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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So, a Druid Walks into a Bar...

In the days of Queen Boudicca, there was a young woman who aspired to become a Druid.

“For the first three years of your training, you will keep the Great Silence,” the Chief Druidess tells her. “From one Samhain to the next, you will speak not so much as a single word. Then at Samhain you and I will meet to review your progress, at which time you may speak as many as two words, if you wish.”

The first year of the woman's training goes by. At Samhain she is summoned to the Chief Druidess.

“Well,” says the Druidess, “You have completed your first year of the Great Silence. You may now say as many as two words, if you wish. What would you like to say?”

“Bed hard,” says the woman.

The second year of the woman's training goes by. At Samhain she is summoned to the Chief Druidess.

“Well,” says the Druidess, “You have completed your second year of the Great Silence. You may now say as many as two words, if you wish. What would you like to say?”

“Food lousy,” says the woman.

The third year of the woman's training goes by. At Samhain she is summoned to the Chief Druidess.

“Well,” says the Druidess, “You have completed your third and final year of the Great Silence. You may now say as many as two words, if you wish. What would you like to say?”

“I quit,” says the woman.

“Well, I can't say that I'm surprised to hear it,” says the Chief Druidess. “I for one never thought that you'd make a good Druid. The entire time you've been here, you've done nothing but complain.”

 

Disclaimer:

This joke is about Druids in the days of Queen Boudicca.

My understanding is that current Druid training practices are not quite so severe.

;-)

 


Above: Gustave Doré, Bertha the Druidess

From: E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen, River Legends: Father Thames and Father Rhine (1875)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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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