As a minor god in the hierarchy of mythology, I have been around for a very long time. Just to give you an idea, I hung out with Zeus’ and Oden’s grandparents. Yep, a long time, thus I was around for some of the greatest milestones in human development.

For example, I was on the subcommittee that came up with the basics of sex. We thought we would come up with a funny way to procreate and it would end there. Surprisingly, mortals invested an enormous amount of time and energy into it. We thought how weird because the whole procreation thing really was an afterthought. Granted, we are gods, but we never imagined how the French would run wild with it. That little sex idea led to a slew of other deities, cave drawings, Roman events, and the Internet.

I am way off topic here.

My point has to do with my crowning achievement, yeast. Yeah, yeast is my pride and joy. Where would we be without it? Whenever anyone says “Man, you should have been there…” or “I did what?” or the infamous “I called who and told them WHAT?” yeast has played a roll. So many stories would have gone untold without the miracle microbe that turns sugar into alcohol. That idea was all mine. For that, you would think I would get a mention in at least one of the many anthologies written by the scholars teaching at some of the most under-attended universities in the land. Apparently, I didn’t even warrant a footnote.

Here’s what happened. I had invited Dionysus, the Greek grape god, over for poker. A few of these yeast spores flew into his grape juice. Six months later, he took another sip and found himself in Egypt dancing with Nefertiti on the temple wall. Believe me, tongues were a-wagging after that. Last we heard, he was living in Rome under the pseudonym Bacchus.

Dionysus/Bacchus, or whomever he is known as, knew he was onto something. He ran with it leaving me behind to clean up the hangover. I come up with the creation of yeast, our little sugar-eating, alcohol-pooping buddy, and who ends up on the “A” list for the deity parties but old what’s his name! Next thing you know, Zeus is dressed up as a swan and Aphrodite, well, let’s just say her poor, hardworking husband, god of metal working, Hephaestus, never got over her becoming the goddess of “love you more”.

Then they started to call it the nectar of the gods, plural, but they all know, it was my idea! I was the only god who, during a moment of leisure, thought what can poop out a mind-altering substance? Where were the rest of those jokers? They were nowhere to be found until the party ended.

I can’t blame it all on them. Once Dionysus’s mother, Semele, took the enhanced grape juice to one of her mortal Bunko games it became all the rage. Spreading to the legions of Romans who later became the Italians who carried the nectar with them as they strolled throughout Europe. The madness quickly spread. The Normans who later became the English were the only ones to realize it was a joke. They played along with Gin.

The Barbarian hordes, at one time a peaceful agrarian people, who made hops soup until the Romans forced them into a Bocce Ball tournament with Martinis. That was enough to push the hordes over the edge and we all know what became of hops soup. The hordes were mad at the Romans who were mad at the Normans who were mad at the Gauls. The Irish who no one would bother with created whisky which took on a life of its own. That was a good thing for the rest of the world or we all would be Irish now. Come to think of it.

Anyway, the New World got wind of this and forced trillions of my friends to work overtime to come up with Corn Liquor which has been blamed for many bad choices, like the mullet. Fortunately, they redeemed themselves with light beer which barely taxes yeast’s imagination. It’s been fun watching tennis moms and frat boys have one, share one, and then spill one. Being a minor deity does have its advantages.

Yeast, can you believe that something so simple is still as popular as ever, taking over the world. Ah, what fools these mortals be!