Sympathy for the Devil

In a recent comment, Debra (the dear! [1]) exhorted me to “not go over to Satan”. As is usually the case with Debra, this was wise and insightful advice. Unfortunately, it is not easy advice to follow. The Prince of Temptation has done a real number on me. I mean, just look at him:

Satan on a cruise

With that broad chest and manicured goatee, he would fit right in on Fearsome’s blog:

Satan portrait
Cuddly Beard

As you know, I am not much of a Christian. Everything I know about Satan comes from the documentary South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. (Incidentally, this is also where I learned everything I know aboot Canada.) Although it was released in 1999, the documentary has aged well. In the film, Satan has recently gotten into a same-sex relationship with Saddam Hussein, but already the relationship is rocky.

Saddam and Satan

Being from 1999, you might think that the filmmakers would portray Satan and Saddam’s relationship as a great big joke, and although there are jokey elements, the issues that Satan and Saddam face are not that different from any straight relationship where one partner is a tone-deaf, emotionally abusive jerk:

Kenny asks Satan what is wrongSaddam doesn't nurture Satan's emotionsSaddam just wants sex and can't learn to communicate

The thing is, Satan just wants the same thing every gay on Grindr is looking for: love and companionship with someone who understands them and appreciates them for who they are inside. But I have some news for you, Satan: Saddam isn’t that guy. He is not good enough for you.  You’re gorgeous, and you have a job, and you have that deep resonant voice that would fit right in with a Gwaenysgor choir. You can do so much better than Saddam Hussein Abd al-Majid al-Tikriti.

Girl, I know you have baggage. We all have baggage. Sure, Jesus doesn’t like you. Join the club. Sure, a lot of people don’t like your career. The thing is, every society has unpleasant tasks necessary  in order to keep it functioning, and we should celebrate you — not disparage you — for being willing to get your hands dirty and do what needs doing. Sure, you are the embodiment of evil and sin in the world, but does that mean you don’t deserve love? That it is okay for that Saddam to mistreat you and diminish your self-worth?

I don’t care that you skip leg day. I think you are gorgeous, and although I am no catch I would like to think I would make a better boyfriend for you than that Saddam. I would listen to you go on about whatever book you are reading. We could stay up and cuddle instead of just having sex. Admittedly, my immortal soul is a pretty steep price to be in a relationship, but am sure we could work something out.

Oh, who am I kidding? I wouldn’t be a better boyfriend than Saddam Hussein. If anything I am more controlling and less mature than him. At least Saddam was good in bed, and he managed the affairs of an entire country for decades. Meanwhile I can’t pull myself together enough to get to the grocery store before it closes. Come to think of it, I suck at both nurturing emotions and at communicating effectively. Debra is completely right. I am not boyfriend material for anybody, and I should keep well enough away. I have hurt more than enough people for one lifetime, and you deserve better.

But don’t give up hope, little horn. Somewhere out there there’s a boyfriend who is kind and supportive waiting for you, and I hope that you and he will cross paths sooner rather than later.

Satan looking up

[1] Yes, as we recently learned, this expression is not intended to be entirely complimentary. I do not care; we should never let facts spoil a good catchphrase. All of you (well, most of you) are dears, and you will just have to deal with it.

11 thoughts on “Sympathy for the Devil

  1. Ha!
    A big-chested, affection-starved, goateed Satan is my cup of tea, too. Did you know I lusted heavily after Tim Curry as Darkness with his wide shoulders, deep voice and huge pecs in that Legend movie? No? Yes, today, Satan!
    Ok, so then on to you and your Lurkie ways. First, I cackled when you mention that every gay on Grindr is looking for true love. You are too funny. Second, if any of those masc for masc harebrained gym bunnies would have one third of your self-awareness, Grindr would cease to exist: they would all drop to the ground under the weight of the realization they are, indeed doomed.
    You say you suck at emotions and at communicating. Hello? Have you read your blog? The lad doth protest too much, IMHO. So what if you’re 300 years old? So what if you don’t have a 30-inch waist? The thing is, to cross paths with your Lurkie-in-waiting, you need to get your once-perkier butt out.
    Don’t make me go and drag you out of your lair! I may not have the big chest and the goatee, but I can be a persistent little devil.

    Big hugs and smooches.



    1. I am so glad Tim Curry had a career after Rocky Horror. I had not heard of this movie, but I saw a clip on Youtube and I can see why you were besotted.

      Personally, I think the masc for masc gym bunnies have a lot more self-awareness than I do. You have to be pretty self-aware to grow your muscles so big.
      Please do not confuse omphaloskepsis with being emotionally supportive.


  2. Hahahaha, you snarky little bastard you — I laughed all the way through this! So, you learned everything you know aboot Canada from the “documentary South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut,” did you? I’ve got your number, kiddo. No inadvertent “spelling mistakes” in this post?


    1. Yikes! It’s the poulice!

      You’ve gout nou proouf, coupper! Sure you can geotrack my IP address and jump oun my spelling errours, but that woun’t hould up in court!


    1. Oh wait. That’s not what you were talking about at all. The answer is still no, though. Rosemary smells nice and all, but I am not overly fond of the flavor. If anything I am Cilantro’s bitch, although I always have time for Thyme, and savor Summer Savory when it is in season.


    1. I am not really a dear. You, however, are definitely a dear.

      TBDHSR tells me I have to stop appropriating your catchphrases lest they sue me for trademark infringement, or alternatively chop off my fingers.


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