I usually watch some version of a Christmas Carol each year, and I haven’t done that. Nothing like seeing a rich person count their money then die and have the chambermaids steal his bed curtains to make one feel better about themselves.
Instead, I dug up an episode from a series, Britannia, a fictional tale about Romans making their second foray into what would become Ireland. There’s Druids and stuff, but the “magic” is mostly hypnotism. Anyway, in a scene with a couple characters with small parts, they find a house with potions in it, a lot of which are hallucinogenics. They take them and start thinking about how the world works.
One guy realizes they see different gods everywhere they conquer, and they only believe in their gods because they are born there. The other guy can’t handle it, he is still stuck in his reality that if he doesn’t pray to Pino, his boots will literally fall his feet. This is how people still are, except they believe that if they don’t eat organic food, they’ll get sick, or, if they don’t vote Republican, they will be forced to eat organic food. It’s all bollocks.
This is my rough script of it
The Egyptians… The Egyptians, they didn’t know who Pino was. They didn’t have a god or goddess of the boot, and the Celts have boots, but I bet you they don’t know who Pino is, and… now, this is my point… why is Pino only interested in our boots?
Boots are important, and we give thanks to Pino, and our boots don’t fall apart. (Philo shakes his head) So we say a prayer to him and Pino keeps our boots shipshape. I mean, look at them. My boots look great, and they’re really comfy right now.
You’re missing the point. The Egyptians have Horus the god of war, a falcon-headed man with a red and white crown. We have Mars. Now, all it would take for me to believe in Horus, to worship Horus rather than Mars, is to be born in Egypt, If I’m born in Egypt I instantly think that Mars is bollocks, and even if he’s not bollocks, he’s nowhere near as powerful and amazing as Horus. Don’t you see? Everywhere we go, it’s different.
(B – intensely attentive the whole time) I think I know what you mean.
Good. If we think Horus is bollocks and they think Mars is bollocks… maybe both are bollocks. Maybe it’s all bollocks, and maybe my boot is just my boot, and if it breaks, it’s not because I’ve offended Pino, it’s just my boot broke, and that’s all.
(B takes this in). Of course there’s Pino. There’s always been Pino. There’s always been Serapis.
But what if there hasn’t?
Stop now.
Brutus takes a toke of something from the witch.
(Philo gets up and holds his arms out to the ceiling). … I slayed my best friend! I took a blade and severed his head from his body! Send a thunderbolt and strike me dead! Do it now for Brutus to behold! (waits, nothing, cries)
Whoa
Do you see?
I want you to stop talking. Stop talking. Don’t say another word
We’re alone Brutus. We are alone.
