There are those who believe the gods died thousands of years ago, but they are wrong. The gods have not died, they have bided their time, immortal, knowing they would be called upon again. And so they have been. The end of socialism is not communism, is not anarchy, nor is it necessarily death and destruction, unless, of course, the gods desire such things. Is it not Poseidon, the god of all water life, who has ordained that a handful of smelt be saved at the cost of the destruction of the State of California? Is it not Prometheus, the god of fire, who has convinced outraged rioters to burn down their own neighborhoods in revenge for perceived ill treatment? Is it not Hermes, the god of heralds and messengers who has clouded the minds of American statesmen that causes them to hear what they want to hear instead of what is being said? Is it not Mammon and Baal Hammon together who have destroyed the monetary system and consigned millions of unborn children to the Tophet of unsustainable debt? No, my friends, the gods of my youth are alive and well, though they have moved from Olympus to Capitol Hill, where Spites deceive all in residence, and Atalanta, the huntress of Artemis, stalks her quarry in the nighttime streets.

From the sands of Pascua Florida
To the far Pacific shore
In the sacred groves the temples and the shrines
Boom with laughter and with dancing
As the wine flows evermore
And the gods grow fat on sacrificial kines
Oh to be a god or goddess
Is to live the life divine
Even though the Left remain a noxious pain
But the gods they have the answer
God shown justice is condign
Atalanta hunts till none of them remain