Modern gods.

All right. Here it is. The single gayest piece of thing I've ever seen. And of all places, above the sink in my grandmother's kitchen.

Despite my past importunings, she's kept it there, insistent that my uncle will give her glory-halleluiah if he comes home to find it down, or (if I'd had my way) dropped indecorously into the toilet. Fact is, I've come around to it--enough to give it half-friendly, half-reverential taps as I fill the tea kettle. So it stays, winking at the blushing ceramic rooster across the room, keeping the cliffs of tea cups from caving in, and dancing over the dishwater like some jaunty Triton. All to allow passage of my grandmother's grey curly head as she raises her sails and gazes into the Backyardlands.