While scrolling through Facebook the other day, I came across a meme by D R (not Dr.) Harper, in which Harper, “in humility and love,” suggests that listening to Taylor Swift is to invite the imps of Hell into your home, where they will leave cloven-hoofed muddy footprints in your hall and eat Flaming Hot Doritos in your bed.
Or something like that. Honestly, I’ve said enough about Taylor Swift and her hatred by the Biblical set here, and was about to scroll on by, when I found a link to Harper’s sermons and was immediately drawn to the first one, captioned, “Your First Night in Hell.” Without a trace of irony, the video was presented by a ministry called the Voice of Hope.
I expected sort of a guidebook, anything from where you could stack the handbasket you arrived in to how much to tip the Maître Demon. You know, useful information for people getting ready for their rookie season in Hell.
It wasn’t that. Really, Harper believes that your first day in Hell is going to be like all of your other days in Hell, full of fire, brimstone and darkness. You get there by not sucking up to Jesus sufficiently. Really, that’s the only sin that you need to get in. All that other lying, murder and adultery you’ve been engaged in, hoping to qualify for the Abode of Darkness, is strictly unnecessary. Just turn your back on Jesus for one minute, like you do when you catch the fourth quarter of a tight game or watch a pantyhose commercial, and you’re in.
I thought I probably shouldn’t just take the Rev’s word for it, and decided to consult other sources. I logged into Microsoft Teams (Hell has become an all-Microsoft workplace, because that makes it a little more Hellish) and drew a pentagram on the screen. Almost immediately, Lucifer appeared.
“What now?” he said, in the dull voice of a satanic being who was really getting fed up with eternity. Not the frightening tones you’d expect from the Lord of All Evil, but more like a tired middle manager who knows his work will never, ever, stop or get more interesting.
I described the minister’s description of a soul’s first day in Hell to the Prince of Darkness.
“Really? He said that? Has he been here?”
I think you would know that better than me.
“It’s tough to keep track. He does sound like he’s on his way, though. We’ll try and live up to his expectations when he gets here, though I can’t promise him anything for sure.”
What’s it like for the average condemned soul when they step through the Gates of Perdition, then?
“Depends on how busy it is. Couple of wars going on now, so it’s humming. Just check in at the front desk…”
Hell has a front desk?
“Of course we do, although some of the younger eternally damned think we ought to have an app for checking in so they don’t have to deal with the fallen angels at the front desk. Millennials! Not that many of them here yet, so we don’t feel much pressure to update. If you have a major credit card, we’ll take that for room service…”
Hell has room service?
“Naturally. Of course, it’s not really great room service. In fact, the only thing we serve is cups of ice chips. They’re surprisingly popular.”
I can see why.
“Then, just wait around for your turn to get tormented.”
You have to wait to be tormented? That doesn’t sound like eternal suffering to me.
“Surprisingly, we do get a few complaints regarding that, from the damned who long to be eviscerated, but most lost souls don’t bitch about it. My demons have been slicing, stabbing and roasting people since the beginning. If they want to take a few hours off to sit by the Lake of Burning Lava, relaxing on the Sulfur Sands with a juicy novel on their Kindles once in a while, I can’t blame them, and most of my denizens don’t miss their scheduled hot pitchfork in the liver too much if we have to skip it.”
So that’s it? Just sit around in an overheated room for all eternity, occasionally getting stabbed in the guts by a bored bureaucrat? What about people who really deserve Hell? Trump? Putin? That bald guy on Pawn Shop?
"When a special case arrives, it’s all hands on deck. My really creative demons start brainstorming, and all leaves are cancelled.”
What about Taylor Swift’s first night here?
“Oh, that’s sold out.”
Or something like that. Honestly, I’ve said enough about Taylor Swift and her hatred by the Biblical set here, and was about to scroll on by, when I found a link to Harper’s sermons and was immediately drawn to the first one, captioned, “Your First Night in Hell.” Without a trace of irony, the video was presented by a ministry called the Voice of Hope.
I expected sort of a guidebook, anything from where you could stack the handbasket you arrived in to how much to tip the Maître Demon. You know, useful information for people getting ready for their rookie season in Hell.
It wasn’t that. Really, Harper believes that your first day in Hell is going to be like all of your other days in Hell, full of fire, brimstone and darkness. You get there by not sucking up to Jesus sufficiently. Really, that’s the only sin that you need to get in. All that other lying, murder and adultery you’ve been engaged in, hoping to qualify for the Abode of Darkness, is strictly unnecessary. Just turn your back on Jesus for one minute, like you do when you catch the fourth quarter of a tight game or watch a pantyhose commercial, and you’re in.
I thought I probably shouldn’t just take the Rev’s word for it, and decided to consult other sources. I logged into Microsoft Teams (Hell has become an all-Microsoft workplace, because that makes it a little more Hellish) and drew a pentagram on the screen. Almost immediately, Lucifer appeared.
“What now?” he said, in the dull voice of a satanic being who was really getting fed up with eternity. Not the frightening tones you’d expect from the Lord of All Evil, but more like a tired middle manager who knows his work will never, ever, stop or get more interesting.
I described the minister’s description of a soul’s first day in Hell to the Prince of Darkness.
“Really? He said that? Has he been here?”
I think you would know that better than me.
“It’s tough to keep track. He does sound like he’s on his way, though. We’ll try and live up to his expectations when he gets here, though I can’t promise him anything for sure.”
What’s it like for the average condemned soul when they step through the Gates of Perdition, then?
“Depends on how busy it is. Couple of wars going on now, so it’s humming. Just check in at the front desk…”
Hell has a front desk?
“Of course we do, although some of the younger eternally damned think we ought to have an app for checking in so they don’t have to deal with the fallen angels at the front desk. Millennials! Not that many of them here yet, so we don’t feel much pressure to update. If you have a major credit card, we’ll take that for room service…”
Hell has room service?
“Naturally. Of course, it’s not really great room service. In fact, the only thing we serve is cups of ice chips. They’re surprisingly popular.”
I can see why.
“Then, just wait around for your turn to get tormented.”
You have to wait to be tormented? That doesn’t sound like eternal suffering to me.
“Surprisingly, we do get a few complaints regarding that, from the damned who long to be eviscerated, but most lost souls don’t bitch about it. My demons have been slicing, stabbing and roasting people since the beginning. If they want to take a few hours off to sit by the Lake of Burning Lava, relaxing on the Sulfur Sands with a juicy novel on their Kindles once in a while, I can’t blame them, and most of my denizens don’t miss their scheduled hot pitchfork in the liver too much if we have to skip it.”
So that’s it? Just sit around in an overheated room for all eternity, occasionally getting stabbed in the guts by a bored bureaucrat? What about people who really deserve Hell? Trump? Putin? That bald guy on Pawn Shop?
"When a special case arrives, it’s all hands on deck. My really creative demons start brainstorming, and all leaves are cancelled.”
What about Taylor Swift’s first night here?
“Oh, that’s sold out.”
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