Unrest in the Mud Hut

There is much unrest in my tribe right now. A rift has developed between the worshippers of Tibi (pronounced Tee Bee) and the worshippers of Kom Putii. The majority of the tribe are loyal practitioners of Tibiism. And though all pay varying degrees of tribute to Kom Putii, Tibi is hands down the greater of the two deities.

I am a high priest of Kom Putii. I spend each day prostrate at the altar of Kom Putii, and each evening pouring Wiki libations before the small Kom Putii shrine in our hut. Kom Putii is a demanding, yet benevolent god, who allows his adherents the illusion of communing with the divine on an almost equal footing. I pour Wiki libations deep into the night, and eventually have a vision and go to sleep, or post something supremely embarrassing that must be deleted before dawn in the hope that none of the other followers of Kom Putii who are channeling into me have read it.

It’s usually too late.

Tibi on the other hand is a puerile, authoritarian, selfish, self-centered, exacting, unsatisfiable bitch of a goddess, and favors her adherents in Asia above all others. Tibi tells you what to think. If you do not agree with something Tibi tells you, she punishes you with reruns of Desperate Housewives or by interrupting Grey’s Anatomy with news conferences from the Great Stammering Banana Slinging High Chief Chimp in the Whitehut. Every three and a half minutes Tibi demands that you buy more useless crap from her beloved Chinese.

My woman is a high priestess of Tibi.

It is going to bankrupt me.

Tibi is clever, and conjures many different lesser deities to control the minds of her followers. Each morning starts the same for us. The infant awakes screaming and demands “Momma food now. Tibi now. Tubbies. Tibi Tubbies. Now!”

And then goes into a trance and hisses and hits and bites you if you do not immediately place her before the altar of Tibi with whole grain offerings.

The Tubbies are seditious, wicked, androgynous, brightly-colored demons who wiggle and jiggle and feed off of the minds of the youngest members of the tribe. In the Western religious writings of the middle ages, they were known as Incubus and Succubus. In the dead of night, they were sent by Satan to anally probe and otherwise sexually torment devout Christians. To this day, —when not feeding on the minds of children at the behest of Tibi—, they creep and probe in the middle of the night.

The post-Christian era has a new term for it though: alien abduction. A full 25% of the American population reports some form of Teletubbie probing, yet no one has ever seen a space ship. Demonic possession, or course, is just to antiquated a notion to explain why, Po has you ball gagged with that circly thing on its head and is blinding you with a flashlight, while Dipsy is mining your rectum with its cranial probe. Aliens.

Now in the universe of my tribe there is a binding, metaphysical, and ubiquitous force from which both Tibi and Kom Putii draw their power. The vernacular term is electricity, but in reality it is a form of black magic created by all living things. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together. Without it we are reduced to groveling, filthy, savages who wail and gnash our teeth in the outer darkness.

You must never disturb this force, or the gods become angry and punish you. I recall a time many moons ago when I was committing the ultimate sacrilege by attempting to channel “electricity” into a new section of our hut during the high holy hour of Desperate Housewives.

Tibi was angered by my transgressions and the force became unbalanced.

It was suddenly dark. Tibi and Kom Putii abandoned us. We were left to wail and gnash our teeth in the inky blackness. Then Tibi took possession of my woman, and she chased me around shrieking that I had blasphemed against the gods, and struck at me with a broom and any other blunt object that was readily at hand until I made proper amends by clicking fuse switches, and worship services at the altar of Tibi were restored.

So the unrest in the tribe grows from the fact that Tibi has grown too powerful, and other mindless rituals such as homework are not being completed. I am preparing to strike at the followers of Tibi in much the same manner Conan struck at the Snake People. But I am a follower of Kom PutIi, not Conan’s great god Krom. I fear it will be a desperate, grueling battle. Much blood will be shed. And I am fairly certain that instead of crushing my enemies, seeing them driven before me, and hearing the lamentations of their women, I will most likely retreat to the temple of Kom Putii with a bottle of Wiki and post supremely embarrassing drivel in the middle of the night.

I’ll keep you posted.