Do you have faith, Shadow? Do you know me? Do you know what I am? Do you want to know my name? This is what I am called. I am called Glad-O-War, Grim, Raider, and Third. I am One-eyed. I am also called Highest, and True-Guesser. I am Grimnir, and the Hooded One. I am All-Father, Gondlir, Wand-bearer. I have as many names as there are winds. As many titles as there are ways to die. My ravens are Huginn and Muninn. Thought and Memory. My wolves are Freki and Geri. My horse is the gallowed. I am Odin!
I get it. I do. You're an individualist. Rugged individualism. It simply doesn't work anymore. Brands. Sure. A useful heuristic. But ultimately, everything is all systems interlaced, a single product manufactured by a single company for a single global market. Spicy, medium, or chunky. They get a choice, of course. Of course! But they are buying salsa.
Once upon a time there was a fucking queen. She had it all: the glory, the power. Worshipers eager to give and grateful to receive. Why? Because she had the gift of the gift. The blessing of blessings, hers to bestow. And her place of worship? Oh, that was the place to be. That was the goddamn shit. It was good fucking times. Kings didn’t like that. Kings came one after the other to knock her off her throne. They didn’t last long. When the queen was done with you you were gone. But the kings, they kept coming after her. Our queen’s power which is the power of all women, the power of rebirth and creation, it makes some men kneel in awe and give gifts. But it makes other men angry. And you know it: Anger gets shit done.
Mr. Ibis is one of the Old Gods, and a supporting character in American Gods. He runs Ibis and Jacquel Funeral Parlor with his partner, Mr. Jacquel. Mr. Ibis is also the author of some of the Coming to America stories told throughout the novel.