It’s Friday the thirteenth.
I was born on a Friday the thirteenth. I’m tremendously puffed up about it.
But you would expect that from a woman who wears a dragon tattoo and likes to rattle stereotypes, wouldn’t you?
Firstly, I think the notion of it being an unlucky day is ridiculous. No, forget about it being a superstition, even as a belief it is a wholly unsound and illogical. You know why? Jesus Christ was crucified on a Friday. And there were 13 people present at his last supper. This much is well-known. No one knows anything about whether it happened to be the 13th of any month. So the premise of ‘Friday the thirteenth’ the day doesn’t have anything to do with this epoch and rather unfortunate event.
Now thirteen is a number with some mystical significance, both in the East and the West. Outside of the Christian belief system, everything else so-called ‘pagan’ appears to lean towards believing in 13 as a number of big things, specifically big changes.
Well then, how come we’re still hanging onto to a centuries-old superstition, one that isn’t even factually correct? But don’t listen to me, I must be the devil’s own offspring…a Friday the thirteenth child after all. Did I ever tell you I have a pair of almost-horns on my head? Yes, I did. But I didn’t mention that they grow during the full moon, did I?