Diego Rivera Night of the Rich

Diego Rivera Night of the RichLeroy Neiman FemlinUnknown Artist Abstract Autumn by DougallAndy Warhol Shot Blue Marilyn 1964
have been different.
For sheep are stupid, and have to be driven. But goats are intelligent, and need to be led.
Ur-Gilash, Great days. Great days. Every day fresh converts. The rise of Om had been unstoppable . . .
He jerked awake.
Old Ur-Gilash. Weather god, wasn't he? Yes. No. Maybe one of your basic giant spider gods? Something like that. Whatever happened to him?
What happened to me? How does it happen? You hang around the astral planes, going with the flow, enjoy the rhythms of the universe, you think that all the, you know, humans are getting thought Om. Ah, those were the days . . . when Ossory and his followers had broken into the temple and smashed the altar and had thrown the priestesses out of the window to be torn apart by wild dogs, which was the correct way of doing things, and there had been a mighty wailing and gnashing of feet and the followers of Om had lit their campfires in the crumbled halls of Gilash just as the Prophet had said, and that counted even though he'd said it only five minutes earlier, when they were only looking for the firewood, because everyone agreed a prophecy is a prophecy and no one said you had to wait a long time for it to come true.