of light with

his twelve apostles who wanted to promise reincarnation to make a better world but instead

was misinterpreted as saying resurrection - I was getting to the point in my own

galloping wave-like way— "


"Do you recall the bastard Prometheus person?" Hermes reminded him.


"By Jove I do! You see, the owner of the teammortals named Casper Shrub who

lost much of his brain cells during his earlier years what with drinking like the

great Babe and some say doing "babonia-dope" on the side has this money

making idea for the wealthy makers of fungo limbs and Lilly white pellets who contribute

lots of masuma to the unholy pastime. And if the ticketbuyers fold into it, which

he knows they will like when they do paying all the hidden taxes they're not

aware of since they are not called taxes but are dressed in other clothing, insists

he knows a new way to stop Homers and all that notion of giving a dignity to humanity

and carry on where that other leader who did the pee dance when Paris was burning

and many of those haughty people would become collaborators—"


"How pray tell?" Zeus said rubbing his knee with a closed fist which he

would soon bite; making spike mark indentations appear all over its back like Gaea's

once good earth that had been eaten up by all the near-sighted and wannabee millioners.


"He wants to position one of his fungo mortals on the foul side of left pastures,

and if the fanatics buy into this, he will add another one in foul right pastures

so when they see a pellet hit by an enemy clubmortal going toward Homerville they

will begin hitting their pellets to hit it so preventing it from going over the

fence and become a buying item for the courts to decide like who would become a

president"


All the gods looked away as Zeus began chewing the back of his hand - thinking indeed

when the coliseum fell the whole world really did begin a dying and worse an ignorance

that would copulate with a servitude - disallowing saints from marching into the

eyes of denial.




END 8-24-08