Conversations with the devil

Devil (D): Good day to you, good sir. How is life treating you.
Man (M): Great. But I had rather you moved on if you don’t mind.
D: Not to worry, I will be moving along soon. My mandate is to touch base with every body every so often. You know, what you want done properly, you have to do it yourself. Good help is hard to find. Just a bunch of idiots I got working for me, they lost me the Great War. But that’s in the past, I have since rolled up my sleeves and see what I have achieved?
By the way, I got to hand it to you – not one of those people that pretend I don’t exist or they have never heard from me when me and my minions are busy whispering in their ears and suggesting all sorts of ways to disappoint the big man to them.
M: Stop with the flattery, you are after all the father of lies.
D: Yes, IĀ hold that title with pride. But I do tell the truth when it suits my purpose. For example, the big man’s got a book He calls the book of life. So I got myself one too (after all, copying is the greatest form of flattery). Personally, I haven’t seen the book (I left before it was spoken into being), but I am sure it’s quite small. Mine on the other hand is huge. Even at that, I have to take care to write in tiny letters, otherwise I would need more than one book and I like to keep all the names of my children in one place. Don’t let anyone deceive you, some say the big man’s book is big also. If true, I am sure he must be writing in size 1000 font to fill all that blank space, while I on the other hand am using a size 6 font to conserve space.
M: What’s in that book of yours and what do you call it?
D: As many names as I myself possess. As you know, I am a man of many colours and I wear more hats than you can shake an accusing finger at.
Some of the book’s names are: the book of the livid (all those people that will be cursing the big man at the second coming – I will get to that in a minute); the book of the languishing (self explanatory – hell hath plenty of fury); the book of the learned (all those who to my utmost delight deny the big man’s very existence); the book of the loveless (no entering heaven without love, love the big man, love your neighbor, etc, etc). I try to use “L” in the name if possible.
M: Well, you really should be moving on, I would assume you are quite busy this time of year?
D: I am busy all the time, no rest for the wicked and all such things.
But a few minute more won’t change the balance of things for me. My final destination is certain, why rush to it I say?
Besides, it seems the big man’s not in a hurry, but the way he counts time is different and I am not privy to his plans like the boy wonder.
M: Boy wonder?
D: That’s Cool-J who can do no wrong. You really should read more of the good book you know.
M: Well, we don’t call him what you just called him now, he is our saviour afterall.
D: Yeah, talking about saving things, the trio pulled a fast one on me. Made me look bad like the Pharisees and the Sadducees. You know I read all those predictions and inspite of how well I knew the big man, I couldn’t take it literarily. It all sounded like some 3rd rate fiction and I said to myself, wow, the big man’s really outdone himself this time. I thought it was all allegory and such. You know parables, blah blah. So I thought I would just see off the boy wonder and all would well (or unwell depending on your point of view with world) and then He went and pulled the Second Coming out of the hat. Is that fair, I ask you? I can just see the big man saying “Who’s your daddy now”. Well, I got my own children too!
M: Well, seeing that He created everything there is in existence, you’ve got to agree He is entitled to some elbow room to manavuer.
D: Sshh! Rhetorical question.
No one’s disputing that he created everything, but one assumed this was a level playing field and he went and started playing “favorites”
M: Well, I wouldn’t call sacrificing your only son “playing favorites”
D: Sshh! Rhetoraical statement. No answer required.
M: Not to appear to be saying I know the bible more than you (which I really should), but I know you know about the potter and the vessel.
D: Hell yes, you don’t know the book as I do and I would be glad if you don’t even try. I study the book like a lawyer studies past cases – looking for precedence and loopholes. And I tell you that old testament had more loops than a snake can twist its spine into. It was called the law and people fell foul of it at every turn to my utmost satisfaction. Then boy wonder showed up and reduced the canon to 3, which gave all you sinners the ultimate loophole by which to escape the final judgment. I was sad for a millenia or so, but I am happy to see that the take up rate of this stupendous (even if I say so myself) offer is below my wildest expectations and falling all the time. There are some spikes here and there when some goody 2 shoes push for a revival or two, but generally, it’s less than I could hope for which is a good thing in a twisted sort of logic.
And what myself and the big man could have achieved together! All I wanted was a piece of the action and he wouldn’t give an inch! So what’s an individual to do when his pride has been given such a denting?
So now, I am reduced to going to and fro to convert the constituents to my way of seeing things. The margins are far better now though. But still, every time there is a dispute and I show up before the big man, boy wonder is always there to raise an objection. He even objects to my objections! And inevitably, I am always overruled! The fact that the man hasn’t lost once smells fishy to me and raises the specter of favoritism again (or it should). It doesn’t help at all that I seem to be the only one that see things my way. My point is that going by the law of probability, I should at least win some of these duels!
M: I must point out that from what you said, not all cases are disputed?
D: Well, even if I say so myself (nothing wrong with a little pride in ones handiwork), quite a lot are slam-dunk-it’s-in-the-kitty, but that’s not the point. I want more! More of the living and the dead!
And speaking of death, how come you let the big man deceive you that you have to die to receive eternal life? Does that make logical sense to a schooled man such as yourself? Why deny the inevitable. Men should embrace the inescapable. Death is the end of all things. Live for and in the moment!
M: You are the one trying to decieve and confuse me. Just like a seed dies and then is reborn in abundance, so is it necessary for a man to die. Death is a translation. A right of passage between this life and another, better life.
D: Come ON! A little give and take makes the world go round! Give a little!
D: Well, there goes my alarm clock. I have spent too much time here already with nothing to show for it. A hard working man like myself has got to put in a hard day’s work to bring in a bountiful harvest. So I have to move on now. You didn’t exactly give an inch this time so I can only hope for better when next we cross paths. See you around. Cheerio.
M: I hope not.
D: Nothing you can do about it. I got in the last word and I am no longer listening. Cheers.

Wash those hands!

Wash those hands! Please! I beg you in the name of all that you hold dear!
I think the blame for this should be laid squarely at the doorfront of people’s parents. Grown up men (and possibly women – I can’t tell since I am not permitted “next door” for obvious reasons) finish using the toilet, zip up and just head out the door! And the only thing I can think of is pity the unfortunate bas***ds he is going to shake hands with and f**k the bas***d himself! No, I am not a ball gazer, but I will definitely watch you on your way out the door. The question is “is he or is he not going to?” and more often than not I am disappointed.

Then I start thinking of “6 degrees of separation” – the theory that only 5 people separate any given pair of people. How does that come into this you ask? Well, if for some reason the stars line up and those 5 people end of meeting in sequence and shaking hands on that particular day (how likely is that?) I could end up with the reminant of the retard’s urine on my hands. For a lot of people, the last drop doesn’t just end up in their pants, the penultimate drop ends up on their hands.

Well, there is only one thing to be done. I have decided to start acosting people and asking them politely to wash their hands before leaving the rest room. Yes, I know the territory is fraught with danger but if it’s only a blackeye now and then, I think the benefits are worth it. Why my fixation with washing hands after the act? Well, I don’t mind falling ill on account of my own sins (and I tell you those are more than enough) but I don’t want some other person’s “g” warts growing on the inside of my cheek just because the retard won’t do the needful after a visit to the loo. And no, I am not related to Howard Hughes (but I won’t mind having some of the millions he left behind). Please if anyone is considering sueing me, kindly send a one-way plane ticket to America. If we are going to do that dance, let’s do it in God’s own country.

I have of course long planned to start carrying a little loo black book (LLBB) in which I will blacklist anyone guilty of the above crime. So the next time you stretch your hand out to shake me, I may decide I have an itch I must scratch at that very moment or pretend to have my hand stuck in my pocket for some reason.
So like the Mafia I will blacklist you, blacklist your family, blacklist your friends, blacklist your colleagues and the little mutt that you call your dog. Did you say Omerta? What’s that? I should keep silent about it? Well, bleep that and while you are at it wash those bleeping hands will you? In the meantime, I tell on you to everybody! And tell your mongrel too! The next time you offer him food and he looks balefully at you with rheumy eyes and walks away, he is not ill, he just knows that like a true bodyguard, he will give his life to protect you, but he does mind licking your balls.

So wash those hands or else you will be an inglorious entry in my LLBB!