I love rainy days.
Some of my best thinking happens when there's no reason to go out the door.
Today, as I looked out the window at my patch of gray sky and the GDOT landscaping which serves as my buffer against the constant stream of traffic on I-75 as it enters the downtown connector, some very simple things I've never truly understood became clear.
Evil really is banal, and boring.
My dalliance with it has been unsatisfactory, and without any detectable high spots.
When it's the real thing, it's just a bloody mess, and when it's play-acting it's childish and repetitious. In the absence of any new models for the Devil, people simply adapt the old ones with little imagination or gusto. Most of the entertainment value in these charades comes from the intoxicants associated with the rituals, and not from any dangerous thrill that comes through approaching some forbidden unknown.
I'm not going to waste any more time on my honky-tonk friends.
They'll either come to see themselves for what they really are and change, or they'll deteriorate into the hideous self-parodies readily observable among elders in the lifestyle. Souls aren't well-nourished on the dark side, and without robust souls, men and women rapidly age and die. I understand there is the occasional person who thrives in darkness, but they must be rare beings indeed. I haven't seen one in my travels.