#anyway yeah how do i turn all that into corporate lingo

[your-greatest-queen]

I'm tryna update my resume and make it look better than it is; so how do I make "looked after my bestie's cat and her sister's dog for two summers" sound appealing to hiring managers? ;w;

[natrogersfics]

After All - Chapter 1/5

Cover art by @faith2nyc​ Read on AO3

​In the history of work-life balances, The Daily’s has to be the most bizarre of any company, and Natasha knows that it has nothing to do with the reasonable work hours Pepper is a stickler for implementing. One would truly be hard-pressed to find another work environment where the people get along so seamlessly. Sure, they have their disagreements, and their instincts are always to engage in debate rather than shy away from it, but for the most part, the second the clock strikes five p.m., all spats are forgotten in lieu of brainstorming which watering hole to head to (Dalton’s, always Dalton’s).   

To say that her coworkers are like family seems like a banality on the surface, the type of line an HR Department would print in the welcome packet for a new employee before their first day on the job. But as she stands by the doorway of Tony and Pepper’s living room, watching the very people she works with on a daily basis joyously mingle with members of her actual family, she does not know how else she could possibly define them. These people are the best of the best in the respective subjects, their combined accomplishments the envy of anyone with even a scintilla of ambition to succeed in the media. And yet here they are, holding plates filled with rainbow cake and sporting unicorn party hats, all because these happen to be her daughter’s latest obsession and they’re all powerless to deny her – especially on her first birthday.

In some ways, she knew they would be fond of Isabel, but she never expected them to adore her quite like this – for Thor to bring her a strawberry cupcake every eleventh to celebrate each new month of her life, or for Stephen and Christine to insist that they come over so the latter can personally perform routine checkups, or for Tony to customize a double stroller for when he takes both Isabel and Maria to his workshop. What’s more, they’ve all rallied around her as well, none of them ever more than a text message away when she’s in need of anything, which proved invaluable as she navigated motherhood for the first time. 

This outpour of love from a group of people who are not by any stretch obligated to go so above and beyond is an anomaly, she knows. It’s going to take some kind of miracle for her to find another group of genuinely kind people who would go up to bat for her and Isabel. And it’s that very thought that wrests the sadness she’s been trying to keep at bay all day as she ponders how this may be the last time in a long while that they will gather like this. 

“Are you sure you have to go?”   

The question breaks her out of her reverie, and she turns to see Darcy next to her, holding up two forks in one hand and a plate of cake in the other. She chuckles, reaching for the other fork as they both take a bite and moan at the perfection that is Sarah Roger’s baking. “I already paid the security deposit on the flat we’re staying in,” she says. “So that’s going to be a yes.”

“Flat, huh? Look at you, getting in on the lingo,” Darcy teases before groaning. “But until your butt is officially across the pond, it is an apartment. And it is take-out, not take-away. Which, coincidentally, we happen to have the best of here. Where are you going to get your Nom Wah fix in London, Nat, huh? Where?”

“They have a Chinatown there too, last I checked,” she counters, laughing when Darcy rolls her eyes. “Besides, I have to go anyway on the account of me being out of a job. I do have a child to support, you know.”

“First of all, the only reason you’re out of a job is because you got a big promotion,” Darcy says matter-of-factly. “Stupid corporate ladder.”

“Big words coming from the newly minted editor of The Daily’s International section,” she says, suddenly brimming with pride.

“Only because I learned everything from you,” Darcy says quietly before sighing in concession. “Ugh! You better not forget us when you’re out there being a hotshot editor-in-chief. And you better make sure Boss Baby doesn’t forget who her favorite is!”

“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” she says, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of the first person to truly become her constant at work. “You are many things, but forgettable is not one of them.”

“Yeah, true,” Darcy concedes easily, causing them both to laugh.

“Speaking of the Boss Baby though,” she says, checking her watch. “It’s almost her bedtime, so I better go make sure none of her grandparents have let her eat all the icing.” 

“I think what you really have to be concerned about is an aunt and uncle helpless over her charms,” Darcy says, smiling knowingly. “Last I saw her she was in the kitchen with Bucky and Wanda.”

She’s about to thank her, but before she can, Darcy’s already running towards the center of the living room at Thor’s roaring announcement that a game of Pictionary is about to commence. For a second, she allows herself a moment to watch the pandemonium unfold as her friends – her fully grown adult friends, no less – vie for the positions of team captains. “Hooligans,” she says, shaking her head fondly before making a beeline for the kitchen. She pokes her head in, finding Bucky and Wanda poring over the cheese and cold cuts selection laid out on the island before knocking on the wall to get their attention. “Any of you know where Izzie is?”

“Nat!” Bucky exclaims, “you have to try this cheese. It smells like something died in it, but it’s so damn delicious!”

She tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth tugging up in amusement. “Maybe later, Buck.” 

“Ignore him. He’s inhaled too much cheese,” Wanda says over the rim of her wine glass before pointing upwards. “Steve took her upstairs for a diaper change.”

“Thank you,” she says, turning to leave. She makes it to the stairs, climbing it two steps at a time until she reaches the top and stops in front of the framed collage of Maria on the wall. As her eyes scan the plethora of pictures, she can’t help but smile. She’s seen this frame countless times before, can practically name where each photo was taken and how old her goddaughter is in every one of them, but for some reason, she finds herself lingering before it, as if she needs to recommit everything to her memory lest she forget. She gives herself another minute, and with a sigh, forces herself to look away and walk down the familiar path to the nursery.  

“Do you know how much Daddy loves you?”

Steve’s words stop her dead in her tracks, and through the door left cracked open, she catches a glimpse of him sitting on the rocking chair with Isabel across his lap, their daughter staring up at him as he feeds her a bottle. The sight of them gazing affectionately at each other punches the breath out of her lungs, and it’s only by instinct that she moves out of view, pressing her back against the nearest wall.

“I don’t even know if I have the right words to describe how much,” she hears Steve confess with a little chuckle, to which Isabel coos, and in her heart of hearts, she knows that she should not be eavesdropping on this moment – it isn’t hers, and yet, she finds herself unable to move. “I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t understand me all that well yet, so I have some time to figure them out...” He sighs, long and winded. “Though, if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I ever will. There couldn’t possibly be words in existence that will encapsulate how much I love every little inch of you.” Steve’s voice cracks by the end, followed closely by a sniffle. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, fig. And I’ll call you all the time, so please don’t forget Daddy while you’re over there, okay? You’re my whole world, baby girl…”   

The hallway and the stairs and the foyer are all a blur as she bolts, the air around her suddenly too thick. She makes it out the front door, but by the time she gets to the bottom step of the brownstone, her legs feel too heavy to keep herself upright and she slumps down, placing her head in her hands as the Summer night’s air blows by and the sound of the traffic on the Upper East Side rings ambiently around her. She sighs. Steve’s words weren’t even meant for her to hear. It shouldn’t affect her this way – shouldn’t hurt her this way – especially when they’re full of adulation for their daughter. And yet, it’s as if she’s taken another dagger to her already crippled heart.

“Natasha.”

She looks up in time to see her mother take a seat next to her, and in the warmth of Melinda’s embrace, she finally lets the tears fall. “Would you believe me if I said I was just tired?”

“Oh, Nat,” Melinda says, reaching over to thumb her tears away. “You don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”

“Only I do,” she says, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost immediately. “He’s had a year. Heck, he’s had more than that to say something, give me a sign.” Melinda’s expression softens at her words, and she knows that it’s because despite offering her a way out only moments ago, Melinda’s one of the few people who knows she’s right. It’s been too long since that fateful night she asked Steve if she had a reason to stay, only to be met by silence. It was damning then, and it’s even more so in the time that’s passed since they’d agreed to postpone both her move to London and the implementation of their custody agreement until Isabel turned one. If he wanted her, if he felt even a fraction for her of what she felt for him, he had countless opportunities and ample time to say so. But now here they are, their daughter past her first year of life, and a day away from each of them getting her six months out of the year. She shakes her head. “He loves her so much. That’s more than I could have ever asked for, and in some ways, that’s always been the deal.” She turns to Melinda, smiling sadly. “I can’t keep hoping anymore. I have to move on.”  

With a sad smile, Melinda drops a kiss to her temple. “Okay.” 

In the months leading up to this day, there were countless times Natasha had caught herself imaging how it would play out. She expected a tear or two to be shed – Sarah and Melinda being the most obvious culprits – but at the very least, she thought the massive crowds at JFK would prove a compelling enough reason for them to not only keep it together, but also to keep their goodbyes short and sweet. But here, on the tarmac in Teterboro, with the Stark Industries jet before her and her entire family close by, she realizes that this is quickly morphing into her worst-case scenario – drawn out goodbyes, too many sad eyes, and her heart feeling all too heavy in her chest.

“You tell T’Challa that I will never forgive him for this.”

Pepper’s words elicit a laugh from her. “Oh please,” she says, scoffing even as she wraps her arms tighter around Pepper and pretends not to feel the warmth of the tear that drips down to her shoulder. “If you were at all capable of holding a grudge, the three of us would’ve stopped being friends long ago.”

“That was before he plotted to steal my best friend from me,” Pepper mumbles, making them both laugh. “Do you realize that this is the first time since college that we’re not going to live within a subway’s ride from each other?”

“We’ll drop by for Christmas,” she offers quietly, unable to trust that her voice won’t falter if she dares answer the question directly. Over Pepper’s shoulder, her eyes quickly glance at the group by the stairs of the jet – Sarah, Nick and Melinda, and Bucky and Wanda all gathered around Steve and Isabel – and she finds herself relieved that she had already said her lengthy goodbyes to most of them last night. She takes a step back from Pepper as she says, “These next six months will fly by.”

“Alright, alright,” Tony interjects as he comes up next to them with Maria on his hip. “Let’s not act like there’s not going to be a Stark Industries emergency in the London office in two weeks that only the CEO can solve.” He eyes Pepper and then her knowingly before nodding towards the jet. “Best not to misuse company property more than we already are.”

She rolls her eyes, breaking away from Pepper’s embrace completely. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the one who insisted on this whole spectacle?”

“You were gonna fly commercial,” Tony says, his expression twisting in disgust. “We’re not savages, Red.”  

Her lips quirk up at that. To anyone else, Tony’s quip drips with arrogance and reeks of privilege from a life defined by exuberant wealth. But she’s known the man for over a decade now, and though most of the time his tact leaves much to be desired, she understands him enough to know how to read between the lines. Their friendship has never been defined by heartfelt tête-à-têtes, and part of her is glad that he doesn’t seem keen on starting that now. Nevertheless, she knows that making sure she and Isabel are nothing short of exceedingly comfortable on an already difficult trip, is Tony’s ultimate way of showing just how much he cares. 

“Come here,” she says, stepping forward to engulf both him and Maria in a hug.  

“Oh, we’re doing this?” Tony says. “Okay, we’re really doing this.” She ignores him, but it only takes a beat before she feels his free arm wrap around her as well, squeezing back. When they pull away, he has his signature smirk on his face. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She chuckles just as she drops a kiss to Maria’s forehead. “Bye sweetheart,” she tells her goddaughter before turning back to Tony, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does that list even exist?”

Tony winks at her, prompting Pepper to shake her head at the both of them. 

“Indeed, it does not,” Pepper says, linking arms with her. “Come on.”

The pit in her stomach that she’s been trying to ignore since she got up this morning rears its ugly head once more. It’s for the best, she reminds herself. These four words have become her mantra ever since she uttered them that night in Steve’s office when she had first given him the custody agreement, and though her heart had never felt as eviscerated as it had in that moment, the fact that she’s only minutes away from jetting off to a different continent is testament to the fact that there’s truth in it. That, despite all that she’d hoped would change, this is how their lives must play out if they are to make their arrangement work. She sucks in a breath at the thought, at the finality of it all, and as she huffs out, the reassuring squeeze from Pepper grounds her enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Sarah is the first to notice them as they near, and she’s quick to offer her a warm smile before turning to Steve, whispering in his ear and giving Isabel one last kiss. 

“Be safe, darling,” Sarah says when she makes her way over to her, cupping her face in her hands. “And please, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” she says, smiling earnestly. “Thank you, Sarah.” Sarah’s barely stepped away from her when she feels two pairs of arms wrap around her simultaneously, and she can’t help but laugh when she finds herself sandwiched between Nick and Melinda. “Sucking up all my oxygen here, guys.”

“Call us the second you land,” Melinda orders. “And not a second later, you hear? We have your flight plan.”

“Or by God, I will order an F-35 to come find you,” Nick adds.  

She scoffs. “You’ve been saying that since I was sixteen.”

“It was true then and it’s even truer now that you’re taking my grandbaby with you,” Nick says, eyeing her pointedly. “Don’t try me.”

“Fine,” she says, chuckling softly. “We’ll FaceTime you the second we land. How’s that?”

“Excellent,” Melinda says, hugging her tightly once more. “Our girl, we love you so.”  

“Love you too,” she says to each of them. Wanda and Bucky are last in line, and as she accepts a hug from the former and a kiss on the cheek from the latter, she begins to make her way towards the landing of the stairs where Steve stands cradling a sleeping Isabel. She stops a foot short of them, tucking her hands into her pockets and mustering the best smile she can. “We should get going.”  

Steve nods, turning to nuzzle the top of Isabel’s head. “Be a good girl for momma, okay?” he says, and she has to avert her gaze elsewhere at the way his voice breaks at the end. “Daddy loves you so much, fig.”

Just as she had the night before, she finds herself once again an intruder in a moment she has no business being a part of as she listens to Steve whisper sweet nothings to their daughter. But despite the feeling of being so unwelcome, so unwanted, she swallows it all down along with the lump that’s formed in her throat in an attempt to keep it together. It’s only when she hears Steve mutter a soft okay that she dares look back, watching as he steps forward to place Isabel into her arms. 

“Shh,” she says gently when Isabel stirs at the movement, carefully shifting her so she can rest her head on her shoulder before turning to Steve. “I’ll text you when we land and again when we get to our flat, so you know she’s safe.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, letting a beat pass before shaking his head. “Natasha…”  

For a moment, she can only stand there, letting his utterance of her name hang in the air between them. Where she finds the courage to look in his eyes, she isn’t certain, but she does. The pain in them is clear as the sky above them, but for whom it’s for, she can only surmise. Surely, for being separated for the next six months from their daughter, who’s oblivious to the loaded silence between them as she slumbers peacefully against her. And though she knows she shouldn’t, she lets herself wonder – wish, really – if only for a fraction of a second, and perhaps for the last time, that maybe that pain is for her, too. And that maybe, just maybe, now he would say the words she’s been longing to hear.

Steve sighs, and she holds her breath as he leans down to kiss her cheek. “Knock ‘em dead, Natasha Romanoff.”

Her eyes fall shut at that, and though he’s close enough that she can smell the familiar scent of his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin, they might as well be continents apart already. “Thanks,” she whispers, giving him a final nod before she turns to ascend the stairs.

There’s only the whirr of the jet taxiing towards the runway as she settles further back against the softness of the leather seat. Across her chest, Isabel sleeps peacefully, her curls glowing russet in the sunlight streaming through the window and her weight a welcome distraction from the hollowness burrowing deep inside of her, settling in. By now, she realizes, the sensation is just an old friend. She sighs, running her hand up and down Isabel’s back, holding her closer. “It’s just you and me, fig.”

I’m not freaking out, you are!

Steve’s brow arches as he reads the words in the blue bubble, and he does not waste time pressing down on the file attachment, eagerly waiting for the video to take up the entirety of the screen. Once it does, Isabel comes into view, sporting a gray Dodgers jersey with her hair pulled up in two symmetric pigtails as she clings onto the edge of a coffee table. The sight pulls his lips up into a beaming smile, all but threatening to split his face. 

“Come to momma, fig,” he hears Natasha encourage in the background. “You can do it!”

Despite Natasha’s message alluding to the fact that this had been a fruitful exercise, he finds himself holding his breath as he watches Isabel blink, her eyebrows furrowing in suspicion as if she’s contemplating her mother’s words. On the lower part of the screen, her foot inches forward ever so slightly, though whether it is to test the waters or tease her mother, he can only guess. But then her dubious expression fades as quickly as it had come, making way for a toothy grin, and then his eyes widen as he witnesses her take one wobbly step and then trot the rest of the way.

“Yay!” Natasha cheers, eliciting an elated giggle from Isabel, and he can’t help but laugh along as the camera flips to show Natasha with Isabel now on her lap. “We’re walking!”  

He types back a quick Yes! followed by But also, uh oh! 😬 before pressing play on the video once more, this time watching Isabel walk on her own without the nervousness that had plagued him only moments ago. It seems ridiculous – though he’s willing to bet that most parents feel the same way – but he feels pride surge right through him. Isabel was just beginning to get the hang of walking while her hands were being held up during her first birthday, and now, less than six months later, she’s already cruising along by herself. Time, he muses, truly does zip on by.

Placing his phone down on the counter, he stops to ponder his last thought. If there’s one thing he’s come to realize about time, it is that it can be a real conundrum – moving faster than you wish it would when you least want it to and slowing down to an agonizing crawl when you’re all but begging for it to fly. Only, these two facets seemed to be happening simultaneously in the last six months since his custody agreement with Natasha had taken effect. On one hand, Isabel is growing and changing faster than he can keep up with, becoming her own person with every day that passes. But at the same time, it feels as if his turn to have her, to witness these milestones unfold in real time, is an eternity away.

“I don’t like that face. Not one bit.”

He turns towards the sound of the voice, chuckling when he sees his mother walking into his kitchen, a box from her bakery in hand. “So much for a face only a mother can love.”

“Of course I love that face,” Sarah says, setting the box and her purse down on the island before hopping on the stool next to his. “I made it.” Sarah snickers as he rolls his eyes. “What I don’t love is when it’s all broody and scrunched up” – she points to his head – “means something’s going on up there.”   

With a sigh, he unlocks his phone, opening the video back up before pushing it towards Sarah. His mother squeals upon seeing her granddaughter, picking up the device to get a closer look. 

“She’s gotten so big!” she says, her eyes on the screen. “Goodness, she’s walking. Really walking!”

“She finally fit into the jersey Thor gave her before she was born, too,” he adds, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now it’s just right.” It’s probably the tone of his voice – crestfallen, though he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way – that causes Sarah to look at him, her eyes rueful. He waves off her concern. “I’m fine, ma. Some days are just harder than most. Technology’s great and all, but I still feel like I’m missing so much. And now...”

Sarah reaches over to place her hand over his. “I’m sorry they’re not going to make it for Christmas, darling.” 

“It’s fine,” he repeats. While he isn’t due to have Isabel until after New Years’, with some cajolery from Melinda, Nick, and Pepper, Natasha had agreed that she and Isabel would come visit for Christmas. That’d been the plan even before they left for London almost six months ago, and if he’s being completely honest, it’s been the day he’s been counting down to since. But then an emergency at Natasha’s work came up, preventing her and Isabel from traveling until after the holiday and successfully upending everything he had been looking forward to. He sighs. “It’s still technically Natasha’s time with her and she was being really magnanimous about sharing Izzie for Christmas anyway.” He swipes his hand out, as if to dismiss his melancholy, but even that is half-hearted. “I was just really looking forward to it, you know? Bucky already bought her a beanie with Reindeer antlers that light up and I thought maybe she could still see the Rockefeller tree.”

“Still might,” Sarah says, to which he gives a non-committal nod. “They don’t take it down right away anyway. But have you maybe considered asking Natasha if you can fly there for Christmas?”

“What?” he nearly spits out the word in surprise, tilting his head to the side as he looks at his mother like she’s grown three heads. “What’re- I mean, what in the world makes you think she’d agree to that?”

This time, it’s Sarah’s turn to look at him incredulously. “You two have been getting along great these past few months, haven’t you?”

“We text about Izzie,” he says, “and yes, Natasha’s there when we FaceTime too, but that’s because she has to hold up the phone on the account of Izzie wanting to put everything in her mouth. That is not the same as getting along great.” He sits up straighter, shaking his head. “Besides, spending Christmas together? In London? That’s not even remotely in our-”

“Oh please,” Sarah interrupts. “I don’t care what you two have written down in your contract-”

“Custody agreement,” he corrects.

“Semantics,” Sarah counters. “Like it or not, you and Natasha are forever bonded by the beautiful baby girl you two brought into this world. That makes you family, and families spend Christmas together.” Sarah shrugs, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip and seemingly deliberating her next words. “Unless…”

He looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. “Unless?”

“Steven, hon, you know I don’t like to pry,” Sarah says carefully. “But ever since… well, okay. I suppose I thought that maybe things between you and Natasha… especially after Izzie was born… I thought maybe you two would give it a chance. But then nothing happened, and I said I’d leave you two to it. It’s your lives. But now she’s over there, making a life for herself and you know what? Good on her. But then I see you, and I… It just seems to me like you’re stuck. And I feel like I’ve seen this before, so I have to ask… Do you maybe still have feelings for Natasha?”

His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “That is not what-”

“And that is not an answer.”

“I…” he begins, only to pause to collect his thoughts. “I have had the tremendous opportunity of curating for a successful gallery and overseeing its expansions. And that is on top of my day job at the paper and making sure I am pulling my weight as a co-parent. I’m barely in the same place for five minutes, so quite frankly, ma, by definition I think that’s the opposite of being stuck.” When Sarah’s pointed glance does not let up, he sighs. “Look… if the lack of two more seats at our Christmas table this year is any indication, I’d say my feelings weren’t any good on a one-way street. If I were stuck, I’d still be standing on it, but like I just said...”

Sarah puts her hands up. “Well, if all the hatchets are buried…” she says as she moves off the stool and slings her purse over her shoulder. “No harm in asking then, is there?” She reaches over to the counter, pushing his phone back to him and nodding towards the screen. “You don’t get any of these moments back, Steve. So if there’s any chance you can be a part of them instead of watching from afar, try.” With a smile, she leans in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you Sunday at brunch.”  

Sleep eludes him later that night as he watches the shadows dance across the ceiling, his mind replaying the conversation he had with Sarah. As he ruminates on its substance, he’s suddenly transported back to that night almost two years ago when Natasha had received her award from the Journalists’ Guild. At that point, their relationship had plunged into this strange and confusing pitfall. They had gone from living together as Natasha recovered from her awful fall, falling into domestic bliss as they did, to her serving him a custody agreement in his office seemingly in a blink of an eye. When he approached her that night for a dance, all he truly wanted was to erase the distance and the silence that had grown between them. But sometime in the middle of them swaying along to a soft string tune, she had informed him that she was going to take the job in London, and as he remembers how her words had made him feel then, hurt washes over him anew. She had pulled the rug from underneath him, sending him into free fall that, by the time she was accusing him of having never wanted their child in the first place, and asking him if she had a reason to stay, he was frozen. Speechless. Powerless to stop her from walking away and disappearing into the crowd.

Navigating their relationship after that night was incredibly difficult. They were both hurt, and understandably so, but giving each other space became nearly impossible when Natasha’s pregnancy spurned more health complications. They weren’t grave, thankfully, but it was enough to bring them to the sober realization that regardless of what had transpired between them, they couldn’t let their feelings get in the way of prioritizing the one thing that meant the world to the both of them. And by the time Isabel was born, the effort they’d both put in to make their circumstances work was so much that he told himself that it did not matter that his feelings for Natasha were not only lingering, but also brewing deep – rocking the boat was the last thing the three of them needed.

Further, what he had told his mother hadn’t been a lie. Feelings are no good on a one-way street. Perhaps there was a point where Natasha had felt the same way about him as he felt about her, but that was all moot now. In the end, she had gotten on the plane to London, and though he wanted nothing more than to tell her how he truly felt as they said their goodbyes at the airport, he still did not know with a certainty if that would have been enough. That, his love was a compelling enough reason for her to forego an opportunity that she’d been working towards her whole life. So instead, he told her the one thing he knew she’d do anyway – go and succeed. And if the reviews of the paper she’s helming and their cordial co-parenting relationship are anything to go by, it’s clear that staying mum was the right call. 

It’s then that the merit of Sarah’s earlier argument becomes clear. While spending Christmas together isn’t something they’ve ever discussed, with the both of them moving forward, perhaps there really was no harm in asking. Perhaps what’s in the past can stay in the past. Perhaps Christmas didn’t have to be so somber this year.Before he can change his mind, he reaches for his phone. 

Natasha holds her breath as she creeps out into the hallway, relief crashing down on her like a ton of bricks when she successfully clicks the door shut without hearing a cry. With a sigh, she brings a hand up to the bridge of her nose, pinching down and letting her eyes fall shut in exhaustion. Isabel’s been restless the last couple of days, waking up intermittently and distraught for reasons that she cannot seem to figure out. To top it all off, despite the holidays fast approaching, her workload only seems to grow exponentially, and with the recent lack of sleep, the fatigue is getting harder to stave off.With a heavy exhale, she straightens up, willing herself back to her living room and to where she left her laptop on the couch. 

The words on the open document on her screen are ones she’s read enough times that she can recite them verbatim from memory, and yet, as she tries to come up with the next sentence, her mind draws a blank. With a groan, she pushes her screen down shut. Writing has always been her outlet of choice, allowing her to clear her head by losing herself in the topic of her current piece, and for it to fail her now when she’s most in need of a catharsis, she can’t help but feel even more untethered.The ding of her phone cuts through the silence, and she looks towards where it’s resting on the cushion to see an email notification pop up. 

Picking it up, she glides a finger over the bubble on the screen and sighs when she sees the subject line read: 

URGENT – Meeting w/ PR tomorrow

Without reading the contents, she closes her email app, deciding that at two in the morning, she just does not have the mental bandwidth to deal with any more work woes. But as she does, her photo stream appears, and a video begins to play. The camera zooms in, showing Steve carefully lifting a six-month-old Isabel up to blow bubbles on her belly, and she stops to watch Isabel giggle. In her desperation to soothe Isabel tonight, she had decided to play the video as she rocked her to sleep, and much to her relief, it had worked. Within minutes, and with Steve’s voice on loop in the background, Isabel had finally gone to bed.It’s when the frame switches to Steve and Isabel playing peek-a-boo that she finds her throat tightening. When she had moved six months ago, she had believed that not only was it the right decision, but also that the challenge of a new job and readjusting to a different country would aid her in moving on. But as Isabel’s soft coos and Steve’s laughter from the video fills the room, the sounds only seem to further underscore how big and empty her flat feels.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the audio cutting off, and she glares at the screen in anticipation of another work-related email, but her eyes only widen in surprise when she sees a text from Steve.

Hey, do you have time to talk tomorrow morning (late afternoon your time)? Just had a question…

As she reads the text, her eyebrows furrow. While they communicate several times a week, it’s only so he can video chat with Isabel or so she can send him Isabel’s latest photo. It’s not like him to shoot her a text out of the blue, and it’s even more so unusual for him to be vague about the subject. She bites her lip as she contemplates a reply, typing something out only to delete it. By her fourth attempt, her mind begins to race with a deluge of questions. With a huff, she puts her phone down, and finds herself almost grateful when she catches the porch light next door flicker on through her window. Hurriedly, she gets up, running through her foyer and hastily throwing her door open just as her neighbor is about to place their key into the lock. “Any chance you’re up for a nightcap?” she asks, biting her lip. 

Her neighbor turns, looking every bit as tired as any reasonable person returning home at this hour should. Nevertheless, he smirks. “When you’re offering?” he asks. “Always.”

“Long week, huh?” she asks later on as they sit on her couch, each clutching a glass of wine.

“Endless,” he says as he angles to face her. “Two back-to-back shifts with a twelve-hour surgery somewhere in between that nearly went critical, to be exact.”

“Nothing the great Dr. Laufeyson couldn’t handle, I’m sure,” she says, eyeing him knowingly.

“The patient survived, if that’s what you’re alluding to,” Loki says, prompting them both to laugh.

Her gaze falls to her wine, watching the dark liquid swirl as she rotates the glass in her hand. “Must be nice, though,” she says, “knowing what you do saves lives.” She looks over at him as she adds, “That of children, especially.”

“It is,” he agrees. “They’re wonderful and pure, as I’m sure you know. Not yet privy to the trickery and harshness of the world at large like we adults are... But that’s a conversation for a different time.” He takes a sip of his wine before arching a brow at her. “So, tell me, Miss Romanoff. What is it that has you keeping me from my bed?”

She scoffs. “Didn’t realize I had the power to make you do things you didn’t want to do.”

“I’d do anything for you and that little angel of yours,” he says before shrugging. “You know that.”

Loki’s words bring a smile to her face. For all her struggles in the last six months, meeting and getting to know him has been one of the bright spots that’s kept her going. That, and the fact that he lives next door and is up at ungodly hours like she is, is convenient – especially on nights like this when she could really use someone to talk to. It’s with that reminder that she sighs and goes about catching him up on everything that’s been plaguing her mind since the last time she saw him. When she finally gets to Steve’s text, she hands him her phone. “I’m probably just over analyzing it,” she says. “For all I know, he probably just wants to FaceTime with Izzie more.”

“Then why not just get to it then?” Loki challenges. “Natasha, let’s be honest about what this is really about.”   

She shakes her head. “I just said that he-”

“I don’t mean about him,” Loki says, sighing when she stares confusedly at him. “You’ve basically just admitted to missing the man-”

“I said no such thing!” 

Loki shoots her a withering look. “Do you’ve any idea how many parents deny how much sugar they’ve fed their kids as I hold the results of their child’s blood work in my hands?” He scoffs. “It’s easy to say things, Natasha, but you cannot deny what is so. I assume you sulking in the dark and watching videos of him and Izzie aren’t just because you’re feeling nostalgic.”

“What do you want me to say, Loki?” she asks. “That I’m freaking out about this because I’m... lonely? Tired? Tipsy?” She chuckles, but it’s humorless, hollow. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she adds, “or that moving thousands of miles away was for nothing seeing as I’m still so pathetically in love with someone who clearly doesn’t love me back and who can seemingly pull me apart with a single text?”

“Only if that’s the truth,” Loki says, making her shoulders sag in defeat. “Natasha, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He takes her hand in his, causing her to look at him. “I simply wanted you to be honest about what’s at play here.” He sighs. “I don’t claim to know what or how he feels. And for that matter, what you truly do, and I will not pry. But what I do know is that you are smart, strong, gorgeous, and any man would be lucky to have you. The ones that don’t see that? They’re idiots and they don’t deserve you.” Her lips quirk at that, and he smiles. “Remember that the next time you think one text from someone can pull you apart, hm?”

Loki punctuates his words with a gentle squeeze to her hand, and as she lets the gravity of his sentiment sink in, she nods. “Thanks,” she says, laughing when he only winks and brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles.  

By the time Loki bids her goodnight and she makes it to bed, her mind feels a little clearer. Maybe she’s right and that whatever it is Steve wants to ask her is something as small as wanting more time to talk to Isabel, but the reality is that she’ll never know if she doesn’t find out. And if it turns out to be something that takes a wrecking ball to her heart all over again, if what Loki said is anything to go by, then maybe she isn’t giving herself enough credit. She has made it this far – scars and all.

With that in mind, she reaches for her phone and searches for Steve’s message to type out her reply.

Sure! Talk to you then.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

[satanseternalbenevolence-blog]

Memoirs of a Satan©

Hi, my name is Scott (You say, “Hi Scott”) and I am the new Satan. I have inherited the mantle and power of the Antichrist to do good in the World. Yes, you read that correctly, to do good in the World (more on this later). I don't know why I was chosen, maybe my core beliefs and understanding of humanity are the reasons why, or maybe I was just lucky. Either way, here I am, a 55-year-old raised Jewish (btw, the Jews don’t believe in Heaven and Hell) Atheistic Satanist from Los Angeles CA. I’ve often fantasized about having superpowers, but I never thought that I would actually have them, let alone become the most ultimate ‘villain’ ever!

Entry 1 I’ll never forget that day. The past few days the weather was beautiful, clear skies and temps around the mid-seventies. But by late Saturday night/early Sunday morning, a storm blew in from the coast. Pasadena, where my wife Beth and our two dogs Sophie and Sadie live, was expected to get up to 3 inches of rain, and after the 5+ years of drought we’ve had, 3 inches seemed like an ocean. I drove to work instead of riding my URB-E (Urban Electric motorized bike) to be safe. I work as a Security Officer at a Botanical Garden just south of Pasadena. I was at my post at the entrance of the gardens, under my huge orange Shademaker umbrella watching the rain pour down around me as I greeted the few visitors that come to the Garden on a day like today. A man walks up behind me and hands me a wallet and says that he found it in the desert garden and was told to give it to me. I thanked him and then went to examine the lost wallet. It was black leather, nothing special about it except for the fact that it was completely dry. As I opened it to see if there was any I.D. in it there was a number of credit cards in their appointed slots, and a card that read:

Hello Scott, you have been chosen to be the next Satan in this World. Do not throw away, give away, or turn this wallet into lost and found, it is yours now. You have every major credit card with unlimited credit to live on. More information will be revealed to you shortly. Your powers will go into effect in 24 hours. Hail Satan! Satan #30

You may be asking, how can you be Satan with all his powers and wisdom if you consider yourself an Atheist and don't believe in God or religion? The answer came to me that night. I slept like a rock (if rocks actually sleep), maybe it was the bowl of Dantes Fire I smoked before bed, but I was out when my head hit the pillow. In the dream I had, Satan #30 came to me as the devil character drawn by the artist Coop - red skin, pointy ears, horns, and goatee, and his signature cigar. He shared with me that yes, I was chosen because of my core beliefs and values and my understanding of humanity. He shared with me the history and understanding of this Being in the World. Man created religions and the Gods they associated with them. According to scriptures, God cast Satan out and gave him the power over this World. Since his power is in this negative realm, it is manifest as tangible and thus can make physical changes here. God is all speculative and invisible and does not have real power on Earth. Believers work themselves up into a frenzy because a preacher tells them that it’s the Holy Spirit working through them or they see the miracle of Jesus’ face on a piece of toast, but none of it is real. To quote the band Styx, “Welcome to the Grand Illusion.” The true paradox is that there has been more death, war, and destruction in the name of God, who is supposed to be the 'good guy' and Satan, the 'bad guy,' has been the one who brought positive changes.

The most important thing I was told to remember with this responsibility is to always be aware of how my choices and actions will affect future history. Yes, I can wipe out poverty and suffering instantly and make the ones who have been greedy and the cause of all the pain in the World pay for their crimes, but that wouldn't serve humanity in the long run. By manifesting such miracles I would be acting as a God and destroy the entity that is Satan. Giving the blessings of personal responsibility and cause & effect gradually will serve mankind in the long run. I'm what you might call a Spiritual, er I mean Satanic Lowrider.

I grew up in a very relaxed, reformed Jewish household. I went to Hebrew school after public school and studied for my Bar Mitzvah. In the Jewish religion, when a child turns 13 they are considered a man or woman after ceremonially reading from the Torah (holy scriptures) and collect lots of gelt (money) as gifts. Like most of my schooling, I squeaked by like the crackling voice of a young teenage boy. I was sent to the Rabbi’s office for disrupting the class so often you’d think we were having an affair. I would walk out of Temple singing the old McDonald’s commercial, “Scrambled eggs and sausage, yeaaaaa!” I was a bad Jew even then.

After my parents died at the end of my teens I became more spiritual and joined a non-denominational church called the Movement of Spiritual Awareness or M.S.I.A. I became a minister, chanted my tones, and did a lot of volunteering. I was really into it and thought that I had finally found my home and family, I was only in my mid-twenties. Everything was very ‘woo woo’ as I was sending the Light and ‘deflecting’ negativity. I was using all the lingo, “I ask for the Light of the Holy Spirit to surround, fill, and protect us for the highest good.”

As I grew into adulthood, worked a full-time job, got married, got divorced and lived on my own once again, the spiritual stuff faded from my life. I still wanted to believe that there was a God or Power greater than us but became disgusted by organized religion and their manipulative ways. Too many rules telling you how to eat, dress, and act (Fuck you, I like eating bacon!). I guess I was an Agnostic at this point. It took a couple of decades, but I finally accepted the fact that we are on our own, products of evolution, and proclaimed myself an Atheist.

When I met Beth at the end of 2003, I knew I had met my true Partner-In-Crime. As I was growing up in Culver City on the west side, Beth was going through much of the same family issues and cultural changes over the hill in North Hollywood. She also grew up in a reformed Jewish family and could relate to everything I went through as a youth. Although Beth does not like labels, she finally claimed the mantle of Atheist along with me. We call ourselves Deli Jews because these days we’re only in it for the food but still relate to our families as Jews culturally.

As I observed the changes in the World and started to learn the truth behind a lot of the things that society takes for granted - such as  thinking that our air is clean, our food is healthy, our legal system is fair, and our government is ‘For The People.’ I started to look at science as the truth and the way. Some people would call me a conspiracy theorist, but what is a conspiracy anyway? According to the dictionary, a con*spir*a*cy is a secret plan by a group of people to do something unlawful or harmful. Looking at the greed and manipulation of religions, governments, and corporations, I’d say there is a plethora of conspiring going on! So yes, I guess I am a good candidate to be the latest incarnation of Satan.

One of my first dilemmas was how to tell my wife that suddenly I am the embodiment of The Devil? "Hey Honey, by the way, you know that whole Satanist thing I'm into, yeah well, I'm Satan!" Actually, she was quite accepting of my new job title, especially the part about how our needs will always be met and we can live an easier life now. Part of the job description states that Satan's chosen family and loved ones will be taken care of as long as they respect the terms laid out by Satan. My siblings with receive the benefits of good health and enjoyment of life as long as they take care of themselves and don't rely on me to do it all for them. Here's an example - I may grant my brother good health and for every pound he loses, his family will also lose a pound until they all reach the healthiest weight for their size and body type. As long as they all continue to make an effort to live healthy through diet and physical activity the benefits will remain. If they choose to be lazy about it and expect Satan to just fix their lives for them, they will be on their own to deal with the consequences of the actions. That's pretty much how it works - take responsibility and step up to the plate and the blessings will be yours, choose to be lazy or arrogant, and karma kicks in.

Entry 2 Sure enough, 24 hours after I read that card from my new wallet, at exactly 12:00 noon, I have to vomit. So much for my half hour lunch. I spent the entire 30 minutes with my head in the toilet. At first, I thought it was my vertigo acting up again, but this was different. As I was puking I felt lighter, clearer, and freer than I have ever felt. I don’t know what was coming out of me, but I was glad to see it go. Once I stood up and washed my face, I felt like a million bucks! I thought to myself, that must have been my final initiation into Satanhood. So here I am, with the ability to affect people’s lives, and for lack of a better term change things in the physical world, but how do I do it? There was no instruction manual or advice from my chat with Satan #30 on how to do this. I kinda felt like Ralph Hinkley from the show The Greatest American Hero - here are your powers, you figure it out. I’m at work and now I am the latest Satan incarnate, let’s have some fun.

Part of my job is to make sure that people are wearing a paid admission sticker to enter the gardens. We close at 5:00 pm and stop selling tickets at 4:00 pm because it’s not fair to sell someone full price when they only have one hour to visit. Inevitably I get at least a few groups that come after 4:00 and want to come in. Here’s how the interaction always goes, I say, “Hi guys, do you have your stickers?” They reply, “What stickers?” I inform them that they have to have paid in order to pass this point, but we stop selling tickets at 4. “But we just spent X number of hours on the road to get here and we really want to see the Huntington gardens!” they exclaim. I explain to them that they should come back another day and plan to spend all day and that we are open from 10:00 am to 5:00 pm every day except Tuesday because we are closed. Before I can finish that sentence, they blurt out, “Oh we’re flying out of town tonight.” I always get frustrated because I hear this excuse over and over and over ad nauseam. Here they are with a smartphone in hand and they never thought to call or look up our website to find out what time we close?!? Today, I thought, let’s test out these new Satanic powers of mine <insert evil grin here>.

As I expected, at 4:15 pm a couple approaches, reads the sign on the front on my podium that reads ADMISSION REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT, and decides to confront me, “We just got here and reeeeeally want to see the gardens!” Me: “Sorry, but we’re closing in 45 minutes. I suggest you come back…” Them: “We’re flying back to Miami tonight. Can’t we just” At this point I thought, now would be a good time to test out my new satanic skills. I looked at them eyes wide, my mouth and left hand open, and then snapped them shut to simulate shutting their mouths with all the satanic power I could muster! Nothing happened. They kept talking but looking at me a little strange. Okay, my first attempt at summoning my new abilities didn’t quite work. “we promise we won’t tell if you let us in. We'll be quick, I promise. I just want to take a few pictures with my phone” “STOP!" I said firmly. Silence. “No, you cannot come in. Did it ever occur to you to pick up that smartphone you have in your hand and call here to see what time we were open until? Or look up our website? You show up 45 minutes before we close and it’s MY problem, what do you think, this is McDonald’s and you can have it your way?!?” This time they did stop talking, by the puzzled look on their faces and the impossible attempts at uttering a word, they couldn’t talk! So using my words of persuasion to command my power is one way of accessing it. Let’s find another!

I couldn’t get home fast enough. A gazillion ideas of what my powers were and how the hell I’m going to access them ran through my mind on my ride home. Usually, the 15 miles an hour of my URB-E didn’t bother me, but today I needed a rocket! Wait, I have super satanic powers, that  I - don’t - know - how - to - use. “Patience,” I told myself, I’ve got a lot to think about and fantasize about.

So this is the first time that Beth is seeing me with my new powers. She knew I was excited, but also warned me about going slow and keeping my satanic sorcery close to home and to not fuck with the neighbors (at least not yet). I stood there on our back patio ready to…I don’t know? Wave my magic wand? Point my finger with authority and intent? Use mind control? I started by thinking, WWSD - What Would Satan Do? Ah fuck it, how should I know? I’ve only had the job for a day, I don’t think I’m expected to know how to do it all by now. I decided to stop for now and go smoke a bowl of some fine Indica. 15 minutes later while laying on the bed with our dogs, I got it! Let go, detach, and relax your mind, then tell it what you want. Have two huge salads ready for Beth and I was what I thought on my way from the bedroom to the kitchen (all of about 30 ft.). By the time I stepped foot in the kitchen, Beth says uncontrollably, “WHERE THE FUCK DID THOSE COME FROM?” All I could do after looking at the beautiful salads on the table and turning my head to Beth was grin and wink ;-).

Over the munching and crunching of our scrumptious salads, we talked about how do I want to use these powers and do I want to go public with my new identity and keep in on the down-low. We both agreed that keeping it on the d-l would be the wisest and safest choice. I thought I’d start practicing locally, with my community - work, around town, and of course our neighbors. We love most of our neighbors, but there are some, let’s just say they could use a lesson or two about attitude and parking.

We live on a busy, main street that is our only place to park. The block is all apartments. Some of these neighbors own upwards of 4 or 5 cars and trucks! Not huge families, small families - parents and their two young kids, and couples. And, they don’t know how to park for shit - 3 feet from the curb, their back end sticking out, and parking in the middle of a spot that can fit 2 cars.

It’s a shame that there has been a rash of incidences of cars getting towed because they seemed to be parked in the middle of the street or on someone's lawn <insert evil grin here>.

Now, I know that part of the responsibility of being Satan is not just doing parlor tricks, so what else should I be doing with my newly acquired talents? The only one I can think of to ask is my predecessor, Satan #30. Before bed tonight, I took a long look at the tattoo I have on my left calf of Coop’s Satan that Beth and I got on our 10 year wedding anniversary. It was the first in a series of our tradition of getting a Halloween style tattoo each year to commemorate our years together. We were married on Halloween and love collecting tats, so this has become our anniversary gift to each other. Since #30 came to me like this version of Satan, I figured this would be a good way of focusing my energy on him before drifting off to sleep.

It worked. That floating, talking, cigar smoking little devil showed up ready to help. I found out later that part of your mitzvah (a good deed in Jewish belief) as a prior Satan is to assist the present torch bearer whenever they ask for it. My main question, aside from clarifying how to access these powers, was what is the best way to serve mankind (and not as a main course)? He reassured me that focus and a clear intent on what I want to create is the best way to access my powers, and to have fun with it (he forgot to mention that the first time we chatted). As far as how to be of service, his suggestion was to always think, how will this action benefit those involved? Even if my commandment is a form of tough love and is there to teach a lesson (as I did with the couple that wanted to enter the Huntington at 4:15 without paying), it must be for the highest good of all concerned. He also suggested I read the ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF HELL - An Invasion Manual For Demons Concerning the Planet Earth translated from the demonic by Martin Olson that was originally written by the O.S. (Original Satan). It gives some good insights into the truth behind Humankind.

I woke up refreshed and ready for my new job. After a nice cold shower, it was time to get to work. If my family is to be taken care of during my tenure, let’s start today. Our dogs, Sophie (a pit bull mix) and Sadie (a short-haired, low-riding Dachshund) are two knuckleheads that can be stubborn sometimes. I want them around as my Hellhounds for a long time, so they shall have perfect health, ticks and fleas can’t touch them, and they are perfectly obedient. All Beth and I have to do, is calmly tell them what to do, and it’s done - no fuss, no stress (for us or for them). I took them for a nice long walk. Even though I could now walk them without a leash knowing that nothing will happen without my consent, I didn’t want to break any laws. I put their collars and leashes on but had the leashes floating up as if I was holding them (kind of like the invisible dog trick with the wire in the leash). And I stopped picking up their poop piles. Now the canine logs of excrement instantly turn into the perfect fertilizer for the grass or plant it lands on. Happy dogs, happy daddy!

When Beth got home, we sat on the couch after dinner and discussed what she and I wanted in terms of our physical health and appearance. Obviously, we wanted perfect internal and mental health, but how do we want our bodies to improve. Beth wanted to slim up, clear skin and strength to do what she loves - hiking, skating, and exploring the World. I chose to only have a minute amount of body fat and more muscle definition along with the strength to keep up with Beth. To not attract too much attention, I’m having this transformation happen gradually yet quickly over a period of about 6 months, most people don’t notice anything odd about changes that take place over a slightly extended period of time, plus it will feel more natural that way. To not have to worry about vertigo, hearing loss, and erectile dysfunction, AWESOME!

There is one group that I’m involved with that I think might like to hear this news, the Los Angeles chapter of The Satanic Temple. I’ve been a member for about a year and a half and really love where their heart is. TST is doing a lot of work nationally for Freedom OF Religion and Free Speech, as well as the constant struggle to separate Church and State. The L.A. chapter has put on some fucking amazing Satanic Masses as fundraisers and as a way for people who feel like outsiders in society to come together and be accepted. I knew that they would understand the terms of the way I am to assist them, and that fact that we are going to have a hellaciously fun time doing it! To give you an example of what the Temple of Satan believes, here are the Seven Tenets we follow:

One should strive to act with compassion and empathy towards all creatures in accordance with reason.

The struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over laws and institutions.

One’s body is inviolable, subject to one’s own will alone.

The freedoms of others should be respected, including the freedom to offend. To willfully and unjustly encroach upon the freedoms of another is to forgo one's own.

Beliefs should conform to our best scientific understanding of the world. We should take care never to distort scientific facts to fit our beliefs.

People are fallible. If we make a mistake, we should do our best to rectify it and remediate any harm that may have been caused.

Every tenet is a guiding principle designed to inspire nobility in action and thought. The spirit of compassion, wisdom, and justice should always prevail over the written or spoken word.

Quite a bunch of evil motherfuckers, huh? One of the things about TST that I love is the fact that they don’t worship the actual being known as Satan, they believe in what the literary character represents - freedom from oppression, knowledge, and fun, as opposed to the other literary character that so many sheeple blindly follow. Now they have the real deal, the definite article, the man-the myth-the legend - Me. How are they going to explain that? I’d suggest keeping this our little secret and have fun doing the good works that we do. They also use Satan and Satanism for shock value to demonstrate to not always judge a book by its cover - Satanist doing good in the World and believers in God doing horrible things in his name. Btw, Anton LaVey - poser.

I can’t help but fantasize even more about all the ways I can help people and right injustices without anyone knowing it was me. If I see someone being kind to another person, I might reward them by paying for his or her parking or picking up his or her tab at a restaurant anonymously. Maybe teachers who choose to teach the truth and not just the curriculum that they are told to teach and brainwash their students will be given the support that they deserve. I love to see children become curious and question why things are the way they are. Like training a dog with positive reinforcement, every time a kid helps another kid whom he or she doesn’t know well or stands up to a bully, they get an instant reward of some sort such as found money, a certificate of appreciation, or their favorite meal from their parents. If a driver steals a parking spot that someone else is waiting for, their car dies and has to be towed. My mind just goes on, and on, and on thinking of ways to be the best Satan I can be.

“Be all that you can be, become a Satanist!”

And just so no-one catches on, I’m going to do these type of things all over the World so it doesn’t look like wherever I am miracles happen. Am I starting to sound like a god or something? Maybe so, but I am Satan. Again, I love that fact that this demonstrates not to judge a book by its cover, that which we label as good or evil just might be the complete opposite. Positive chaos can be the perfect action to right wrongs and balance unsteady ground. What if people of different nationalities and economic levels came together and organized against tyranny and oppression? Hey, a Devil can dream can’t he?

There’s a trick I’ve always wanted to do. I saw it in the 1995 movie Powder about an Albino teenager with extrasensory perception and the ability to heal the sick. In one scene, the main character Powder is camping with a group of boys (I think it was the Boy Scouts or something like that) and their adult counselors when one of the boys shoots a deer with a hunting rifle. Deeply saddened by the event, Powder touches the dying animal with one hand and grabs the hand of one of the adults. What transpires is that Powder acted as a conduit so that the adult counselor could see and experience what the deer was going through as it takes its last breaths. It’s a true example of demonstrating empathy. I would love to experience someone acting like an asshole, insensitive, or being a racist dickhead and just shake their hand or touch their shoulder and have them feel what the person that they are picking on feels when they are treated that way (Seems like a very Jesus thing to do, maybe I’ll go easy on this one).

I’m not a sports fan, I believe that sports are another way for humans to stay divided, it’s that whole ‘us against them’ thing. But I do love wearing jersey’s, so I bought a hockey, football, baseball, and basketball jersey in my favorite colors - orange, black, and gray, with my name BERGER on the back and number 31 (get it?) on all of them. GO TEAM BERGER SATAN! Did I mention that I suck at playing sports? I grew up with asthma and couldn’t run, let alone play without wheezing and coughing my head off. I died inside during P.E. every time the coach would yell, “EVERYONE RUN A LAP!” Even now, I have no desire to jog, run, or chase a ball (I’ll leave that to my Hellhounds, Sophie and Sadie).

Entry 3 Date night with the Mrs., tonight we’re going to see DEADPOOL 2. We loved the first movie and have been looking forward to this sequel for a long time. As usual, we got there early enough to get some buttered popcorn and our seats before the 20 minutes of previews. We like to sit at the top of the theater in the back row if possible so we don’t have to listen to anyone talking or munching behind us during the movie. We found a couple of seats at the top on the left side, with no one sitting around us. The previews we’re okay, a few of them that I can never seem to remember when I leave the theater, I want to come back and see.

Just as the movie starts, these three Jugheads with enough candy and food to feed a small nation, sit down right in front of us. We look at each other with that knowing glance that a couple develops after being together for years. We silently decided to not say anything yet, to wait and see. Once they started feeding their faces they became a little bit quieter, since their mouths were full of junk food. But about halfway through the movie, the commentating and texting began. “Why the fuck didn’t he just kill the motherfucker?” “Dude, that's fucking stupid! He can’t be dead, and what’s with all this mushy love shit?” exclaimed two of them while the third kept texting with the clicking sound on his keyboard. That’s it, last straw, time to have some fun.

I had the scene in the movie stop, and Deadpool played by Ryan Reynolds breaks the fourth wall (in stage and film, that’s where the actor interacts directly with the audience), and addresses the three Jugheads. “HEY PEABRAINS, YEAH YOU, THE THREE STOOGES IN THE BACK WITH A SEVERE CASE OF THE MUNCHIES AND OPINIONS - SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I WILL COME OUT THERE AND TURN YOU INTO A SUB-HUMAN CENTIPEDE!” At first, everyone thought this was a joke and part of the movie, but this wasn’t a 3D movie and none of us were wearing 3D glasses either. When Deadpool reached out of the screen with both hands and his ‘avocado-had-sex-with-an-older-avocado’ face and came towards our noisy neighbors, at least two of them pissed their sagging pants and I think the third shit himself. They ran out of there embarrassed as hell holding their poop and pee stained pants hoping nobody sees or says anything to them. After clearing the air of stench and replacing it with a gentle floral fragrance, I allowed Mr. Deadpool to continue with his scene (only after Deadpool and all the theater attendees applauded the Jugheads departure). By the way, everyone at our screening of DEADPOOL 2 received a full refund and two free passes per person to come back to see another movie.

Entry 4 8:30 am. It's too early to listen to all the squawking going on in the trees around my post. From the sounds of it, you'd think I was in a rain forest and a predator was threatening the flocks. The only way I'm going to enjoy my coffee and start the day in a good mood is to quiet things down a bit. A little concentration and a mighty, "SHUSH!" and silence. Ahh, that's better.

I was reflecting today on people who rock the boat, specifically at their jobs. Maybe, the employees who challenge the system, question management, care about their jobs and speak up, are the smart ones and the ones to listen to. They see what’s really going on first hand (the boots in the trenches), and usually have very innovative solutions to these problems. The workers and management that play by all the rules, are calm and complacent all the time, and are just buying their time in hopes of a good pension to retire on, are the dangerous ones. The latter live in fear and would never rock the boat or go out on a limb, especially for their staff. The meek shall inherit the Earth if anyone would listen to them! Maybe now I can bend a few ears and make some changes.

I’ve got to stop listening to bands like Ministry on the way home, without trying I was hitting speeds upwards of 60 mph on my URB-E. Focus Scott and remember safety first.

Entry 5 I was thinking about the quote from the King James Bible, 1 Timothy 6:10, "For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” There has been a meme going around that states IF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL, THEN WHY DOES THE CHURCH ALWAYS ASK FOR IT?. I found this to be a very good question. It sounds rather hypocritical to me - they preach the evils of the love of money, at the same time they keep asking you to donate it to the Church. I’ll bet that the Church's answer would be that they [the Church] are there to take the burden of the evils of money off of their parishioners. How fucking Christ-like of them.

Thank God Satan doesn’t have to ask for donations! I can’t see myself going door-to-door begging for change, “Hi, would you like to donate whatever you can to support your favorite arch-nemesis and fall-guy?” I’ve never liked the whole sales pitch thing. Even when organizations that I’ve been involved with called it ‘sharing your experience’ instead of what you are really doing which is selling goods and services, I was still hocking their wares. Isn’t Greed one of the 7 ‘deadly’ ‘sins’? Way to teach by example you cross-loving-self-righteous-robber-barons!

The Church asks for donations and tithing (giving 10% of your income), Jewish temples require payment to become a member, and Muslims are obligated to participate in a form of tithing called zakah. You can’t tell me that religion isn’t big business, this is a global money-making machine of ancient and epic proportions. Fuck the poor, praise the rich, and pray for trickle-down economics.

Entry 6 I woke up, made some deliciously strong Armenian coffee with smoked tea in the mix for an added flavor and caffeine fix, and started perusing Facebook. I started to feel discouraged by all the hate and religious rhetoric that is being vomited all over the internet these days. I hadn’t realized just how many people actually and wholeheartedly believe their chosen religion above common sense and logic. So here I am, the embodiment of ‘Evil’ on this planet, surrounded by a HUGE majority that believes that their chosen invisible god is the only one. I’m here to use my powers for good in the midst of this turmoil of political and religious power struggle which is purely manmade (kinda sounds like a comic book. I’m sure I can get Stan Lee to appear as a cameo in this nightmare of a reality, maybe as God himself and we can arm wrestle).

According to Wikipedia, Satan is an entity in the Abrahamic religions that seduces humans into sin. In Christianity and Islam, he is usually seen as a fallen angel, or a jinni, who used to possess great piety and beauty but rebelled against God, who nevertheless allows him temporary power over the fallen world and a host of demons. The Seducer, I like it! My thoughts on sin are that it is not negative, but merely human attributes. Seducing people to be the best self they can be (No, I am NOT plagiarizing the U.S. Army) sounds like a cool part of the job. Fallen Angel - well I am kind of a klutz, and I LOVE the term Host of Demons! I also like the name Satan because it only has two syllables. The Devil {3}, Lucifer {3}, Beelzebub {4}, they don’t slide off the tongue as Satan does.

I’m guessing that what I’ve been going through the last couple of days has been a ‘reflective time.’ It feels like I’m re-learning about myself all over again. I love the fact that part of the responsibility of being Satan is to keep yourself on the down-low, I call it Satanic Lowriding. The real magician behind the curtain, the master illusionist with a heart, the manipulator of mirth…Satan!

Entry 7 Sometimes I let the dogs poop in the house just so I have something to do that reminds me of the good ol’ days. They’re so well trained these days that it’s almost boring. Last night while walking them we passed a rather aggressive Chihuahua and it’s owner (is 'owner' not politically correct?), er, I mean person, that was so distracted by her cell phone that she didn’t even know her precious little pooch was acting like a terror. As we tried to pass, I had Sadie our Dachshunds eyes glow bright red and growl a low guttural rumble that meant, “GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY!” The Chihuahua got the message loud and clear, it yelped and curled up in a ball like a pill bug. Its person was easy, I simply killed the power to her phone, and then telepathically called her an evil demon and said, “Pay attention, Satan is watching you!” Of course, she dropped her phone in horror and looked around frantically trying to figure out who did this. When she looked my way, and I turned to grin at her with glowing red eyes to see her reaction - priceless!

Entry 8 I find myself asking, “WWSD - What Would Satan Do?” The Satan, Numero Uno Satanas, the OS - Original Satan, and how did he come to be? Did he just *appear* after his mention in the bible, or was it more organic like he was struck by a meteor particle? That must have been scary the first time he found out he had supernatural powers, “GOD DAMN IT, WHO THREW THAT ROCK?” Did he get tripped by a vagrant and cursed him, “May your feet fall off at the ankle!” and they did. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall the first time Satan read the bible. I bet Satan himself started a lot of the rumors and stereotypes about ‘The Devil’ throughout the Centuries.

At work, I was sitting there watching people shuffling around trying to figure out how to navigate the map of the gardens and what they want to see first. As they passed by, depending on their reaction to my greeting, I might make them lose their voice for about an hour or make some small physical improvement such as clear up acne, or even cause their clothes to fit them perfectly as if tailored just for them. I had a tour group of Japanese people act very rude towards me so I made them all speak Swedish for the rest of the day (that made my day a lot brighter).  

I know I’m supposed to do good in the World, but I can’t help but think that Satan was the Original Prankster. Maybe it’s that image of the devil with that gleam in his eye and that wink that says, “I got your back kid, let’s have some fun!”  

Entry 9 Aside from just my dogs, I can communicate with the other species of the animal kingdom. Sitting outside on the back patio of our apartment I was watching a crow on a power line cawing to the other crows in the area. He was looking for his murder (a group of crows is called a murder) which he became separated from. He must have sensed that I was looking at him because he stopped, turned his head in my direction and cocked his head to one side as if to say, “You understand me.” I nodded my head in agreement and calmly said, “Come here, my friend.” He flew down and landed on the back of the patio chair caddy-corner to me. We just looked at each other for a few moments as if we were two old friends who haven’t seen each other in years. I broke the silence by asking him if he knew who I was, he nodded and bowed his head in what I guess was a show of respect.

So I am able to speak English to animals and they understand me, and I understand them telepathically. I’m a real Dr. Doolittle! My new feathered friend cawed that he will let his murder know that I am here and to be of assistance to me and my family in any way they can. I smiled and nodded in appreciation.

Entry 10 Independent’s Day here in the good ol’ U.S.A. One tradition that I never quite understood was the annual hot dog eating contests where participants try to eat as many hot dogs as possible in a limited amount of time. The most famous of these contests are sponsored by Natan’s Hot Dogs on Coney Island in New York. Of course, small towns and cities all over this Nation have their own local competitions to see who in their community is the most gluttonous. Being the prankster that I am, I thought it would be fun to attend one of these displays of face-stuffing fun and hedge my bets, so to speak. Monrovia CA was having theirs in the park of the local library in the center of town. There were 8 contestants ranging in age from 18 to 70, both men and women. I chose the 70-year-old man who looked like a cross between Mr. Rogers and Ebenezer Scrooge. When the whistle blew the competing eaters started ferociously chomping on the pile of meat sticks in front of them. They had 10 minutes to eat as many of the 50 hot dogs in their buns placed in front of them with only water to wash them down. Of course, the younger participants started off strong, but then, thanks to me, my man started sucking down dogs like an alcoholic in a beer drinking contest. It almost looked like he wasn’t even chewing them, effortlessly letting those wieners slide down his throat. He finished his plate of 50 in approximately 6 minutes and then started reaching over to the plate of the girl next to him and started eating hers! The crowd was on their feet and going berserk! Part of the thrill for me was watching to look on the old guy's face as he was devouring the dogs in this meat-fest. Being the kind-hearted Satan that I am I made sure that the winner and all of the contestants had no ill effects from their gorging. HAIL THE HOT DOG!

I imbibed a little too much and tried to impress Beth by shooting bottle rockets out of my ass and spelling I LOVE YOU in the night sky. Good night.

Entry 11 It dawned on me that if word was to get out that I indeed was Satan and had these powers, I would be hunted by every religious whack-job on the planet. The fact that they had a physical target to blame all of the Worlds problems on, as well as their own personal shortcomings, would make me Terrorist #1. (I would make Hitler, Pol Pot, and Trump look like amateurs!) I’m sure I would hear everything from, “Children are starving because of you!” to “You’re the one who keeps taking my job!” even “The weather sucks today ‘cause of you!" If I was to get caught by these whack-jobs would they string me up and hang me, making me the ultimate martyr like Jesus, or would the military want to use me for their own evil doings? Now I know why I should keep my ministry on the down-low.

Entry 12 It’s hot as Hell today - pun intended. Temps here in Southern California hit 122 degrees in some areas, wtf? When did we move to Death Valley? I have a confession to make, I may be Satan Incarnate, but I HATE hot weather! Unlike old people from the East Coast, I will not be retiring in Florida. I’d be quite content living out my final days in Alaska (sans Sarah Palin and her dysfunctional clan), Canada, or the Highlands of Scotland. But since I was home here in Pasadena and off work today, I set the temperature in our hotbox of an apartment to a comfortable 68 degrees, turned off the ac to conserve electricity, and stayed in with my demon-dogs. They love when Beth and/or I am home with them, especially when I conjure up a big bowl of shaved ice for each of them.

Since we live across the street from the only Jewish Temple in Pasadena, I like to have fun with those obnoxious ‘chosen people’ who think that they are holier than thou. Tonight is the Sabbath. According to Jewish religious law, from sundown on Friday night to sundown on Saturday night Jews are supposed to usher in the Sabbath, or Shabbat as they call it, by going to temple, lighting candles and praying. Every Friday night it is impossible to find a parking place in front of our apartment because the temple goers have parked their Mercedes and BMW's in every available spot on the street. So to test their faith and teach them a lesson, I sent the most savory smell of bacon, ham, and shrimps-on-the-barbie to permeate throughout the temple. I’ll bet that the Denny’s on Colorado Blvd. will be filled with Jewish families ordering Moons Over My Hammy with a side of bacon and fried shrimp. You’re welcome.

Entry 13 - 9:45pm I decided to have some fun tonight. On the east coast, it’s 3 hours ahead of us here in California which makes it about 12:45 am. I used my Satan Sense to hone in on VP Mike Pence and Attorney General Jeff Sessions to make sure these two faithful children of God are fast asleep. I then telepathically visited each of them in their bedrooms, waking them as I appear as their God Almighty complete with white hair and beard, white gown, and puffy white clouds surrounding me. “I AM ASHAMED AND DISAPPOINTED IN YOU MY SON!” I said in a deep, booming voice. “USING ME AS AN EXCUSE FOR YOUR FINANCIAL AND POLITICAL GAIN, DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT I DIDN’T EXIST AND COULDN’T HEAR ALL THE VILE LIES YOU TELL IN MY NAME?!? THERE IS A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR SINNERS LIKE YOU!” Both of their wives also woke up, saw, and heard me alongside their chicken-shit hubbies so there were witnesses. Jeff Sessions actually peed his pajamas, while Mike Pence started sobbing and apologizing like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Will it change their stance on policies? Maybe not, but it sure was fun!

Entry 14 A First Aid/CPR class might not be the kind of environment to play around with my powers, but this particular class needed a little levity. First of all the instructor was an egotistical stick-in-the-mud who has been teaching these training classes for way too long, it felt like he was phoning it in. I could tell that most of the other attendees were getting bored and frustrated, so I decided to lighten things up a bit. The instructor, I'll call him Joe, was going over how to approach a person (the CPR dummy) who is unresponsive. His dry example of how to get a response from the nonresponsive person was the perfect opportunity. Just as he was about to lean down and give the two breaths, I had eyes, that wasn't previously there, open and look right at him. The look on his face and the girlish squeal that uncontrollably blurted out of his mouth was priceless! And just as quick as the eyes appeared, they vanished with no trace of what he just saw. The whole class gasped in unison and then broke out in laughter. Needless to say, we were all sent on a break after that.

* I put the 'lo' in El Diablo (as in down-low).

Entry 15 All fun aside, there is a very real and present danger to society looming over the United States - Christianity. With Trump and his right-wing cronies in the Federal government, their push to bypass the Constitution and drive to make Christianity the official religion in the U.S., the need for the varied people of this country to come together and fight this fascism is critical if we want to halt another Holocaust of that scale and larger. Those in power (governments, religions, banks, etc.) have been using the Divide and Conquer method to keep us separated and fighting amongst ourselves for Centuries. They use everything from a Bipartisan System, to sports, and even how products and services are marketed. Almost everything is modern society is designed to divide us up into more factions. Even amongst the same groups such as race, gender and politics there is fighting and turmoil. They want to undo decades of legislation to protect 1st Amendment rights, freedom of religion, gay rights, as well as the right to assemble. As Satan #31, I feel a strong sense of duty to support this fight and protect as many people as possible. (Crap, this feels like the most daunting tasks I’ve ever had to do!) Secularism is threatened every day. There is a movement in the right-wing community called Project Blitz. Their goals are to inundate government on all levels with Christian ideals, promote Christianity in public schools, and flood society with Christian symbolism.

I think I’ll start by more actively supporting the efforts of The Satanic Temple financially to assist with their growing legal costs. Next, I think promoting the After School Satan program and Women’s Reproductive Rights campaign will be important causes to help spread locally and nationally. Free and critical thinking should be offered to every child regardless of economic class, culture, or gender. Women’s Rights are a given, women should be recognized, heard, and fairly compensated for their active roles in society. The more transparent this work, the more people will clearly see that these Satanists are kind, loving, and compassionate individuals.

Now it will be much easier to send mass mailings, emails, and text messages to politicians. THE PEOPLE WILL BE HEARD!

Entry 16 Today I donated a substantial amount of money anonymously and specifically to the Security Department where I work. I stated that I wanted all Security Officers to receive a 25% raise, permanent structures in the entrance pavilion to keep the officers that work there comfortable and protected from the elements, and free ice cream for all Security staff anytime they want. The only clue as to whom this contribution came from was a note attached that said, “From a concerned Member.” That ought to keep ’em guessing for a while <wink>.

While I’m still working there I perform little miracles when needed, such as making people with faux ‘Service Dogs’ feel guilty when they approach me trying enter or causing the make-up of a model to run horribly down her face when she tries to come in to do an unauthorized photo shoot. One day I heard a call on the radio that there was a photo shoot going on in the Chinese Garden so I sent a small murder of crows to dive-bomb them and disrupt their plans (now THOSE would be some awesome pictures!).

Entry 17 I just had an AH HA! moment. It’s time get back on the stand-up comedy stage and influence audiences to the truth about God, Satan, and religion (Oh yeah, among other things I’m a stand-up comedian). I can write comedy bits about God and Satan interacting with characterizations of God being mean and short-tempered and Satan being as polite as an English gentleman. This is going to be fun!

Entry 18 The 'doing good work in the World' is the easy part. The hard part is using restraint when the urge to be painfully vindictive creeps in. Sometimes people piss me off so much that I just want them to feel the wrath that their behavior creates. Oh, how fun and easy it would be to make somebody pay for his or her arrogance, aggression, and stupidity for the rest of his or her lives. I've been finding that doing good work doesn't mean laying down and letting the negativity of the World walk all over you but sometimes using uncomfortable acts to get people's attention and wake them up. For example, I would love to set those people on fire who say to me, "Oh, it's not that hot today!" while I'm sitting outside in the 100-degree heat under an umbrella that makes it feel like I’m in an oven. But I hold back, and simply kill the air-conditioning in their office (only for a day).

Entry 19 Today I found out what scares the Jeebus out of Jehovah’s Witnesses, Me. 10:00 am there’s a knock on the front door. After carefully peeking out the front window, I open the door looking like Tim Curry as The Devil in the movie LEGEND. Red face and body (ripped I might add), goat hooves, and huge black demon horns. As I spoke in a deep rumble, “Good morning ladies, how can I help you?” smoke drifted out of my nose and mouth. They hesitantly offered me a copy of The Watchtower, which burst into flames and ashes the moment it touched my hand. That was all these Jehovah-Loving-Witnesses could take! As they turned to run away, they tripped and started crawling over one another to get away. I guess their faith wasn’t very strong. At least they didn’t piss themselves as A.G. Jeff Sessions did.

Entry 20 I remember once when I was in my twenties, I was assisting in a personal growth seminar - Insight Transformational Seminars. I witnessed a woman go through what they called Crabbing. Crabbing is when a person is going through a great deal of emotional release and their hands contort and stiffen-up like a crabs claws.

I can only equate when parishioners of televangelists go into those spastic fits claiming that the Holy Spirit is working through them, to Crabbing. It’s all in their minds and emotions, there is nothing spiritual about it. When believers claim to be possessed by demons and one of these flamboyantly Christian preachers ‘exercise’ the evil out of them, well that’s just bad acting.

My dear reader, you have probably guessed that I would treat them to a real possession at this point. Yes, but not the way you might think. I was watching the popular faith healer and televangelist Benny Hinn on television and he was going through his usual paces of knocking down the congregation with the wave of his jacket, er, I mean the Holy Spirit, when this one man claimed to be inhabited by an evil spirit that made him growl and bark like a dog as he rabidly showed his fangs (teeth). Just as Benny Hinn was beginning to ‘exercise’ this poor lost soul, I possessed Mr. Hinn. “THIS IS ALL FAKE YOU IDIOTS!” I exclaimed. “THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE DEVIL. I JUST WANT YOUR MONEY, AND STOP BARKING AT ME!” The ‘possessed’ man in front of me/Hinn and everyone in the television studio/church froze in silence. When I exited Mr. Hinn’s body I felt slimy like a snail. Of course, when Hinn regained consciousness he didn’t remember what just happened. The uncomfortable silence seemed to last an eternity until one of Hinn’s assistants whispered in his ear what just took place. Immediately the faux healer spoke up and assured the audience that there truly is a Devil and that it is more important than ever to $upport the Church. Sometimes you just can’t fix stupid. As for me, I need a shower!

Entry 21 I am offended that some people are comparing Donald J. Trump, the 45th President of the United States, the WORST President of the United States EVER, to the Antichrist. That idea lowers the bar way too much and gives this pee-brain moron extremely too much credit. The Angel that man has created to fall from the grace of their God in Heaven, the true Ruler of this physical realm (Satan), is in no way related to this pompous asshat! Cheeto-head also gives puppets all over the World a bad name. If Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd, Lambchop, and Madame were here today, they’d be on the front lines protesting this ignorant poser. As Satan #31 in these troubled times, I’ve got my work cut out for me. With the internet, social media, and international spy’s mucking up information to the public, getting people to think for themselves and take better care of each other is going to be a quite a challenge, to say the least.

Entry 22 Just got my 6 6 6 morale patches in the mail! I’m a Beast, Baby!

Entry 23 So rock music is The Devil’s music, well DUH! Who has had the tastiest licks, best beats, and most heartfelt lyrics? A: The Devil’s music. Music began as a rhythmic form of communication. Drumming, dancing, and chanting were all primal ways of expressing emotions and stories; both joyous and tragic. This level of vibration came from the Earth, from humans, from Satan. God and his heavenly hymns are lofty and boring. I love all the controversy about rock musicians worshipping Satan, selling their souls, and making teenagers take drugs and kill people. I’m actually kind of flattered to be worshipped for my music, but the selling of souls is waaaaay out of left field. Maybe some poser of a record exec. was playing God by requiring bands to sell themselves out to his label, but I have yet to come across any ancient or recent purchased souls in my Satanic studies. Teenagers taking drugs and killing because of some richly theatrical rock band and their deeply poetic lyrics? Maybe a closer investigation into the kids home life and relationship with his/her parents and their beliefs would give more clues as to the behavior of their gothic little angel.

You see, none of it is real, NONE OF IT. It’s all illusion, a stage show, a prop. The ‘good’ - church/temple/mosque, morals, the saviors, the good-guy-in-white, and the ‘evil’ - Satanism, paganism, horror movies, rock concerts - all fake. Humans over the centuries have given these things power by labeling them as good or evil, usually to use extortion to control the masses. Often times if you look closer, you’ll see that it is evil and corruption in the good, and goodness and kindness in the evil (ie. Satan here to do good in the World). I know that this pisses off the religious-right to no end because they think that EVERYTHING has come from God. God doesn’t exist, man has created the doctrines that generation after generation has blindly followed. You’re welcome.

Entry 24 Looking at the triplex we live in, I decided we needed some upgrades. First I talked to Beth and our neighbors about me doing some upgrades to the property such as the landscaping and painting the place as well as little repairs here and there. They were all okay with it. The only one who knows how I’m really going to do it is Beth, the rest I’ll have to make it look like I’m doing the work (it’ll just get done a bit faster than usual). Second, I contacted the owner, Barbara. Barbara is an elderly wealthy widow who lives in Santa Barbara (how ironic). This property is basically a tax right off. She hates to put money into this property and only comes to see the place every few years to do a quick inspection and then raises our rent. I informed her that I will be happy to take excellent care of the building and grounds if she would cut all the units rent in half. She was aghast at first and wrote me off as a big joke. I told her to come to see her property in one month, and if she’s not impressed the deal is off. But, is she likes the improvements I’ve made we have a deal. She agreed, probably thinking that she just got some free work done on the apartment complex she owns.

The first thing I did was replace all the pipes with brand new, larger copper ones. Now none of us will have clogged and backed up sinks and toilets again, and we’ll have great water pressure. Next, I fixed all of the electrical panels with more wattage and fixed all of the outside safety and patio lights, and then added some solar panels on the roof to lighten our energy costs. For the outside, I had all the bushes and plants trimmed and healthy in our new drought-tolerant landscaping. The final touch was painting the building. I chose an earthy brown with a sage green trim, very California (faux) Craftsman. Just to make it look like I was working I’d put a few ladders, drop-cloths, and paint cans lying around and did the whole thing in about a week (so it didn’t look too magical).

The day of Barbara’s inspection. The look of shock and then odd approval was priceless. I simply explained to her that I had the time and experience to do this kind of work and since all of her tenants have been long-term renters, including us, and weren’t planning on moving any time soon, I wanted to make our apartments the most comfortable and pleasant as they can be. I had a document drawn up putting this agreement in writing which she signed without hesitation. Home is where the heart is.

Entry 25 Sometimes I like to badger Christians on Facebook that post things about thanking God for their good fortune or sending thoughts and prayers. I will pose the question, what if God had nothing to do with it and those things happened simply because they happened? Their righteous comments usually are full of, “God gave us free will” “It’s part of God’s plan” or “God has promised us our place with him in Heaven for believing and loving him.” The more I bring logic into the conversation, the more they sound like a broken record (for those of you who don’t remember vinyl records, when they got damaged or scratched the needle would get stuck on that part of the song and keep repeating), but God, but God, but God, but God, but God, but God… I figure if I keep mentioning logical things, maybe some of it will seep past their brainwashing into their subconscious and plant a seed of free thinking in that skull of theirs.

Time to get off the computer, go outside, and help a little old lady across the street.

Entry 26 Bad parenting lesson of the day - keep an eye on your children at all times. After witnessing countless parents stroll along casually as their little angels run far ahead of Mommy and Daddy, I thought a lesson in parenting was in order. Just to be clear - no parents were harmed during this eye-opening experience.

<In my best Rod Serling voice>Two young boys, about 5 year's old racing each other a good 40 feet ahead of their parents on a crowded walkway. As they approach me, I wave to them with a hello gesture and *POOF*, they're gone! Not really gone, just invisible. Physically they are there, you just can't see them. I can tell that the boys themselves were having fun with not being seen, playing tag and sneaking around people. Just to add to the mystique of their disappearance I made them silent. Not only could you not hear their voices, but you couldn't hear their movements either. Of course, I was able to see and hear them.

By the time the parents of these two little ghosts reached me, I can tell that they still have no clue where their boys are, moms eyes were glued to her cell phone playing Pokemon Go and dad was taking pictures. I motioned for the boys to come over to me. I instructed them to follow their parents for as long as they can until they stop and wonder where you are. At that point, I suggested that they give them a little scare, nothing too crazy, we don’t want to give them a heart attack.  Their screams will be my cue to make them visible again. I hope those parents learned their lesson!

Entry 27 Oh, thank Heaven, for entry twenty-seven. I’ve always wanted to have one of those Candid Camera types of shows where you do something or set up a scene to watch peoples reactions. Now I can do it anytime I like. I love being out in public, such as at a farmers market, a bar, or a restaurant. As I walk past people, I would say, “Hello, I am Satan” in their native tongue. It’s always more fun when my target is wearing a cross or some kind of religious pendant. I love doing this to cultures that are very religious - Spanish, Italian, and French are fun, but the best is saying it in Latin. I walked past a superfluity of nuns on the street the other day, I made eye contact with one of the nuns, grinned as wide as I can, and said, “Salve, Satanas sum,” then I winked and blew her a kiss. The look of horror on the other nuns was priceless, the beautifully embarrassed blush of the one I had my sights on floored me! HAIL SATAN!

Do you want to have some fun? Here are a few that you could try out yourself!

Hola, soy Satanás (Spanish)

Bonjour, Je Suis Satan (French)

Hallo, ich bin Satan (German)

Ciao, sono Satana (Italian)

Salve, Satanas sum (Latin)

Usually, once the person looks at me inquisitively and possibly asks me what I just said, I just look dumbfounded and say, “I didn’t say anything” in perfect English.

Entry 28 I've noticed a lot of pop-up churches around town lately. Signs for church gatherings and services at other established churches. For example, I saw signs for a Presbyterian Church service in front of a Korean Church. They must be renting the church for their own congregation. My question is this, how many god-damn churches do believers need? And there are new ones popping up all the time - The Calling Church, Cenacle of Faith, TLC Church, but my favorite church is the Jews for Jesus. To the J of J, I say, "Make up your fucking mind!" Is the United States government just handing out tax-exempt status like candy on Halloween to anyone who claims to be a Church?

For shits and giggles, I had bumper stickers made that say, "SATAN LOVES YOU MORE" and I take selfies with it in front of any house of worship that I come across. This was inspired by countering the JESUS LOVES YOU signs that religious fanatics carry around in public. I now have a HUGE gallery of these pics. Maybe I should make a coffee table book of them and sell them, then donate the money to organizations like the Planetary Society and the Freedom From Religion Foundation.

Entry 29 I’m a huge star on YouTube, and nobody knows it. All of those videos of cars speeding down a street and suddenly get into an accident with what appears to be nothing - that was me. Putting invisible barriers in front of speeding cars is easy. Any video with an animal painting or drawing, me. All the paranormal shows and ghost hunters that experience garbled voices, cold spots, and an electromagnetic entity, yours truly. I love video editing, the way I do it.

Entry 30 My favorite saying these days, “It’s hot as Hades!”

Entry 31 Just for fun, I posted a photoshopped picture of a King James Holy Bible in a barbecue on fire. My Atheist friends thought it was funny, but I had some folks take quite an offense to it. I get it, burning a bible is akin to burning the America flag, two extremely revered objects that people kill in the name of. Would those offended feel better if I burned a copy LeVey's THE SATANIC BIBLE? I did it to make a point - they are just objects, physical things and nothing more. The value of these items is given to them by humans. I could take a 2 X 4 of wood and say that it is the most precious hunk of a tree on the planet and if I get enough people to believe me, then I have a sacred item - The Holy Post of Satan! If you burn my Holy Post, well, then you'll have kindling. If Jesus' bloody body hanging nailed to a wooden cross could be considered sacred, then so can my 2 X 4.

Entry 32 I wonder how many other Satans there have been, and what did they do? I feel like a new regeneration of Dr. Who but as Satan. This would be a fun trivia game that I could play by myself - look at world events over the Centuries and see if I can spot the ones that were facilitated by Satan. The Roman Empire? World War 1 or 2? Did Satan #30 leave me to deal with Donald Trump?!? (Satan never gives you anything you can’t handle)

Entry 33 San Diego Comic-Con International is the largest multi-genre entertainment and comic convention in the World, and a [relatively] safe environment for someone with actual superhero/super-villain powers to strut his stuff. Since getting in shape via the Satanic method meant that I could wear any lycra costume and look awesome. I chose instead, to go with the open shirt look of, wait for it…HELLBOY! Too obvious? Actually, it’s the perfect cover. When I make lasers actually shoot from a Stormtroopers gun, or make a kid dressed as Superman fly, they’ll never suspect HELLBOY.

I did it up right, morphed myself to look just like the Ron Perlman make-up from the movie, complete with oversized stone right hand and cigar (I love smoking cigars). I even smelled like roasted peanuts (hardcore fans will understand this). Personally, I chose this character because it just felt right.

Of course, Beth joined me, her hero of choice - Carol The Bowler from MYSTERY MEN. She looked great! She wore Dr. Marten’s, black jeans, the exact same jacket with the same patches on it, nail polish, dark eyeliner, dyed green hair, and without missing a detail - the enchanted skull bowling ball. Yes, I hexed her bowling ball prop so that she had power over it.

This was our first time attending ComicCon. It’s true, this convention has gotten huge and is mostly the entertainment industry buying and selling their next (they hope) billion dollar franchise. Regardless, the costumes of the Con-goers and hardcore fans are amazing! From toddlers dressed as the ‘mini-me’ of their parents' characters to the elderly wearing skimpy costumes that they probably shouldn’t be wearing, everybody looks fantastic and has fun posing with each other for friends and the media. One of my favorite groups that were there were the folks from Magic Wheelchair. They custom design motorized wheelchairs for kids with mobility issues. They do everything from an X-Wing Fighter from Star Wars to a Unicorn Princess, to a dragon or even a pirate ship, and they are all built by volunteers. The look on the kids' faces in their matching costumes was priceless (I’m such a big softy of a nerd).

Beth had everyone amazed at how she was able to make her bowling ball fly and control it. She was having fun flying the ball directly behind someone’s head and making it hover there like a balloon. When the unsuspecting character turned around, usually after someone near them told them to look behind them, they’d find themselves face-to-face with Carmine The Bowlers grinning skull. There were more than a few macho superheroes squeal like a little girl when confronted by his boney grin.

I kind of stood out also because I made myself 6’ 6.6” tall (Corny, huh?). I had the accent and dialect down pat. Some people started to think that I was Ron Perlman making a surprise appearance, even some of the event coordinators were on their cell phones trying to figure out who I was. One of my favorite things I did was to make people act in different ways as if they were hypnotized. I might have a guy dressed as Aquaman hiss and meows like a cat, or a Catwoman bark like a dog. I freaked out a kid dressed as Shazam!, when he started acting like the character trying to figure out how to fly, I made him levitate and then fly over the heads of spectators before gracefully landing in the same spot. (Speaking of Aquaman, I think I’ve got a man-crush on Jason Momoa) When I came upon the three guys wearing the Kim Jong-un, Donald Trump, and Vladimir Putin masks I couldn’t resist. I walked up behind them as they were dancing in front of a crowd and loudly exclaimed, “Well well well, what have we got here? The 3 Stooges!” I scared the holy dictator-shit out of them! “Kimmie, go suck a nuke. Don, ‘YOUR FIRED!’ And Pooty-Poot, stay out of our business!” The crowd went fucking wild! I love comic book geeks.

Entry 34 As often as I can, I like to go into a mixed neighborhood and wander the streets. Whenever I come across people, I like to just say hi, maybe ask them a question, and then shake their hand or pat them on the shoulder. Then when I do that to another person, I give them the power to experience some of what that last person I touched thinks and feels. You might say I’m sowing the seeds of empathy and understanding. No expectations, just spreading awareness in a friendly, social way. Imagine what could happen if in some of the poorer neighborhoods around Los Angeles the Latins, Blacks, Asians, Armenians, etc. start getting along and agreeing on things - shit’s gonna change real fast!

Whenever I travel anywhere I do this. I hope this awakening goes viral!

"He say I know you, you know me One thing I can tell you is You got to be free Come together, right now Over me” ~The Beatles

Entry 35 Welcome to Hell. I have found it, and we are all living in it. Yes, it is right here, our lives on planet Earth. Religion has convinced people for centuries that there is a firey place of hellfire and damnation that you will be sent to after you die if you have sinned while you were alive. Of course in some religions such as Christianity, there's always that loophole, or as I call it your 'get out of Hell free card.' Confess your 'sins' to a priest or donate a buttload of money to the Church and *POOF* magically you are saved! It's the oldest plot line in history - good vs. evil. There is always a hero and a villain, with their minions of angels and demons to do their bidding. This story of good/bad has been used primarily to control the masses. If you behave yourself, follow the scriptures of the religion you were brought up to believe, and don't question those in power, you'll go to Heaven. But if you think for yourself, question authority and choose to sin without asking for forgiveness from their savior, you're on your way to an afterlife of eternal pain, torture, and the repetition of your sinful ways (actually that last one doesn't seem too bad).

This existence we call life is either going to be our own personal Heaven or Hell. If you feel good about how your life is going, you could say life is like Heaven and you feel blessed. If you experience stress, depression, or anxiety due to the present state of the World at large, you are in your own personal Hell on Earth. What we, even Satan myself, choose to focus on will be how we judge whether we are living in Heaven or Hell. Don't get me wrong, I love the theatrics of Death Metal and Satanic Masses, but that's all they are - theater, entertainment, with lots of smoke and mirrors. The evangelicals love the drama as well, miracles and faith healing are two of their favorite things they use to exploit believers. Most religions use the image of Dante's Divine Comedy to scare followers into believing their rhetoric, which I find very comedic. I do love how organized Hell is. There are 9 levels called Circles of Hell. Depending on what your sin was, you are sent to the appropriate Circle. Lesser violations are sent to the upper Circles, while the hardcore sinners are sent all the way down towards #9. And then there is also Purgatory, which is a kind of 51/50 (72-hour hold) of purification before being allowed to enter Heaven. It seems like a lot of politics to me.

Entry 36 Part of the work that I do as Shaitan (word for Satan from the Quran) is challenging the stereotype of being the ultimate scapegoat for everything judged as bad. This act of not taking responsibility for one's own actions has been around as long as the good vs. evil plot line. It’s easy for people to pass-the-buck onto The Devil when things don’t go right or tragedy strikes. Geraldine Jones what famous for saying, “The Devil made me do it!” If this was true, I would have quite an impressive resume to brag about.

I love changing signs and billboards that blame The Dark One into blaming God’s Wrath. I saw a sign that read

GO TO CHURCH Or the DEVIL Will Get You!

So I fixed it. Now it reads

GO TO CHURCH Or God’s Wrath Will Get You!

Here’s a billboard that I saw

SHARIA LAW THREATENS AMERICA by UnitedAmericaCommittee.org

So I changed it to

GOD’S WRATHTHREATENS AMERICA by God.com

Do they want to play the fear game? I can play the fear game!

It has always seemed to me that when God doesn’t get his way or his followers don’t abide by his rules he punishes them, ie. the story of Noah’s Ark and the big flood. Satan doesn’t demand humanity to be loyal to him, he wants people to learn, think for themselves, and enjoy life. The people who invented God use fear and power to control their flocks, while Satan sings, "Come on people now, Smile on your brother, Everybody get together, Try to love one another, Right now” by The Youngbloods. Yes, it’s true, Satan is just a big ol’ music lovin’ mush bug.

Entry 37 My favorite actor to play The Devil on television is Ray Wise from the show REAPER. His mature, suave, and sexy look and demeanor was what I would want to be like if I was The Devil. Well, here I am, not exactly the Satan I thought I’d be. But it’s okay, I’m happy with how I look and my unique style. Again, like Dr. Who, each Doctor had his own unique style. I guess that goes for Satan as well. For a favorite movie actor as Satan, I would have to say Al Pacino in DEVIL’S ADVOCATE.

John Milton: Who are you carrying all those bricks for anyway?

God? Is that it? God?

 Well, I tell ya, let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch.  He’s a prankster.  Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift and then what does He do? I swear, for his own amusement, his own private cosmic gag reel, he sets the rules in opposition.

It’s the goof of all time. Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste, don’t swallow.*laughter*

And while you’re jumping from one foot to the next, what is He doing? He’s laughing his sick, fucking ass off. He’s a tight-ass. He’s a sadist. He’s an absentee landlord. Worship that? Never! Kevin Lomax: Better reign in hell than to serve in heaven, is that it? John Milton: Why not? I’m here on the ground with my nose in it since the whole thing began! I’ve nurtured every sensation man has been inspired to have! I cared about what he wanted and I never judged him. Why? Because I never rejected him, in spite of all his imperfections! I’m a fan of man! I’m a humanist. Maybe the last humanist. Who, in their right mind, Kevin, could possibly deny the 20th century was entirely mine? All of it, Kevin! All of it!Mine! I’m peaking, Kevin. It’s my time now. It’s our time.

Entry 38 I’m finding that even in Satanism there is angst and fighting between sects. It’s sad when even groups that truly want to do good in the world are corrupted by greed and power. Too many rules and doctrines end up working against the organization that is implementing them (see The Catholic Church). Here is another example of how the trickle-down effect doesn’t work. The people who occupy the upper-echelon want to stay at the top. Giving it away may sound Saintly, but I guarantee they would rather continue their comfortable, lush lifestyle than live like the majority of society. To soothe their guilty conscious, they donate scraps of money to charities that they deduct on their taxes.

If I become aware of this kind of selfish behavior, I like to make their generous ‘contribution’ check bounce, or their wire transfer fail. Not that I want to keep support from these charities, I would just rather them come from a more honest source, such as me.

Entry 39 Amorphophallus Titanum, aka The Corpse Flower. n. Latin: amorphos (without form, misshapen), phallos (penis), and titanum (giant). The flower gets its nickname from the pungent odor similar to rotting meat or a decaying corpse.

Lil’ Stinky as we call it at the Garden is quite popular when it blooms, which seems to happen anytime within an approximate 4 to 20 year period depending on the environment and conditions. The gardens become a media circus, and people waiting with bated breath to see and smell this natural wonder.

Just last week ol’ Stinky started to open, so the folks in the Botanical Department put it out on display and alerted the media. The biggest question of the week has been, “Has it bloomed yet?” When it does, hordes stand in line for hours to get a picture and a nauseating whiff of this infamous smelly penis flower.

I decided to take this display of [morbid] botanical beauty to the next level. I waited until Saturday to begin the facilitating process, since there will be more visitors, and there also happens to be a Members Summer Concert that night as well. Not only did Lil’ Stinky open, but grew to a size of over 20 feet in a matter of hours. Along with the size increasing exponentially, the odor intensified tenfold! Breathing inside the conservatory where it is housed and displayed, was almost impossible. About 1 in every 3 people lost-their-lunch, which just added to the death-like stench. They actually had to close down the viewing in order to clean up the mess and get some fresh air in there.

And, it was I that called the good folks at The Guinness Book of World Records. You’re welcome.

Entry 40 Often throughout my life, I’ve felt that one of my roles as this character I call me has been to act as a catalyst for change. Not necessarily earth-shaking events, but a change in policy, thoughts, or relationships. Many times when I’ve been involved in an organization, whether as an employee or a volunteer, major shifts take place during my stint with them. Sometimes it has manifested as a physical move to a different location or a change in policies. Roles and relationships change. I’m not saying that (up until now) I have consciously been making these shifts happen, but in hindsight, there has definitely been a pattern.

With the influence I have as Satan, this trend will continue, but more intentionally. Lately, I’ve been going to jails and prisons as a volunteer to simply talk to inmates and give them a chance to interact with someone other than fellow inmates and guards. Many of them don’t have friends, family, or a spouse to visit them. By being a neutral sounding board for them who doesn’t judge them is a great gesture in and of itself. I assist them a bit further by clearing their consciousness a bit more about life and the choices that they have made and why they are there. Sometimes this extra assistance bleeds over to some of the others incarcerated as well as some of the guards (oops, my bad).

Personally, I would love to see all of these for-profit prisons to go out of business. The less innocent people and low-offense (such as marijuana and drug abuse) folks are locked up, the more people in society to make positive changes in the world. Crooked politicians who are invested in these human money machines will be financially pinched hard by the loss of their inhumane investment.

Entry 41 God of the Bible (Old and New Testament) judges and punishes man, Satan accepts and supports Man in his efforts to enjoy and thrive in life. Just the simple fact that God is nothing more than a concept of man’s construct mostly used to control the masses, and Satan has been a tangible force doing good in the world says a lot. We are actually living in, as best as I can describe it, a reality that is more like the Upside Down from the series Stranger Things than we think. Here, people believe that God is good, Devil is bad. Yet there has always been more harm done in the name of God than anything that the Satanic Panic has ever yielded. Crucifixion, the Crusades, and the Republican Party are good examples of this. Whereas Witches, Pagans, and Satanists have been blamed for everything from bad crops to Smallpox, to the weather. Pills are good for you, but a plant is a drug. Priests are not Pedophiles, but Heavy Metal music makes kids kill. Trump is smart, while the press is fake news. Actors make good politicians, while kids who survive school shootings are called Crisis Actors. White is the new Black, and Brown is the new bad guy.

Don’t blindly believe everything that you’ve been taught your whole life. Do some research. Allow yourself the opportunity to see things through someone else’s eyes. Ask yourself, “What if what I know about something is the complete opposite?” What if Hell was a spa, and Heaven was a desolate, frozen and dead landscape? Be careful of labels.

Entry 42 Lettuce Prey. A favorite meme of many a Satanist on social media. There is a growing movement of Atheists and other secular groups that are attacking the concept of prayer to fix things such as natural disasters and ill-health. I just watched a satirical video about praying the gay away.

pray: verb - address a solemn request or expression of thanks to a deity or other object of worship.

Expecting an invisible being to adhere to your requests because you believe in them is as naive and childish as thinking that the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny are real. I’ve heard God described as not being ‘the Great Bellhop in the sky.’ Humankind has always seemed to place its faith in events and changes outside of itself.

So my question is this, what about the myths of people selling their souls to the Devil in exchange for talent, wealth, and power? Blues guitarist Robert Johnson supposedly met the Devil at the crossroads and sold his soul in exchange for being a virtuoso on the guitar, and thus made him a blues legend. I’m beginning to think that it really was The Devil that granted Mr. Johnson his extraordinary talents, as far as the soul-selling thing, I don’t know. If it’s true that humans souls are only their emotional reaction to things such as music, and that there is no otherworldly destination called Hell, maybe the Satan at that time was playing along with the whole Heaven and Hell story to bestow those talents to Robert Johnson simply because Satan loves the Blues.

I personally think the theatrics of pleading your case to The Devil and signing a contract with too much fine print, in blood, is very entertaining. Does it mean anything? Hell no! Plus, it would put you, as Satan, directly in the spotlight and might undermine your work to do good in the world.

Entry 43 I heard from Satan #30 last night in my dreams. He came through in the middle of a pee-dream (a dream that has some urgency to it in hopes of waking you up to go to the bathroom) where I was frantically trying to get somewhere on my URB-E but could never quite make it. There he was, at every stop that I thought had a bathroom. He was just checking on me to see if I had any questions or needed any assistance. I actually said, “Where the fuck is a bathroom around here?!?” He replied, “Down the hall on the right.” After acknowledging his answer with gratitude, the only thing I wanted to know was, am I doing it right? Was I doing enough with these Satanic powers? Should I kick it up a notch? Do I look good in red? He reassured me that I was doing great and reminded me to continue to have fun with this ‘work,’ actions speak louder than words, and [almost] always use caution. He then vanished, leaving me with a full bladder and a comforted mind.

Fully awake, standing over the toilet relieving myself and smiling. Today is going to be a delicious day!

Entry 44 "Now his holiest books have been trampled upon No contract that he signed was worth that what it was written on He took the crumbs of the world and he turned it into wealth Took sickness and disease and he turned it into health He's the neighborhood bully.

What's anybody indebted to him for? Nothing, they say. He just likes to cause war Pride and prejudice and superstition indeed  They wait for this bully like a dog waits for feed He's the neighborhood bully.

What has he done to wear so many scars? Does he change the course of rivers? Does he pollute the moon and stars? Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill  Running out the clock, time standing still Neighborhood bully."

I love the lyrics to many of Bob Dylan's songs, especially Neighborhood Bully on his INFIDELS album. These are the last three verses of the song. I can't help but wonder whom Dylan was thinking of as the neighborhood bully in this song, Satan? Is Satan really such a bad guy, or has he just been labeled as the Neighborhood Bully of the World?

~

Yesterday Beth expressed to me that I don't look like The Dark Lord and I agreed, I look more like Gimli from the Lord of the Rings with a farmers tan, the only things dark on me are my arms and face.

Entry 45 This entry I dedicate to the 45th President of the United States, no really, this is the best dedication. I know dedications, I've dedicated billions and billions of dedications for many many years. I got good dedications. I am the best dedicator ever.

Just kidding! That bloated-orange headed-fast food chomping-megalomaniac who is being referred to as the evilest man on the planet is giving Satan a bad name! Maybe another nickname such as Purgatory Pete, or Donald the Damned, or simply Scum of the Earth might fit him better.

I did give him food poisoning from one of his two Big Macs, and both of his Filet-o-Fish sandwiches (this is only one meal), 3 out of 4, I was feeling generous.

Entry 46 Thanks to centuries of religious doctrines, the vast majority of people on this planet are lemmings, blindly believing anything that their holy men, politicians, and advertisers tell them. They have been trained to obey, spend more money than they have (aka credit and loans), and feel overly righteous about their culture. How does one motivate folks to think for themselves and put their differences aside?

I could help promote Dan Barker’s book - GOD The Most Unpleasant Character In All Fiction. Mr. Barker basically uncovers and highlights the vast number of times GOD is jealous, petty, unjust; an unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously, and a malevolent bully in the Old Testament. This ought to open their eyes and get someone’s panties in a bunch.

After finding out in the news that Howard Lorber, the Executive Chairman of Nathan’t Famous Inc. (the makers of Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs) was hosting a fundraiser in the Hamptons for President Trump, I thought that tainting the production of some all-America hot dogs would be a good place to start to add fuel to this fire. Choke on it, Mr. Lorber! (Hmmm, I seem to be feeling rather wrathful lately)

Entry 47 And on His 6th and 7th days, Satan rested, because those were His days off from his day job. Not that I didn’t do any good deeds, I just chill-out the most on those days; smoke pot, do a bit of cleaning around the house, fix potholes in the street we live on, smoke some more pot, nap with the dogs, cook dinner, and wipe the sweat off of my brow.

Just thought of an awesome slogan to fit-in with today's generation - SATAN IS MY SUPERHERO. Maybe we’ll start with bumper stickers, then t-shirts, hats, and capes!

Entry 48 This is going to sound odd, but as of late I have decided to not continue as a member of The Satanic Temple. Wait, Satan doesn’t want to be a member of The SATANIC Temple??? Yes, it’s true. I found out that there was a power struggle going on between the higher-up and the local chapters, so following many other Satanists, I quit. Like the rest of TST expats, I still believe in their mission and the 7 tenets, but being a part of this organization is not working for me if you get my drift (Now THERE’S a statement that shows my age!).

I’ve learned about myself that I don’t seem to last very long in an organization.  I’m kind of a lone wolf in a way. I also tend to become a catalyst for change wherever I am. Just recently I have accepted this fact as well as fully embrace it.

Entry 49 If I ever start my own metal band, I’ve got the perfect name: SEB - Satan’s Eternal Benevolence (How’s that for getting personal?!?). I’ll be the lead singer, maybe I can get Robert Trujillo (Metallica) to play bass, Kerry King (Slayer) and John 5 (Rob Zombie) on guitars, and my cousin Rod Morgenstein (Dixie Dregs, Winger) and Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters) on drums. Oh sweet the sound. Our first single - Satan Loves You More is a counter-attack to the signs, Jesus loves you, that believers like to carry around.

Entry 50 Captains Log - August 20, 2018: I’ve seen more SATAN LOVES YOU MORE stickers all around town from Pasadena to Downtown Los Angeles, the San Fernando Valley, and all the way down to Redondo Beach. Your boy gets around! Almost like a subliminal message planting a seed in their subconscious, I’m letting them know that I am there for them.

Mikey ‘The Good Christian’ Pence has been spouting off lately again. He’s still pushing for creationism to be taught in public schools, wants the government to pay for gay conversion therapy, and hinted that condoms are ‘too modern’ and ‘too liberal.’ I guess my last visit as his Almighty God didn’t get through to him, time for a more direct approach. From now on, every time Mikey mentions God, the Bible, or utters the word Christian his ass from his tight little butthole, to his cheeks, and around to his tiny little pee pee will burn like the fires of Hell that he is so damn afraid of. I guess you could say he’ll be a real Royal Flush. He’ll look like the poster boy for Red Devil Fireworks. Matadores will yell OLE! and bulls will want to gouge him with their horns. Latin Americans will call him El Diablo (Wait, I take offense to that!). This ought to be fun to watch - the VP is going to go viral!

Entry 51 On my playlist these days:

PIG - The Gospel, Risen

FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH - And Justice For None, Got Your Six, War Is The Answer, The Wrong Side Of Heaven And The Righteous Side Of Hell

PINK FLOYD - The Final Cut

Entry 52 ’Hackers’ <wink, wink> deleted the credit card debt of hundreds of thousands of credit card users, mostly VISA, MASTERCARD, and DISCOVER. A good majority of AMERICAN EXPRESS cardholders can afford their debt so they can keep it.

A homeboy was pulled over on the side of the street having car problems with his lowered, gold Chevy Impala, so as I rode by on my URB-E I nodded to him and fixed his ride instantaneously. Without even questioning what just happened, he simply gave me a nod of approval and thanks. Maybe it was my motorcycle helmet with the three devil horns mounted on it, but there was a sense of respect at that moment.

Entry 53 I had another visit from Satan #30 last night, he was just checking in on me (WOW, the Satanic support staff is AWESOME!). I shared with him that I’m getting the hang of doing the Devil’s work and I wish I could do more. He reassured me that patience is one of Satan’s best friends, but to be very aware of Vampires. I asked him if Vampires actually existed, and he was extremely assuring that they did. He said that they have been on this planet as long as man has, and as man evolved so did they. Over time they have learned techniques to blend in with mankind and improve their tactics on how to not only survive but thrive. They’ve learned how to suck the life out of someone, yet keep them alive and craving more from their vampire. This species of vampires is one of the worst. The Latin name for these vile creatures is Vampires de Emotus, or more commonly know as Emotional Vampires.

Emotional Vampires, along with their close cousins the Mental Vampires, will suck the will to live right out of you. At first, they seem like a friend or relative that is going through some frustrating issues, but the moment you step in to help, they trap you and slowly begin torturing you with their long and drawn out monologues of woe-is-me. You want to escape their grasp, but guilt overcomes you and feeds off of your decency as a human being. *Note to self: unfriend 80% of my friends list on Facebook.

Entry 54 There is a small group of homeless folks that make camp by the Gold Line Metro Station on Allen Ave. I ride past them daily on my way to work. They recognize me and wave in appreciation of my acknowledging them. They are never hostile or beg for money from me, it’s like we are neighbors seeing each other around the same time each day. The most social of the group is a guy that goes by the nickname Chuckhead (I didn’t ask.) He’s a tall - 6’5”, broad-shouldered and bald rock of a man, and also one of the kindest and most genuine I’ve ever met. Chuckhead told me that he was a steelworker from Pennsylvania, but when worked dried up because of Trump messing around with tariffs, he moved out west. With no money and no permanent address, it’s been hard to get a job and find a place to live. He hooked up with this bunch as a way to always have somebody to watch your back and what little stuff you might have.

I set up accounts with Dominos Pizza, Vons, and Jameson Brown Coffee Roaster and have them deliver to Chuckhead on a regular basis. I explained to Chuckhead that I’m doing this to assist them in taking care of themselves while living on the streets. I simply asked that they use their strength find something to do for money, that is legal, and that they feel good about themselves for doing something for themselves.

Funny thing, people in trucks and vans started coming around looking for laborers to do yard work or help someone move, hmm.

Entry 55 There is a kind of Universal Knowledge that Satan has the ability to access. It's like tapping into a vast database of history and current knowledge, sort of like how the human subconscious records everything that a person thinks, feels, and experiences, but on an infinite scale. I started to notice that when I wondered about something I would get an answer. After a little bit of investigation, I found out that this is true and started testing it. Often. This is like having the fastest internet connection you could imagine but in your head.

Entry 56 The other day I watched a DIY video demonstrating how to make a magic [looking] wand from a chopstick using a glue gun and some paint. I thought, how fun would it be to have a cheesy little wand that I can do actual magic with. No one will ever suspect that a homemade magic wand made out of the finest disposable pine chopsticks would actually be able to perform real magic. I can make up wizarding sounding words such as, "Shutus Trapus" (to silence a person), "Vanisimo" (to make someone or something vanish), and "Gigglitis" (uncontrollable laughter) to command my powers.

I bet I could make some serious change busking as a street corner magician. I'll wear a top hat and cape to give me that old-time magician look. "Hocus pocus, alacazam - turn this girl into a man!" And poof, this cute little 9-year-old eating frozen yogurt, with a flash of light and a billow of smoke, instantly becomes a full-grown bearded man wearing tight jean shorts and a t-shirt that says, 'BEAR' on it. The best part was when she hugged her dad out of fear of the light and smoke part of the show, and they both realized that she was now a big ol' he. Of course, I turned her back to her original self when I distracted the crowd with an impromptu light-show across the street.

Seeing the looks of surprise and amazement on people's faces, and the smiles and laughter is the real reason I do this kind of stuff (but the pay ain't so bad either).

Entry 57 57 Varieties of Pickles" by the H.J. Heinz Company. That’s the first thing I thought of when I realized that I was about to start Entry 57. Heinz Tomato Ketchup was my absolute favorite condiment to smother all over my french fries, onion rings and scrambled eggs.

Since California is my home turf, I healed the San Andrea's Fault. Sort of like fixing two pieces a giant ball from pulling apart by using Super Glue. No more shakers, rattlers, or fear of California falling into the ocean. No 'Big One,' just peace of mind. I don't think anyone will notice, except for the geology geeks at Cal Tech.

Entry 58 I’ve developed my own style of stove-top cooking that creates food that is to-die-for. I take a skillet with a high edge (approx. 2”) and let it pre-heat for a minute or so, then I add one drop of cannabis-infused oil to the center of the pan. As flames rise around the edge of the skillet, I place my food; vegetables, chicken, or fish, in the dead center. The flames then envelope the tasty morsels and cook them to the point where the inside is cooked perfectly and the outside is charred deliciously for the best look and feel. I call this method Satan Flambé.

Entry 59 Whenever I’ve asked a believer in God where Heaven was, they would inevitably point to the sky. Okay, I get it, Heaven is up and Hell is down, but what I want to know is why does Heaven always looks like it’s just above a bunch of fluffy white clouds, seen from the window of a plane, in our atmosphere? Believers will argue that it is beyond space, but again I ask, why does it look that way? And how the Hell do they know? The bible was written by men Centuries ago, long before air travel, they would have no way of knowing what it looked like beyond the clouds. While I’m at it, which one of those lily-white-ass holy men knew exactly what a sinner would expect when they arrived in Hell? I think some scholars with some hallucinogenic plants and a great imagination had a field day composing the greatest piece of fiction man has ever created.

Entry 60 I often hear overly empathetic believers say, “Thereby the grace of God go I” when they see someone who appears less fortunate than themselves. I figured if they can use God as their fictional character of caring, I can use any other fictional character that I choose; “Thereby the grace of Ironman go I,” “Thereby the grace of Captain Kirk go I,” and my favorite, “Thereby the grace of Satan go I.”Try it sometime, it’s fun!

Entry 61 Mankind is a tough nut to crack. From the beginning of the human race, from small tribal villages to modern urban cities, man has been in love with power. Power over another person or people, power over the environment, power over the weather. To control others and profit from this behavior has become the Universal Dream. The negative side of greed - void of morals and value for life. This is the side of greed that sees other human beings as merely a commodity, a vehicle to exploit and discard. The positive side of greed is the motivation to do more and to want better for yourself and others.

I find that individually people are incredible, more than a couple and you start to get that group mentality. Groups can be dangerous because 1) they’re larger and more powerful, and 2) they can be more easily led to believe untruths. Groups become a generality, a race or culture of people, whereas one or two people are simply that, people. Fellow human beings with histories, families, stories, triumphs, and failures.

There is an insane amount of division between folks these days. Party lines in governments, religions, economic class, ethnicity, age, sports - it always comes down to us against them. We have been divided up and fattened for slaughter. My big quandary is how in tarnation am I going to do enough good in the World to make a difference? I already knew the answer to my own question - the only one judging me on whether or not I’m doing enough good in the World is me.

“What, me worry?” - Alfred E. Newman

Entry 62 The people that totally crack me up, but are extremely dangerous to society and the environment are those that claim to be the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. From Kondratiy Selivanov and Ann Lee in the 18th Century to the nutcases Oscar Ramiro Ortega-Hernandez and Alan John Miller of today, these extremists actually think that they are the embodiment of Jesus Christ. According to Wikipedia, there are 30 of these folks from the 20th and 21st Centuries alone. This is cosplay on a whole different level. I mean yeah, you'll find guys dressed as Jesus at Comic-Con, usually riding a T-Rex and sporting an automatic weapon, but they know that they are just playing around. To spout gospel, start your own cult, and take innocent people's money, and sometimes their lives are downright criminally insane.

Here are a few quotes from Alan John (AJ) Miller, head of the Divine Truth cult in Australia, "There's probably a million people who say they're Jesus and most of them are in asylums. But one of us has to be. How do I know I am? Because I remember everything about my life."

"Just a little over 2000 years ago, we arrived on the Earth for the first time."

"My name is Jesus and I'm serious."

This guy is a classic cult leader who has done his homework. He has plucked peoples heartstrings by calling himself Jesus. He uses the 5 common methods of mind control;  1. People are put in physical or emotionally distressing situations, 2. Their problems are reduced to one simple explanation, which is repeatedly emphasized, 3. They receive unconditional love, acceptance, and attention from a charismatic leader or group, 4. They get a new identity based on the group, 5.  They are subject to entrapment (isolation from friends, relatives and the mainstream culture) and their access to information is severely controlled. Miller has mixed in scientific proof with biblical bullshit and called it Gods Truth. It sounds convincing, but come on, humans have only been around for 2000 years?!? (It's actually closer to 200,000)

*note to self: never be like that.

Entry 63 After a little research, I found out that only a handful of families own and operate the World Banks and are heavily invested in all of the Fortune 500 companies. Ah ha, so I’m not a conspiracy nut! This mafia of money has almost every major country in their very deep pockets. These money magnets figured out what makes the most money - destruction. If they create, allow, and promote any kind of disaster that will need fixing, they finance it and get fiscally fatter. War is easy, push some false propaganda about a country who doesn’t want to sell their resources to these world banks, send in a bully such as the United States to create a coup, and finance both sides of the war and the rebuilding of the country. The devastation of natural disasters is a major cash cow. Mankind has been messing around with controlling the weather [scientifically] since the 1940s. Cloud seeding is real. The larger and more powerful the storm, the more flooding and devastation, the sweeter the payout is for these robber barons. The mainstream media are puppets that they control to promote the fear-mongering and hatred that keeps people divided and fighting. To them, human beings are merely collateral cattle to do their bidding, over-populate, and die off in the slaughter.

And they say Satan is the evil one! If greed is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, these Bastards should be very dead (oh that’s right, the bible is just a book of fiction). I love to mess with their capitalistic system by hitting them where it hurts, in their wallets. I like to create boycotts of companies and products that are morally guilty and have safety issues and hazardous ingredients. Now you know why Walmart and Amazon stocks keep dropping like a lead balloon (Sorry guys, should be treating your employees better and paying them a decent wage to live on).

Entry 64 “Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64.” - The Beatles

Today I was challenged by some dimwit visitor at work. He thought he was being funny by wearing his admission sticker somewhere hidden. When I asked him if he had his admission sticker he quite confidently exclaimed, “Yes!” When I asked to see the sticker he declared, “Don’t worry, I AM wearing it.” At this point, I was ready to have some fun. I very politely said, “Game on. Let’s play. If you truly are wearing that sticker, it will begin to burn through your clothing and brandish itself onto your skin. If nothing burns, you don’t have a sticker and need to go buy one, AND one for another person waiting in line. The fire has been lit, and the burning will commence in 5, 4, 3, 2,1…

It was like watching a live action cartoon, his face went from a smartass cocky grin straight to a look of horror and confusion. I found out real quickly where he stuck that sticker. After letting him jump around smacking his own ass like he was riding in a rodeo, I stopped the burning. As a parting gift, I left the sticker inked onto his skin as a permanent reminder of our time together. What can I say, I’m a giver.

Entry 65 I love the names of some of the fundraisers that Satanic groups come up with; SOLES FOR SATAN, MASTERBATIN’ FOR SATAN, MENSTRATIN’ FOR SATAN, SATANIC BLACK MASS, SATANIC STORY TIME, EXERCISING DEMONS, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL. I think there should be something for senior citizen Satanists - CONSTIPATED FOR SATAN, GRAMP’N FOR SATAN, or for the Jewish Satanists - SHALOMING FOR SATAN. HEIL SATAN for those dedicated German Satanists, and for the White Supremacist Satanists(?) I’LL KILL MYSELF FOR SATAN.

Entry 66{6} Via one of my favorite information source, Wikipedia, some Number of the Beast history and trivia:

In Kabbalistic Judaism the number 666 does not play any significant role as such. However, the perfect number 6 and some of its multiples (e.g. 36, 72 and 216) represents the creation and perfection of the world. The world was created in 6 days, and there are 6 cardinal directions (North, South, East, West, Up, Down). 6 is also the numerical value of one of the letters of God's name, associated with the Sefirah of Tiferet, which represents harmony, beauty, and cosmic balance. Rabbi Eliezer Horovitz, quoting the Vilna Gaon, mentions in his book Mosad ha-Yesod that the number 666 contains hidden within it exalted and lofty messianic potential, but does not explain any details of this conjecture.

Jehovah's Witnesses believe that the beast identified by the number 666 represents the world's unified governments in opposition to God. The beast is said to have "a human number" in that the represented governments are of a human origin rather than spirit entities. The number 666 is said to identify "gross shortcoming and failure in the eyes of Jehovah," in contrast to the number 7, which is seen as symbolizing perfection.

Seventh-day Adventists taking this view believe that the Mark of the Beast (but not the number 666) refers to a future, universal, legally enforced Sunday-sacredness. "Those who reject God's memorial of creator-ship—the Bible Sabbath—choosing to worship and honor Sunday in the full knowledge that it is not God's appointed day of worship, will receive the 'mark of the beast.’"

"The Sunday Sabbath is purely a child of the Papacy. It is the mark of the beast.”

Idealism, also known as the allegorical or symbolic approach, is an interpretation of the book of Revelation that sees the imagery of the book as non-literal symbols. The idealist perspective on the number of the beast rejects gematria, envisioning the number not as a code to be broken, but a symbol to be understood. Idealists would contend that because there are so many names that can come to 666 and that most systems require converting names to other languages or adding titles when convenient, it has been impossible to come to a consensus. Given that numbers are used figuratively throughout the book of Revelation, idealists interpret this number figuratively as well. The common suggestion is that because seven represents completeness and is associated with the divine, that six is incomplete and the three sixes are "inherently incomplete". The number is therefore suggestive that the Dragon and his beasts are completely inadequate. Another suggestion is that this number represents an individual's incomplete or immature spiritual state.

In 1989, Nancy and Ronald Reagan, when moving to their home in the Bel-Air section of Los Angeles after the 1988 election, had its address—666 St. Cloud Road—changed to 668 St. Cloud Road. In 2003, U.S. Route 666 in New Mexico was changed to U.S. Route 491. A New Mexico spokesperson stated, "The devil's out of here, and we say goodbye and good riddance."The phobia has been a motif in various horror films such as The Omen and its 2006 remake. The number of the beast also appears in other films such as Pulp Fiction, The Doom Generation, End of Days, Bedazzled, and The Phantom of the Opera. Some women expressed concern about giving birth on June 6, 2006 (6/6/06).

I know that I should have waited until Entry 666 to lay all this Number of the Beast stuff on you, but I just couldn’t wait to share.

Entry 67 I have actually come to appreciate the creators of government, religion, and commerce. Their patience in their long-term goals of corruption and greed is unsurpassed. They knew even then, that control of the minds, hearts, and money of the masses would ensure them wealth and power. The Catholic Church has been molesting children for centuries, and followers to this day still believe that the Church is here to do good in the World. According to TIME magazine, the Catholic Church is worth somewhere between 10 and 15 billion dollars, and they don’t pay taxes on any of it! The naivety of a huge portion of the populous, for this long, is almost unfathomable. Countries have been spying on each other, keeping secrets, and starting wars not for the reasons the mainstream media tell us, but for private profit. And of course, major corporations know that enough money spent on lobbying and bribes buys you control of both governments and religion. The 'War on Drugs' is funded by the U.S. government. The U.S. military protects the poppy fields in Afghanistan, then supplies the drugs made from the poppy, and then uses the drugs as an excuse for police brutality and more drug-related arrests. Privately run prisons make a killing off of the minor drug convictions. None of this is new, they just keep getting better at pulling the wool over the sheeple's eyes. I guess you could say I am the fly in the ointment, the wrench in the system, the thorn in their side. I’m like the older brother sticking his finger an inch from his little brothers face while repeating, “I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you…”

Entry 68 It's officially Fall here in Southern California, which basically means it still feels like Summer. Daytime temps are in the 80's and 90's and humid in the evenings. It can be difficult to get into the Halloween spirit when the smell of suntan lotion fills the air and people are walking around in shorts and t-shirts. Here is Satan wishing for cooler weather <insert irony here>. I'm starting to think about what I want to be for All Hallows Eve. Since October 31 in Beth and my wedding anniversary, that night holds a special place in our hearts. Every year we do something fun and darkly-themed to celebrate our nuptials such as visit the Winchester Mystery House, take a trip to New Orleans or even go camping at a ghost town. But this year will be the first time I honor my love as Satan.

Entry 69 The yin and yang, the sex position, 96 to a dyslexic. The key is finding a balance. I'm finding out that I can't, and probably shouldn't try to save the world. A very wise supervisor once said to me, "Sometimes you've got to let it fail." This is a good reminder also to not draw too much attention to myself Satanic self. It's so easy to want to right every wrong, make every criminal pay for their crimes and be the hero, but I've got to remember - Satanic Lowriding (Satanic lowriding sounds like I'm riding around in a murdered out black Chevy Impala with red leather interior and hydraulics).

Entry 70 I have a confession, I like watching videos of people having huge pimples popped and blackheads squeezed. It's like a car crash, you don't want to look but you can't help it. Seeing the pus pulp of dead white blood cells and fresh red blood being pushed forth from the skin of their host makes me feel like I have the cleanest skin EVER! There is a woman on Facebook who goes by the name of Doctor POP that is a true artist at dermal cleansing. It's so beautifully sterile the way the patients are covered in surgical protectants leaving only the infected area exposed for Doctor POP to lacerate and squeeze like she's popping a champagne bottle with her latex covered fingers, true anatomic artistry.

Entry 71 Beth and I are not planning on having kids, but if we did, I'd like to use the names of the Devil to identify our little bundles of joy and also piss off the religious right. I just read an article about seven boys named Lucifer in England and Wales, how fun is that! Those towns are going think that it's an evil uprising coming to take over the World! I can just see our boy Lucifer burning up the streets on his skateboard, Satanas attending her first prom, and baby Beelzebub bouncin' 'round the room. My minion of misfit minors. I would teach our kids to be confident but not aggressive (unless it is necessary), to be proud of their names, and always keep their sense of humor. What will baby Bee's first word be, flies?

Entry 72 Last night I worked [security] for a wedding at the Garden. The usual big fancy set up with lots of staging, flowers, and rich people dressed to the 9's. The event was fine, until about 10:30 when a few of the neighbors in this wealthy suburb complained about the volume of the music coming from the dance floor. It was a beautiful celebration and everything was running smoothly until that visit by the police to turn things down, which did put a bit of a damper on the bride and grooms special day. As an anonymous wedding gift, I placed an invisible sound barrier around the property and told informed the DJ to turn it up. I asked my supervisor to step outside the gate of the garden near where the reception was being held to check the decibel reading. When she confirmed that it was quiet as a mouse across the street, we let the party rage on. The list of songs Mr. DJ was spinning from his laptop computer was an awesome mix of classic wedding tunes such as, "We Are Family" and "The Time of My Life, " to modern hip-hop. Mazel Tov you two crazy kids.

Entry 73 October 1st. Despite the fact that it is 95 degrees and sunny hasn't put a damper on my Halloween enthusiasm, as a matter of fact, it only motivates me more to find creative ways to celebrate All Hallows Eve. Since we are in Southern California and don't get the cool Fall weather with trees changing to a lovely Autumn orange and yellow, my image of this spooky time of year is that of an old western ghost town - dusty streets with tumbleweed blowing by, an old cemetery with wooden grave markers, and skeletons wearing cowboy hats and boots. Even though our apartment looks like we decorate for Halloween all year round, things get even more creepy during the last few months of the year. The 'Holiday Season' is a hauntingly beautiful time. Our neighbors have agreed to let me decorate the whole building, which means there will be a lot of traffic on our street due cars slowing down in amazement of our ghoulish display while expelling shrieks, ooo’s and ahhh’s. Time to start designing…

Entry 74 I had fun today at work doing nice, little, anonymous things for people. When I saw a co-worker with a handful of stuff approaching the reception door, I’d make the door gently swing open just as they arrived at the threshold. People would suddenly get great cell phone reception. Flowers would slowly fade from their original color to another hue, and then back. I even put a smile on a woman’s scowling face. Seeing the look of confusion convert to a pleasant surprise in her eyes was priceless.

Entry 75 Faux 'Service Dogs' used to really bother me when their obnoxious owners would get defensive when I would stop them to ask the two questions that, by law, I am allowed to ask, 1. Is it a Service Dog, and 2. What specific task is the dog trained to provide for their disability? The lying dog owner would always get agitated and blurt out something like, “Medical reasons” or “According to the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) you can’t ask me that” which just proves their dishonesty and arrogance. Now, I simply ask the dogs.

Today a couple tried to get in with not one, but two dogs. The white Maltese pups were on extending leashes held by the tattooed-shaved head-muscle shirt-douche with an attitude. When I asked him the questions he gave me the standard answers, they were service dogs and that I was not allowed to ask him the second question. I immediately looked down at the canines and asked them, “Are YOU Service Dogs?” to which they replied by telling me, “Service? We just want to run around, pee and poop!” They then both peed on their lying owners' legs and turn around to run back the other way. I politely look at him and said, “Service dogs huh? Get out and stop abusing a law that is for protecting the rights of disabled people whom legitimately need a dog to assist them through life.” He shot me a look of pure hatred that I found extremely humorous as they turned and stomped away, all the while his girlfriend never said a word, only rolling her eyes in embarrassment.

Entry 76 Typical of the church, they find something that people celebrate and enjoy and steal it for their own propaganda. I love a good haunted house, the more realistic the better. Hell Houses are the Christian haunted houses that show vignettes of the horrors of sinning - Anti-abortion, anti-drug, anti-free thinking, etc… The earliest hell house appears to have been created by Rev. Jerry Falwell in the late 1970s. The concept was picked up in 1992 by Keenan Roberts. His first Hell House was in Roswell, NM. Since then, he has become a pastor of the Destiny Church in Arvada, CO and sells Hell House Outreach™ kits to other churches. Included is a 263-page manual which covers everything from casting to publicity to instructions on how to make hamburger meat look like a fetus and where to store vats of blood. Roberts was once quoted saying that Hell Houses, "show young people that they can go to hell for abortion, adultery, homosexuality, drinking and other things unless they repent and end the behavior.” Can you believe this shit?!? Taking something fun like being frightened by gore and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night (which are healthy things to be afraid of), and scarring kids for life with these barbaric recruitment tactics.

There is a Hell House in West Hollywood, CA. I thought to myself, “How much fun would it be to visit their little moral macabre show and scare the Hell out of THEM?!?” So I did. It wasn’t very crowded, mostly parishioners of that church and their delusional families. I acted humble and quiet, waiting to see the horrors of modern life they were about to show me. In all of the rooms I went into, I changed the attitude of the actors to the enjoyment of the sin they were demonstratively demonstrating as opposed to the negative scare tactics of which they intended to portray. I had couples thanking God for the ability to get an abortion because of rape, men and women/men and men/women and women passionately making love, and one scene where a family was sitting around the kitchen table smoking pot and drinking wine and beer. For fear that anyone would see this gross display of carnal pleasure, this Hell House closed almost immediately after I left the premises.

Entry 77 So the story goes that back in the heyday of Rock and Roll on the Sunset Strip in Hollywood there was a drinking club made up of musicians known as the Hollywood Vampires who hung out at the famous Rainbow Bar on Sunset Blvd. next door to the Roxy club. They acquired the name Hollywood Vampires because they were only seen at night and quite often were drinking red wine. Fast forward to 2015. Three friends - Alice Cooper, Joe Perry of Aerosmith, and actor/musician Johnny Depp get together and decide to form a band to honor their dead drunk friends from rock and roll's past, and aptly name the band the Hollywood Vampires. Along with some of the best session players in the biz, the Vampires totally shred on songs by their friends from bands such as The Who, Led Zeppelin, T-Rex, and many others. I have been listening to their debut album non-stop for a couple of weeks! Alice Cooper being the rock and roll patriarch of the group owns the stage with his commanding prowess, while Joe, Johnny and the rest of the band rock the hell out of the songs of their fallen compadres. Never stop rockin’!  

Entry 78 I’m sort of happy that the folklore character Krampus is becoming more popular, at the same time I’d hate to see such kind-hearted ally become the victim of over-marketing. Krampus, in European folklore, looks like a fur-covered half goat/half demon. He plays the bad-cop to Saint Nicholas’ good-cop. While ol’ St. Nick rewarded the good children with toys, Krampus punished the bad kids by beating them with a birch switch, gathering them up in his wicker basket he wears on his back and tosses them into a special place in Hell. I’m tired of seeing all the faux goodwill towards man bullshit around Christmas time, and then it’s back to displaying our prejudices and hate to each other.

Entry 79 Not surprising, I support the supposed ‘War on Christmas.’ Of course, there is no War on Christmas, it’s just the extreme right-wing Christians that feel threatened because there are other people who celebrate the Winter Solstice differently than they do. Everything has to be “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays.” They get their Jesus loving panties in a bunch when Starbucks’ holiday cups don’t look Christmasy enough. They actually think that December 25th is the birthday of their fictional savior. Oy Vey.

Christmas lights on churches can’t seem to stay lit for some reason <wink wink>. People who display giant crosses as part of their Christmas decorations tend to find them inverted each night when they turn on their retina-burning light displays. Hypocrites who complain about Starbuck’s cups but continue to buy their coffee find that holding that not-Christmas-enough cup is impossible because it is hot as Hell in their sacred hands (making McDonald’s coffee seem like an ice bath).

Every time a choir sings, a demon gets their wings.

Entry 80 I think I’m going to take it easy for the rest of the year and wait for the overly sponsored Tournament of Roses Parade on New Years Day. Maybe I’ll hex the floats so that none of them stall or breakdown on the parade route. Happy New Year!©