Lighten Up – You May Be a Yuppie Pagan If…

You May Be a Yuppie Pagan If…

Your BMW stands out among the Toyotas and VWs at the Grand Coven.

You have a three-piece ritual robe.

Your ritual preparation includes stopping at the dry cleaner.

The Priestess sends the ritual wine back to the cellar.

You have considered calling the quarters by telephone.

You purchase astrological charts for companies listed on the NASDAQ.

You use an alphanumeric pager in circle to represent Air.

You want to use the  Weber Gas Grill  as the ritual bonfire.

You actually buy an Eostara bonnet each year.

You ask your bank for a VISA Gold Card with Stonehenge depicted on its face.

You try to break a $100 bill in the donation pot at a public circle.

The ritual wine is more European than your tradition.

Your ritual robe has no cord because you’ve gone cellular.

Ritual is postponed due to a bad hairpiece day.

You worry that you don’t have a robe that goes well with bare feet.

Jet-lag is a common excuse for being late to coven.

Perrier is the only water you will tolerate in the West.

You initiate your lawyer, insurance agent, and cardiologist just to be on the safe side.

Ritual was canceled because the  CD player  is in the shop.

You never do a healing ritual for your car.

You have a cute little alligator sewn on the breast pocket of your ritual robe.

Perfect love and perfect trust in your coven oath are annotated with footnotes and conditions.

You have a notarized pre-handfasting agreement.

Your first degree initiation had valet parking.

Spilled wax really matters to you.

You have a Ginsu athame.

Cakes and wine for a dozen sets you back $139.

Your coven is known in the community as “The Rich Corinthians.”

You view drawing-down as being the Account Executive to the Gods.

You worry that it would be inappropriate to do Yule at your summer house.

Not everyone gets to use the “good” chalice.

Your ritual bath is a Jacuzzi.

You don’t do astral projection, frequent flyer miles are so much easier.

The gardener spends more time in your outdoor temple than you do.

Your familiar is leased.

You stop at the 7-11 to pick up a half cord of firewood for the bonfire.

You are offended by the “We are the old people…” chant ever since the facelift.

You shopped for a ritual staff and came back with two MBAs and an administrative assistant.

Five-fold kiss or not, the thought of lips on your Guccis turns you on.

You would invite the coven to your new house but, well, they’re just so messy.

You have not read The Spiral Dance and are waiting for it to be made into a movie.

You had a pocket added to your ritual robe for your cellular phone.

You would go to Pagan festivals if they would just hold them at a nice resort.

Invoking the spirit of fire is expressly forbidden by your townhouse covenants.

You wouldn’t use a script in ritual, that’s what the laptop computer on the altar is for.

If “In the cool of the evening, we used to gather…” makes you think of getting in a late 18 holes.

Your ritual tools are itemized on your homeowners insurance.

Your car payment is more than your priestess’ monthly take home pay.

You wear paste replicas of your ritual jewelry to rituals.

After casting the circle you feel compelled to click that alarm thing on your keychain.

You have a tattoo designed by Nybor and paid for the rights to the design.

You have both the  Jerry Garcia  and Tim Leary hand painted collector’s edition plates on your altar.

The square footage of your ritual circle is a status thing.

Great carpeting is next to godliness.

It just doesn’t seem right to call upon the spirits of water without a twist of lime.

Your covenstead has gone condo.

You seldom are asked to call North since everyone knows you just don’t do dirt.

You have to hurry the Yule ritual along, the plane for Aspen leaves in an hour.

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