Cupid Saves the World

   Cupid, the now retired Greek God of Love, was quizzical.

"Hey, Cupid, we’re trying to work on your memoir The Boy Who Shoots the Arrows, remember?" I said.  "So far we're only up to Chapter 1, Adventures in the Womb."

"I'm sorry, Perry, but I just don't understand how you 21st century Americans are running an idiot for President."

"Well, look, your gods weren't so tightly wrapped either,” I replied. “Zeus had poor Prometheus bound and sent an eagle to eat his liver every day."

"True, and Zeus was so cruel he assigned the job to an eagle who hated liver."

"But you’re right, Cupid, Trump is way worse than Zeus. At least Zeus had a half way decent toupee.

“Come on, Perry,  let's give Trump a taste of antiquity!”

“But he’s in New Jersey at a rally. How are we getting there?”

"Hello! I’m Cupid, I got wings.” 

"You can take me?"

"Yes, but if you start singing I Believe I Can Fly, I'm going to drop you."

In a twinkling of an eye - not that mine have ever twinkled - we were at a Trump rally in New Jersey.   We entered the building and there on the podium in front of us was Donald Trump, giving one of his cogent well-thought through speeches.

"Folks," he said, "I have decided that instead of banning all Muslims from entering the United States, I will ban only the ones who do not speak Yiddish."

"Yeah, Donald!" shouted a man in the crowd. "What a genius!"   

"And we will build a ten foot high wall around Salma Hayek!"

"A true leader!" screamed a woman in the front.

"Crooked Hillary would be the worst President ever, including Grover Cincinnati!"

"And Grover Cincinnati was terrible!" yelled another adherent.

"This is even worse than I thought," moaned Cupid. "The orange comb-over is the most reasonable thing about the guy."

"What are you going to do, Cupid? Call in Zeus? Will he work for scale?" 

"No, I'm going to use one of my arrows on Trump."

"But you said now that you’re retired your arrows only work to make the person admire one's clothes, not their bod."

"Just watch," said Cupid.

THWACK!

The arrow found its mark and in a twinkling of the eye - not that Trump's eyes or any part of him have ever twinkled -  he started babbling.

"What a great sweater, young lady!  Love the color of your jacket!  You're very well-tailored, sir. Hey, I really dig that man bun!"

The shocked crowd began to leave. ”He's not lying, he's not distorting, and he’s not insulting anyone,” they complained. “He’s boring our asses off. Let’s go check out Bernie Sanders!"

"You did it, Cupid!" I exulted. "You've saved the world!"

"Well, it may not hold, but at least we've learned one thing."

"What's that?"

"The only person with orange hair who should ever be president is Alfred E. Neuman!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Story About Cupid on Page One

Yep, it's my buddy Cupid!

"How about we do some work on our book this morning?" I asked Cupid, the former Greco-Roman God of Love whose memoir The Boy Who Shoots the Arrows I was co-authoring.

"Why not?  Family Feud sucks today!"

Cupid and I had been working for several weeks now on producing a memoir that would restore some luster to his somewhat tarnished image since he had stepped down as antiquarian God of Love. I hoped it might do something for my image too which had pretty much been tarnished since birth.

"Cupid,” I began “are you still a God?  Or are you just an ordinary person, like Jeb Bush?”

"No, once a God, always a God. I'm a God without Portfolio."

"Has there been any talk of your getting a new position?"

"Zeus offered me the job of God of Love for Shitty Looking People, but I turned him down."

"Sounds really difficult."

"You'd be surprised. A lot of people like Nicholas Cage." 

"Do your arrows still have any potency?"

"A little bit."

"So you can still make people fall in love?"

“No, no exactly.”

“What then?”

“I can make people admire your clothing." 

Just then the doorbell rang and I excused myself while Cupid set about grooming his wings. Damn, that meant I’d be vacuuming feathers until midnight again!

I opened the door and it was my sometime girlfriend Sandra. 

"This is a surprise,” I said. “Do you want to come in and meet....?”

"No, Perry, and I don’t want to beat around the bush any longer either," she said.  "I think we should stop seeing see each other.”

"But why? I just bought a refrigerator magnet with your name on it." 

"I'll be direct. You're not well-groomed, you wear your hair too long for someone who hasn't got any, and your table manners are straight out of the Three Stooges.”

“Well, you have to emulate someone!”

“And you're not assertive enough. All you do is watch movies. Trhe only exercise you get is pushing your fore finger up and down on the clicker.”

“But wait till you see how it’s helped my thumb wrestling!”

"And  you’re just not cultured enough. You told everyone at the Book Club you thought Shelley and Joyce were a couple of Jewish girls!"

"That's unfair, Sandra!  I only thought Joyce was Jewish."

THWACK!

From the next room I could hear Cupid unleashing one of his quietly invisible arrows in Sandra’s direction.  What a pal, he was doing what he could for me!

"I'm sorry, Perry," Sandra spoke softly.  “I'm afraid this is goodbye." 

I was crushed. Sandra turned to leave. Forever.

"Oh, by the way, Perry," she added brightly. 

"I just love your shoes!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brother, Can You Spare A Drachma?

It's me.  Your favorite 95% naked Greek God who looks like the Gerber Baby.

I just stopped by to say hello on Valentine's Day, which used to be my special day til I jumped ship and headed for greener pastures.  Or in my case, whiter snowier pastures.  And BTW ... 

Brother, can you spare a drachma?  

Last time I saw you  I had taken over the Groundhog Day gig at Punxsutawney PA, but I'm sorry to say things didn't work out. Punxsutawney isn't exactly Rio de Janeiro when your best suit of clothes is a loincloth and your employer won't even spring for a North Face jacket!  

Then again I had the unfortunate occurrence of being caught with my head up a few things other than my burrow hole.  

Well,  I am Cupid, goddamnit!

Hitting the job market, I first applied to work the Jewish holiday of Shavuos but got turned down.  They said a chubby Italian kid shooting arrows wasn't appropriate for a Jewish holiday.

They said even my most potent arrows couldn't make Jewish men sexy.

Now I'd rather bench press Governor Christie than go back to working Valentine's Day, but there is a certain cache in being a Greek God that isn't matched by fry man at McDonald's. So, I took a hint from some of the Jewish guys I'd hooked up with Jewish American princesses over the years, went into full begging mode, and called Zeus.

"Hi, Zeus!  Gee, I missed you, big guy!"

"Who's this?  Y'know, I am on the no call list."

"Zeus, it's me - Cupid!  Also known as Eros, the God of Erotic Love, Desire, Affection, and Grabbing Whatever's Available At 2:00 A.M."

"Cupid? I vaguely remember someone named Cupid who ran out on us last St. Valentine's Day!  First Valentine's Day that even the Rock didn't get laid! "

"I want to come back, Big Guy.  Uh, you offering Obamacare now?"

"Why should I take you back?"

"Because I can do this job like none other. There ... THWACK ... I've just united another two in love!" 

"That wasn't another two, that was another one - Governor Christie!  Like that guy needs to love himself more?"

"But no one handles gay marriage like I do. Watch me .... THWACK ... I've just sealed the relationship between two very handsome young gay men!"

"Cupid, that was Achilles and Patroclus!  You just ruined an ages-old mystery that has sparked fascinating debate and scholarship for centuries!"

"Well, at least you've got closure on it, and ...."
  
"Enough, Cupid!  Besides we've already replaced you."

"With whom?"

"Barry Manilow.  

"Barry Manilow?!  He's a mortal!  With a bad facelift!"

"He writes the songs that make the whole world sing, Cupid." 

"Well, what am I supposed to do now, Zeus?"

"Flutter the pavement, kid.  Oh, and Cupid?"

 "Yes, Zeus?"

"For interviews,  get yourself at least a North Face jacket.  You wanna be naked, get yourself a series on HBO!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cupid's Got A Brand New Bag!

    You know,  folks, I meant to post this on LinkedIn, but  does anybody really pay attention to LinkedIn?   That is, unless you're somebody trying to set a record for meaningless endorsements.

I'm Cupid, by the way, and this year don't look for me anywhere near that lamest of holidays called Valentine's Day.  

This year I've got a brand new bag (of arrows) and I'm flying it over to my new home in downtown Punxsutawney PA!

I'd simply had it up to my wingspan with forced romance as overblown as the dialogue in an Aaron Sorkin TV show, the constant subpoenas to testify in divorce cases ("The little bastard shot the wrong woman! I wanted the hot chick next to her!"), and appearing half-naked in greeting cards alongside doggerel penned by English majors bound for a indefinite future in their parents' basements.  

So I handed in my resignation to Zeus, by Jove!  

Got my resume together, making certain to leave off any jobs I'd had prior to 257 B.C. so I wouldn't give away my age, and began fluttering the pavement.  

It was on Craig's List where I saw it:  the good people of Punxsutawney PA were looking for an image upgrade.  They were tired of  Bill Murray outshining their mangy little rodent each and every February 2.  

So I put on my best loincloth, got a fresh perm, and went in for an interview.  Frankly, I was afraid I'd bombed it when I couldn't answer where I saw myself hibernating five years from now, but ...  Hey, Central PA, Daddy's home!   

And now, it is February 2, 2013,  and I'm ready for my close up, Mr. DeMille-ions of viewers!!!

"Hello, Punxsutawney!   Good Morning, America!  Hi,  George Stephanopoulos!  Hey there, Lara Spencer! 

(What? No drum roll?  I requested Paul Shaffer and the CBS Orchestra.)

Ladies and Gentlemen,  it is my  great privilege and time-honored duty to inform you that ...

I do see my shadow.
 
Sorry, folks,  it's gonna to be six more long weeks o' Winter!  With lots of snow, ice, and temperatures low enough to freeze the tootsies off  Helios himself! 

But, never fear, folks,  because  ....

THWACK!!!
BOINGGGGGGGG!!!!!

Whatever the weather, from now on,  

You're just gonna LOVE it!

Best job I've ever had.  

My cave even has cable and a wet bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~