GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #666: HAIL SATAN!

Hail Satan!

 

It's the number of the beast. Welcome to tonight's special Hell-themed edition of Goodnight, Fuckers! Kinda.

You know my feelings about the devil. I've expounded upon this ad nauseum. You might have fun revisiting this GF, for example. Or perhaps you would like to help me financially by purchasing a copy of my Kindle-only book, 6669: Demon Porn. I feel that it's impossible to masturbate while reading it, but I've been told that I'm wrong on that one. Your mileage may vary.

At any rate, I'm going to talk about why devil/hell/possession type horror movies don't scare me. They don't even interest me. Mostly. In order for films like that to truly get to you, you must have some kind of belief, or at least suspicion, that God and Satan are real, that this kind of thing *could* happen to you. And I don't have that belief.

I'm going to pick on The Exorcist for a second, mostly because that's the king daddy of all devil movies. The Exorcist isn't scary, and I know I'm in the minority on that one. My mom told me stories of how terrified she was when she saw it in the theater, and how everyone went around talking about how if you saw this movie, demons would follow you home, etc.

I think Stephen King is a little closer to the truth on this one. I'm pretty sure he said, in Danse Macabre, that The Exorcist is really about a little girl hitting puberty and changing, and how much that horrifies her mom. Considering the political climate at the time, I can see why something like that would resonate with an older audience. Viewed that way, it can be seen as a dark comedy. Keep in mind, William Peter Blatty was mostly known as a humorist before The Exorcist. Not only that, but he was a conman of sorts.

Don't believe me? Give this a read. And make sure to watch the video there, too.

And then there's the garbage about human sacrifice. Horror, no matter the medium, has a surplus of devil worshipers sacrificing human beings to said devil, and it's all silly. I extend that to people, mostly in the latter half of the 20th Century, who were afraid of getting sacrificed to Satan, themselves.

If you're being sacrificed to Satan, then the odds are that the person trying to kill you is an idiot who doesn't know what he's doing. You can probably get away from someone that stupid. Unless, of course, and here's where the odds are against you, that person knows and loves you.

Because if you're a stranger who has been abducted for the sole (soul?) purpose of being sacrificed to the devil (or Cthulhu or [place name of god here]), then that person doesn't understand the nature of sacrifice. What is that person sacrificing? Why would killing you take anything away from him?

I'd be a lot more concerned about people being sacrificed to God. Remember Abraham? God told him to kill his son. Abraham didn't want to because he loved his son. Still, God's will must be obeyed, so he got ready to do the deed. Abraham at least understood the concept of sacrifice. By killing his son, he would be giving up a great deal.

So I guess the whole point of this is a heads up. Remember, kids, if you're going to sacrifice someone to Satan, they have to be someone you love and care about. Satan won't listen to you any other way.

Goodnight, fuckers. Hail Satan.

OK, hailing Satan can be a little sexy sometimes. I'll give it that.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #652: SAIL HATAN

Sail Hatan

 Many years ago, during a White Wolf campaign taking place a thousand years ago in England (or maybe it was Scotland?), we had a pirate character, and I named his ship the Sail Hatan. Over time I decided that if I ever owned a boat, I would call it the Sail Hatan.

Last week I found myself heading out to Crystal Lake, and it was the first chance I got to take my new car, a 2020 Honda Accord Sport, on the expressway. I wanted to get it up to a hundred, but traffic was a little slow, so I had to live with a mere eighty. It impressed me a great deal. It's a smooth ride, and it doesn't fuck around.

On Saturday I went down to Braidwood, and it was my second chance on an expressway. Unlike Crystal Lake, Braidwood is in the middle of nowhere. If you get out past Aurora on I-55, there is practically no traffic. So yeah, I pushed it up to a hundred, and I was very pleased with the results.

You know how dickheads like to rev their engines and then peel out while their cars roar like beasts? I find that to be excessive and not necessary. Kind of like a dickhead who acts tough. Acting tough and being tough are two different things, and those who actually are tough don't need to act tough.

My car gets up to a hundred very fucking fast without the theatrics or the noise pollution. This car has balls, and it performs like a dream.

I'm never going to own a boat. But I think this car has earned the name Sail Hatan. So it is written, so it is done.