There Will Always be Whiners.

Let’s talk about you. I’m hard on you, apparently, I’ve received some complaints to that effect. To these I reply, yes. I am Satan, it’s my pleasure.

Let me just add that ye masses be ugly, most of you deserve it and you know it.

I am not the first wordsmith to say it, merely the most charming. You have been talking about yourselves since you learned how. Every new thing you ever make is dedicated to your glory. You can’t simply own the planet; you must destroy it.

You’re not satisfied with driving flora and fauna to extinction, you must master the bit that is left. You must teach it to obey, for its own good. As I have said elsewhere, you’re proper rationalizers, why do you think I employ so many of you? Skills like that are valuable.

Can you imagine how you look to a being that can watch you evolve over and over again? On fast forward, if I wish, or its reverse, I like to skip around, how many times can you see the Hundred Years War? The Romans can go on repeat, lots to like. The Chinese stay virtually the same for millennia, a slow, creeping menace.

So many wars, on such pretexts, marvellous really, I think I can speak for other gods when I say ‘Bravo!’ and “Encore!” But they’re all on the same theme, you just amp up the weapons cache. Very boring. Right up there with religion, not my best work, there are times when I regret my own brilliance.

The sieges, the battles, heroic or otherwise, the grim wars without mercy, (think Cambodia,) they’re all about death and I’m not interested in it, for obvious reasons. First and foremost, it doesn’t apply to me.

I went for the stories, each one tied and knotted at my feet. The death is nothing, it’s the life that brought him to it that matters. The decisions that are made, foolish, brave, deluded, desperate, the reasons can go back centuries, imagine following the threads. All the way back, what do I see? That you haven’t changed. It’s still club and cave with you, small world mentality across your wide and harried planet. You breed true, sadly.

I went for the victims, the ragged hearts, the broken souls, I may be an emotion junkie.

I went for the accounts of actual participants, both sides, the reporting thereof, the translation, the rewording, the messages, the beautiful structure you’re building. Did I comfort a few newly widowed bits of delicious? Did we all consent? Did they enjoy it? Did I?

A gentleman never tells.

“Chop Suey!” by System Of A Down Serj, I love you, you must have grown up by now, where are you and your gorgeous voice?