The Engineer and I were floored when our editors announced to us that they had been contacted by Satan for the purpose of granting us an interview with him. Beyond our hardy throng of fans (all four of them) Old Scratch himself had been perusing our blog without us knowing it. Our editors said they understood if we declined to allow the Archfiend to use our forum as a means of spreading evil, but faithful to our mission to 'shine light into darkness' we were unanimous in our resolution to meet face-to-face with the Biblical figure and report on it.
The following day we were whisked off to an undisclosed location in a charted Leer jet with its cabin windows shut. Three hours later we were ushered into a limousine, blind-folded. An hour later, when our blind-folds were removed, we found our selves seated in leather salon chairs joined by an elderly gentleman wearing a dark suit and a red tie. Beyond where we sat it was too dark to make out the dimensions of the room we were in.
"Ah, gentlemen. I trust that the journey was comfortable. Thank you for coming. I'm kind of busy, so let's get straight down to business, shall we? I trust that you have some questions prepared for me."
"Yes sir," I piped up. "As a matter of formality, how should we address you? Lucifer, Beelzebub, Lord of Vermin, Auld Ane?"
"No, no," he said waving his hand and chuckling. "Bob."
"Bob?" The Engineer and I asked, visibly puzzled.
"Yes, Bob. I like the way it sounds. It's short for Beast of Babylon."
"Good enough," I said. "Well, um, Bob--Are you a Yankees fan?"
"Most definitely."
"Coke or Pepsi?" asked The Engineer.
"Pepsi," Bob responded.
"What are your favorite television programs?" I asked.
"Oh, Project Runway, Dancing with the Stars--Tom Delay is great, don't you think? I've already fixed it so that he'll win--and, let's see, Martha Stewart, South Park, and well, just about everything on Fox News. Glen Beck is simply poignant."
"So, I take it that you are a Republican," asked The Engineer.
"Hell no. I'm a right-wing, born-again Christian." He paused to see what affect that zinger had on us. Frankly, we were dumb-struck.
"A Christian?" I asked.
"No, not really--but I am pretending to be one. I know it sounds cynical, but in this day and time, it's where I fit in best--deep in the bowels of the far right, Christian movement. It has always been my purpose to obfuscate, conceal, dissemble, stagnate and confuse, while halting progress and fostering fear. Evolution is God's shtick, not mine. My goal is to keep things just the way they are, and if I'm lucky, drag them backwards. Devolution is my prime directive.
"It was in the eighties when I noticed these characters like Pat Robertson ,Jerry Falwell, James Dobson and Oral Roberts, and thought, 'Hell, I need to get into that business.' It was the perfect plan. Get the 'speak' right, hit all the hot buttons, and the true believers--poor gullible sots--will line up to give you what little money they have, and do and believe just about anything you tell them. You want to know where you are?"
We nodded.
Bob snapped his fingers and the lights came on. "Holy shit!" exclaimed The Engineer.
"What the fuck," I announced. We were sitting in the middle of a large stage, below a mammoth cross, situated in the sanctuary/arena of a mega-church. Bob laughed maniacally.
"That's right, I'm the right reverend pastor of this her little church," Bob said with a perfect southern-preacher accent. Reverting back to his normal manner of speaking he said, "Mark my words: Under the cloak of Godliness I will bring as many into this fold as possible, preach hate, division, and fear. I will inculcate the notion that there is a 'real' America, and an 'unreal' America. I'll teach my flock that the road to heaven is paved with abstinence-only sex education, home-schooling their children so that they will never learn science, art or to properly employ reason and logic. It will be their mandate to hate homosexuals, intellectuals and Democrats and everyone else that doesn't think exactly the way I tell them to.
"I will take their minds, twist them, and plunge them in unimaginable darkness whilst they believe they are on the path of righteousness and redemption from their sins. They will feel like their way of life--the only way--is under siege by the non-believers and that a time will come very soon that Armageddon calls upon them to rise up and wage war and destruction against all sinners, and take this nation back, and replace The Constitution of the United States of America with Biblical Law, and have every living soul that does not repent and accept Jesus Christ as its savior put to death by stoning. It will be beautiful--the way my followers imagine that the fifties were. And then we'll wait for the rapture, which will not happen, of course, and I'll disappear leaving them rudderless in a sea of confusion.
"After having dragged humanity back to the dark ages, my minions and I will throw a party, get drunk, have some wild sex and take it easy for a while--relax and recharge the battery, so to speak. What do you think? Sounds good, huh? "
"Why are you sharing this with us?" asked The Engineer.
"Well, it's no fun if you can't take some credit for an evil plan, is it? Anyhow, no one will believe this interview happened."
"True enough," I said. "Well, this has been enlightening. We need to get going--I have to get the yard mowed today. It is out of control."
"Yip, I've got to get home to feed my koi. It's been three days. They must be ravenous."
"Wait, wait," pleaded Bob. "Stay awhile. Can I get you something to drink--a Pepsi?"
"No, no," I said standing up. "You're too kind."
"Very well, then. Thank you for coming," he said shaking our hands. "Sarah," he yelled. A woman came out of the wings of the stage. "Please escort these gentlemen to the limousine."
"You betcha, Bob."
The following day we were whisked off to an undisclosed location in a charted Leer jet with its cabin windows shut. Three hours later we were ushered into a limousine, blind-folded. An hour later, when our blind-folds were removed, we found our selves seated in leather salon chairs joined by an elderly gentleman wearing a dark suit and a red tie. Beyond where we sat it was too dark to make out the dimensions of the room we were in.
"Ah, gentlemen. I trust that the journey was comfortable. Thank you for coming. I'm kind of busy, so let's get straight down to business, shall we? I trust that you have some questions prepared for me."
"Yes sir," I piped up. "As a matter of formality, how should we address you? Lucifer, Beelzebub, Lord of Vermin, Auld Ane?"
"No, no," he said waving his hand and chuckling. "Bob."
"Bob?" The Engineer and I asked, visibly puzzled.
"Yes, Bob. I like the way it sounds. It's short for Beast of Babylon."
"Good enough," I said. "Well, um, Bob--Are you a Yankees fan?"
"Most definitely."
"Coke or Pepsi?" asked The Engineer.
"Pepsi," Bob responded.
"What are your favorite television programs?" I asked.
"Oh, Project Runway, Dancing with the Stars--Tom Delay is great, don't you think? I've already fixed it so that he'll win--and, let's see, Martha Stewart, South Park, and well, just about everything on Fox News. Glen Beck is simply poignant."
"So, I take it that you are a Republican," asked The Engineer.
"Hell no. I'm a right-wing, born-again Christian." He paused to see what affect that zinger had on us. Frankly, we were dumb-struck.
"A Christian?" I asked.
"No, not really--but I am pretending to be one. I know it sounds cynical, but in this day and time, it's where I fit in best--deep in the bowels of the far right, Christian movement. It has always been my purpose to obfuscate, conceal, dissemble, stagnate and confuse, while halting progress and fostering fear. Evolution is God's shtick, not mine. My goal is to keep things just the way they are, and if I'm lucky, drag them backwards. Devolution is my prime directive.
"It was in the eighties when I noticed these characters like Pat Robertson ,Jerry Falwell, James Dobson and Oral Roberts, and thought, 'Hell, I need to get into that business.' It was the perfect plan. Get the 'speak' right, hit all the hot buttons, and the true believers--poor gullible sots--will line up to give you what little money they have, and do and believe just about anything you tell them. You want to know where you are?"
We nodded.
Bob snapped his fingers and the lights came on. "Holy shit!" exclaimed The Engineer.
"What the fuck," I announced. We were sitting in the middle of a large stage, below a mammoth cross, situated in the sanctuary/arena of a mega-church. Bob laughed maniacally.
"That's right, I'm the right reverend pastor of this her little church," Bob said with a perfect southern-preacher accent. Reverting back to his normal manner of speaking he said, "Mark my words: Under the cloak of Godliness I will bring as many into this fold as possible, preach hate, division, and fear. I will inculcate the notion that there is a 'real' America, and an 'unreal' America. I'll teach my flock that the road to heaven is paved with abstinence-only sex education, home-schooling their children so that they will never learn science, art or to properly employ reason and logic. It will be their mandate to hate homosexuals, intellectuals and Democrats and everyone else that doesn't think exactly the way I tell them to.
"I will take their minds, twist them, and plunge them in unimaginable darkness whilst they believe they are on the path of righteousness and redemption from their sins. They will feel like their way of life--the only way--is under siege by the non-believers and that a time will come very soon that Armageddon calls upon them to rise up and wage war and destruction against all sinners, and take this nation back, and replace The Constitution of the United States of America with Biblical Law, and have every living soul that does not repent and accept Jesus Christ as its savior put to death by stoning. It will be beautiful--the way my followers imagine that the fifties were. And then we'll wait for the rapture, which will not happen, of course, and I'll disappear leaving them rudderless in a sea of confusion.
"After having dragged humanity back to the dark ages, my minions and I will throw a party, get drunk, have some wild sex and take it easy for a while--relax and recharge the battery, so to speak. What do you think? Sounds good, huh? "
"Why are you sharing this with us?" asked The Engineer.
"Well, it's no fun if you can't take some credit for an evil plan, is it? Anyhow, no one will believe this interview happened."
"True enough," I said. "Well, this has been enlightening. We need to get going--I have to get the yard mowed today. It is out of control."
"Yip, I've got to get home to feed my koi. It's been three days. They must be ravenous."
"Wait, wait," pleaded Bob. "Stay awhile. Can I get you something to drink--a Pepsi?"
"No, no," I said standing up. "You're too kind."
"Very well, then. Thank you for coming," he said shaking our hands. "Sarah," he yelled. A woman came out of the wings of the stage. "Please escort these gentlemen to the limousine."
"You betcha, Bob."
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