What Separates Me from Pagan Godhood

A careful combing of the works of Ovid, Homer, Stirluson, and Marvel Comics has convinced me that only three things separate me from pagan godhood.

What keeps me from joining the Norse Gods in Asgard?

First:
When Thor swings his hammer in a circle around his head, he can create whirlwinds, draw down thunder, breach dimensional barriers, and travel through time.

When I swing my hammer in a circle around my head, I annoy my wife and scare the cats. Not one whirlwind.

Stupid hardware store clerks! I specifically asked for the enchanted hammer that only the righteous could lift and that could...oh, never mind.


Second:
I lack the fuzzy slippers of the mighty god of wisdom, war, battle, and death, Odin.
How could I possibly have them? They are wrapped in mystery! Do they have vinyl non-skid soles? Or are they perhaps rubber? I do not and cannot know! And thus I am denied divinity!

Cruel fates!

Third:
I could never get away with wearing this hat. It's far too rock star for a puny mortal such as myself.

Were I to dare such a feat of fashion splendor, surely the jealous gods would strike me down as a threat to their fabulousness.

Tempt not the gods, my brothers. Do not attempt to wear such a hat.