Friday, July 29, 2011

The Devil in Disguise

The devil inside
The devil inside

Every single one of us the devil inside
--INXS

Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me Lucifer
Cause I'm in need of some restraint.
--The Rolling Stones

A recent TV show, replete with guttural invective and physical gyrations, concerned itself with the Devil and the people in whose bodies he allegedly resides and those who just believe in him. The "possessed" people's behavior struck me as a curiosity. If the Devil's greatest deception was to make everyone believe he didn't exist, then why the fuck is he, often in a woman's body, screaming and writhing and calling attention to himself? That ain't no way to keep a low profile, you damn dirty Devil. I capitalize the "D" in Devil because, well, we do it for God. It's a proper name, I guess, like Lucifer or Satan.He has a bunch of names, with Lucifer supposedly the one before he got kicked out of Heaven. Must be a bitch to get kicked out of Heaven, banished to somewhere beneath the ground. And it's hot. You go to hell and you get singed on the ass all day. And that's where we bury our dead. Isn't that like handing them over to Him?
How about the logic behind justifying the Devil's existence, that he has led us to believe that he doesn't exist. It's like having faith in God. We don't know he's there, but we believe he is. We can't prove the Devil's existence because he's so goddamned good at concealing it. But the Devil crawls inside people, or however he gets in there, and acts like a fucking moron.
Meanwhile, are all these temptations the Devil's handiwork. Does he make people drink? Does he make people have extramarital sex? Does he make people go to titty bars? Does he make people kill their kids? Does he make the Taliban murderers? Did he make people fly planes into the World Trade Center? If so, I guess God can't stop him. I'm familiar with the argument that people have free will and therefore are free to bomb embassies. So God just acquiesces? Turns them over to the Devil, the guy he bounced out of Heaven in the first place? Satan is so formidable that God can't kick his ass?
Anyway, back to the show. They spent some time on Long Island outside the Amityville Horror house. The show's host spoke to the stepson,
I think, of the man who lived in the house, George Lutz. This guy blamed George for the haunting, saying he brought it on himself by transcendental meditation, that most evil of evils. George summoned the Devil by meditating. The priest who came to bless the house as they were moving in said a masculine voice told him to "get out." So the Devil speaks English. I guess he speaks all languages. What's cool about the Lutzes' experience, also, is that George would hear a German marching band tuning up. I'm not sure what makes a German marching band distinct from any other marching band, but he apparently said it was German. So the Devil favors marching-band music. And so many people suggest he prefers heavy metal. Another cool aspect of the Amityville haunting is that cloven hoofprints attributed to an enormous pig allegedly appeared in the snow; I can't help but picture a Macy's float-type-pig hovering outside their windows. Also, the house allegedly boasted cold spots and odors of perfume and excrement in areas of the house where no wind drafts or piping would explain the source. The Devil shit in the basement or whatever. Defecating Devil. Or maybe it was one of those marching Germans. Rude.
Another aspect of Devil stuff the show touched on involved exorcisms. Those rituals make me wonder: If a priest can expel the Devil from someone, why can't he prevent him from getting in there in first place? Why haven't we developed protection, like the pepper spray people use to ward off bears while hiking? Devil Mace. Or special clothing like the kind that blocks UV rays. Do priests learn in the seminary how to perform exorcisms? Part of the curriculum, Exorcism 101. AP Exorcism. Credits transfer when you move on to advanced seminary. And while you're exorcising the Devil anyway, get rid of those Germans and clean up the shit in the basement.

Friday, July 15, 2011

The Butterfly Effect

I must have been about 8 years old when, with my mother's encouragement, I started a butterfly collection. Not live butterflies, but butterflies that I captured and I guess executed. I don't remember exactly, but it wasn't like there was a surplus of dead butterflies lying around with which to start a collection.
I pinned these butterflies to a board, but I must say it lacked elegance. why my mother thought dead butterflies on a board would be a worthwhile endeavor for an 8-year-old escapes me. One day, to my chagrin, I found my butterfly collection in tatters. Turns out it met its demise at the hands of my oldest brother, who, when I confronted him, simply said that yes, he had destroyed my butterfly collection.
I didn't grasp his motivation at the time, but in subsequent years I think I've come to understand. I don't think butterflies typically elicit hostility, but, in his case, they triggered something in his psyche, manifested in a destructive outburst tinged with rage.
***
I awoke last night in the middle of the night recalling my own rage and my mother's suggested remedial technique: pound the shit out of a board with a hammer. So that's what I did sometimes when I got home, if I wasn't playing basketball. Basketball or board beating? It depended on the day.
Imagine the neighbors' reaction if they had seen me, at about 9 or 10 or whatever, beating a board with a hammer. At first they probably would have thought I was retarded. Then they probably would have locked the doors in fear of the serial killer in the making. Mom's other suggestion was that I go into the bathroom and scream, which likely would have elicited a similar reaction had witnesses existed.
So, having identified that her baby festered with rage, my mother offered less-than-sophisticated solutions. When I went to a psychologist, partially on her dime, she badgered me to such an extent that I eventually stopped. I imagine she figured a good board beating held just as much benefit. I didn't revisit that stress-alleviation technique, but I suspect it would have worked about as well as it did the first time.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Model Parents

Some humans ain't human
Though they walk like we do
They live and they breathe
Just to turn the old screw....

--John Prine

Recent articles from the Associated Press:

LAKE ARIEL, Pa. (
AP) — Police say a northeastern Pennsylvania man accused of killing his newborn daughter twice dropped a cinder block on the girl because he said he and his girlfriend couldn't afford a second child.

MEDFORD, Oregon (AP) — A man has been sentenced to life in prison for killing his girlfriend's 2-year-old daughter in a brutal wrestling match.
Circuit Court Judge Lorenzo Mejia found 30-year-old Benjamin James George guilty of murder by abuse and first-degree assault in the death of Kacy Sue Lunsford. The Mail Tribune reports that the judge sentenced the former Marine on Thursday to life in prison with no chance of parole for 25 years for the murder charge.
The little girl was nearly 3 when she died on June 15, 2010, at a Portland hospital, five days after the assault.
Prosecutor David Hoppe said previous episodes of abuse ended in one night of "ultimate wrestling moves" by the 230-pound man that left the 30-pound child with collapsed lungs, a lacerated liver, internal bleeding and massive head wounds.

LUBBOCK, Texas (AP) — A father accused of abandoning his 4-year-old son along a rural West Texas highway in the middle of the night was charged Thursday with attempted capital murder, prosecutors said.
32nd Judicial District Attorney Ann Reed said she upgraded the charge against Carlos Rico after talking with the Sweetwater police chief.
The first-degree felony charge replaces the child-endangerment charge he faced after another man found his son along Interstate 20 near Sweetwater about 3 a.m. Tuesday. The 22-year-old father is accused of choking the boy and dumping him on the road about three hours before he was found.


These haven't received the attention the Caylee Anthony trial has, and, well, people are innocent until proven guilty. Interesting how the public, and CNN, zero in on a particular case, and the cable channels saturate the airwaves with their coverage. I find the cinder-block guy and the wrestling guy more intriguing. And the other guy, what irresponsible parenting, being out with your 4-year-old at 3 a.m.
I guess the Marine figured he could take the 2-year-old, and a girl at that. I bet a 2-year-old boy would have evened things out. But they likely will have defenders: "They're just kids themselves. Kids having kids."
I've observed a fair number of children, and I'm reasonably certain most know it's wrong to drop a cinder block on a baby. A kid I knew got fired from soccer camp for putting a duck in a cooler, but somehow it's not the same.
Maybe if cinder-block guy had used an anvil instead, the whole affair could have been funny. A YouTube video, perhaps, that could have recalled Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote. Could have gone viral, man, FWIW : ) Then CNN could have picked it up. No imagination. Maybe they would have done better with the other kid, but now they likely won't get the chance. I wonder if he and his girlfriend discussed the procedure beforehand.
Cinder-block guy: "Honey, how should we kill the baby?"
Girlfriend: "I don't know, maybe poison."
"No, that costs money, which we can't afford, let alone afford a baby."
"Garbage disposal?"
"And use up that fuckin' electricity?"
"Bleach in a garbage can?"
"Come on, cunt, that costs money, too."
"Well, how about one of those cinder blocks our TV is sitting on?"
"You're a genius. Sorry for calling you a cunt."

Then they could have fucked without a rubber again.
I once saw a guy dump bleach on a rat trapped in a garbage can, and I considered that unusual. So I got a sledgehammer and bonked the bleached-half-white rat a few times. A mercy killing. Die a slow death in a caustic chemical or let me dispatch with you now. Maybe I should have wrestled the rat.
But perhaps these guys aren't really disturbed; instead, they were sparing the children slow deaths, the ones that take 80 years or so and weaken you drip by drip until the dam breaks. Nah.
Babies and toddlers, however, are demanding. Diaper changes, feedings, crying, sleep interrupted, tantrums, self-centeredness. Oh, that's my mother. And babies, to be fair.
Then once in a while they look up at you with a toothless smile (the kids), and you at least imagine you start to see something in them. The purest smile. Unadulterated, untainted. And bittersweet, for you'll never again smile that way. Then they crawl and sit up and talk (and talk and talk). And you start to see some of yourself. And they imitate you and say "fuck" from their car seats when someone cuts you off. And they run down the hall to greet you at the door and cling to your legs like you're the life raft in a turbulent sea. And if you're open to it, a love develops like none you've ever known. And when they're at their most uncompromising, you try to bear in mind that they, unlike the dog, won't always run down the hall and nearly knock you over in their zeal.