Holidays

Yes, I know.
Holidays is a corruption of Holy Days, not exactly my cup of tea, but we all need a few days of every once in a while.

Delhi accommodation

I'm off to Dehli for the Commonwealth Games.
I've been hearing from my agents over there, and our plans are now complete.
These events are going to cause so much angst and despair it'll be like being back in Hell, so it saounds nice for a little break.

Be seeing you.

The Popes

Hi again future clients,
keeping well?

Hmm pity.

The next section to see is one of the smallest.  The smallest is the special Hell I've made for Adolf, he's over there in the Ghetto.  I'm not going to describe Adolf's little corner, it's just too awful, and I've just eaten.
Now where was I?

The Sistine Chapel

Ah yes, the Popes.
Too be fair, some of them aren't here, they're with Her upstairs, but that's just four of them.  The rest are over there, in that copy of the Sistine chapel.  Most of these gentlemen are down here with me, because of office politics.  They knew what the right thing to do was, the choice which would have been to the benefit of their members, but instead they took another choice.
There's a long list from these boyos
Contraception (The Pill)
Stem cell research
Abortion
Contraception again (Condoms)

Contraception yet again (The Rhythm method)  These guys are really obsessed with sex.
Gay priests
Gay priests buggering little boys under their care (I've got a really special section down here for these bastards, staffed by my most inventive demons, but under the supervision of Torqameda, Ghenghis Khan, Eichmann and de Sade.  Pol Pot is occasionally used as a consultant.
Celibacy (Surely the most stupid idea ever to come out of any organisation, even the UN)
Hypocrisy
Simony
Murder (good example form the "Head of the Church", but there were a lot in the 14th and 15th centuries)
The list goes on and on.

Inside the chapel , the art is as good as the original.  Well it should be, I've got Michelangelo down here.  (Most artists and musicians end up with me. The poor sods have so much creative energy pent-up that they do the most appalling things just to get some relief)
But the art is changed, it's much more lascivious.  The popes are all chained into comfortable thrones, their hands secured.
A constant flow of naked and semi-naked men and women pass by, doing the most erotic things to each other, but the Popes cannot touch, they cannot speak, they cannot move.  Think of the frustration which builds up, especially as this goes on for ever (literally)
It just gives them a taste for the frustration many of their flock felt when the stupidity, venality and corruption of the Church was made public.

These guys did a better job of driving millions down to me than anyone else.

Well done.

Suffer for all eternity, you know it makes sense.

Next time, the musicians.

Have a nice day

The Religious

Welcome back.
Glad to see you again.
Sorry about the delay it's been Hell down here. (If you don't smile, you'll regret it later.  I mean it.  Ah, much better)

As I was saying, it's been Hell down here, and we're all overworked.  I'll really have to get more staff, but training them takes simply ages.  I've got to teach them the basics of inflicting suffering and anguish, they have absolutely no idea.  I blame the teachers.
However, back to our guided tour of my little domain.
As I've mentioned before, we try and give each of our clients a personalized experience, their environment and the methods used are tailored to suit their own prejudices, beliefs and tasks in life.

Frankly the religious aren't much of a challenge.
Their little minds are set on a fixed track, and they are not used to actually thinking for themselves.
All I've got to do is seal each one up in a small isolated beige room, with nothing to do, nothing to see and only gentle background muzak of an ethereal nature playing.
Then I just leave them for about 200 years. 
Most of them think that they're in with Her Upstairs (Yeah, right), and that they are obviously the only virtuous one to make it.  These are the ones who I really tease.  I just flash the walls of their little room into transparent mode for about a 10th of a second, so they catch the merest fleeting glimpse of the flames and shrieking damned  which surround them.  Just long enough for the merest impression to have been made.  Just long enough for the faintest of cracks to be created in their smug little personalities.  The first slight, faint doubt appears on their mental horizon.

I just leave them to it for a few tens of thousands of years.
It's lovely the way they crumple as they find that faith is an insufficient crutch.

The first screams of anguish are muzac to my ears.

Ah well, back to work. 
I'm preparing a professional development course for My second level demons, and I've got some fine-tuning to do to the boredom/anguish ratio to achieve the maximum mind-deadening effect.

See you soon.

I love scientists

Hello future customers clients, good to see you again.
Just in time to continue our guided tour of our facilities  I've always had a soft spot for scientists.  Many of the most famous ones caused the Church real problems in the past.  Galileo with his ideas of heliocentrism, Darwin and evolution, Alfred Wegener with his theory of plate tectonics and Teller with that lovely toy, the H-bomb. 

Galileo

Each of the developments produced by these guys caused varying amounts of doubt among the church-goers.  Galileo was actually an obnoxious bore, and not a very good scientist.  He actually is suspected of fudging some of his results, but his name is enshrined amongst the scientific "saints" for his refusal to back down from offering a theory which contradicted the church's beliefs.

Darwin

Darwin with his "Men from Chimps" idea has been more misunderstood than any other scientist in history.  He never said that you humans were evolved from Chimps, but the die-hard Creationists used it as an absurd statement to try and demean the theory in "regular" people's eyes.

Wegener

Wegener was much more subtle.  His theory was gradually accepted by scientists in his field over 20 -30 years.  The gradual acceptance was due to a reluctance to accept that parts of the Earth actually moved, and that all previous theories were wrong.  By the time it had been accepted, it was already in the general population as the accepted theory, the paradigm shift had occurred.  The church suddenly woke up to it too late.  Here was an idea that explained almost all of the observed facts of geology and geography, without even mentioning God.  It also stated that the Earth was not created as a perfect object, but it itself changed.  It also finalised the age of the Earth to 4.54 billion years (± 1%), which was rather a problem for those fundamentalists who still had "faith" in Bishop Ussher who said the Earth was created on 23 October 4004 BC (actually the night before).

Teller (Oops, wrong one)

Teller was responsible for more mass terror than any dictator or torturer of the Inquisition.  His invention caused millions of people, all around the world to live in fear of instant, unforeseeable destruction, with a concomitant increase in despair and a move to "live for the instant" for tomorrow we may die attitude.

The Real Edward Teller

I've got  a special room for scientists.   I don't actually get that many down here, and neither does Her upstairs.  They've got a special arrangement and go somewhere else.But the ones I do get are the Bad scientists.  Not the evil scientist of fame and legend (although I do get some of those) but the scientists who refuse to accept fresh ideas or new data.  These are the ones who treat science as SCIENCE, the religion, and have "faith" rather than an examination of the facts.

Their room is actually a duplicate of the control room of the Chernobyl reactor.  Mussorgsky's "Night on a bare mountain" is playing in the background.  Warning signs are beginning to be displayed, indicators are starting to flash, instrument readings are moving into the danger zones.  The scientists ignore them, and continue to talk amongst themselves, sipping their coffee and tea.  The warnings get louder, more strident.  They still ignore the indications of disaster.

Finally, just as they begin to accept that perhaps the data may be correct and that they have a problem, the wall splits, containment is lost, and radioactive superheated steam rushes in, stripping flesh from bones and irradiating whats left.  No one actually dies, they're already dead, remember? but continued existence under these conditions is rather unpleasant. 

Ouch

One complete cycle takes about 7 days and then I repeat it in a continuous loop.  The screams as the skin crisps and the muscles are cooked are pleasant, but not nearly as nice as the look of silent desperation which starts to appear in their eyes as each cycle re-starts.  They remember.

Be seeing you.

Professional Development

Hi again future neighbours.

I'm a bit pushed today, we've had a big influx, the biggest I can remember this century.  You can thank The Iraq war, the Afghanistan war, the floods in India and Pakistan and the onwards march of human fecundity.
Think about it.
Every year there are more and more humans on the earth, therefore more and more die each day.  And I always get My share. Simple Logic.

Anyway, the next room on the tour is one I'm really proud of.  No sign of blood, guts or brimstone.  The inhabitants have comfortable seats and plenty of coffee.  The surroundings are stimulating, with good lighting and temperature.  It's designed to keep you awake.

This is the Professional Development room.
Its for the few teachers we get down here.  As I mentioned earlier, most go to Her upstairs, as they've really been through their own Hell during their teaching lives, but as with all professions, we get a steady trickle of the incorrigible ones.
The teachers who pick favourites in class.
The teachers who preach racist and nationalistic themes.
The teachers who really love their kids.
The teachers who falsify pass rates to suit their preconceptions
The teachers who put down a kid, even if their doing their best.
The teachers who don't care anymore (if they ever did)

Believe it or not, there's not that many.
However, back to the PD room

It's full, the teachers cannot leave.
They're all drinking coffee.
Their bladders are full and getting fuller.(useful aid this, I use it a lot)
A large screen is behind a low stage.
The Educationalist walks out and begins to spout.
The inevitable PowerPoint presentation begins to flicker it's way through the badly designed and over-filled slides.

It goes on.
The drone begins to dig into the brains.
"Pedagogical research indicates"
"Multiple research conclusions show"
"This area is especially interesting"
"This graph shows"
"The text plainly states"
"The Ministry now expects at least 4 hours more"
"A new statistical analysis tool is available"
"A new assessment tool is available, and will be implemented"
"You've all been making mistakes for the last 20 years"

I don't want to go on, but they do. 
A continuous stream of Educationalists, Consultants, Educational Psychologists, Lecturers and Professors of Education, Advisers to the Ministry arrive on the platform and begin to spout.  All with their own PowerPoints.

It goes on and on.  Many contradict themselves, the listening teacher's minds are slowly turning to mush, and the first moans start to drift up.

Their bladders are getting fuller, but they cannot leave, they're literally glued to their seats, and anyway they cannot pee.  I've seen to that with some little body image modification.  They're all dead, remember? Everything is mind tricks.

The final touch. 
After the 100th speaker has finished, everyone is directed into group work.  They now have to discuss and show enthusiasm for all of the crap they've just been listening to. They get electric shocks if they don't contribute.  I really get My laughs out of this, seeing them desperately trying to think of something, anything, from all the crap they've been exposed to expound about, some logical structure from where they can develop some vestige of a useful idea.
After 50 years, I simply start the cycle again.
There is no escape.

Have a nice day now, y'hear?

Paint and Music

Hello.
Back again?

My, we are gluttons for punishment, aren't we.

Before we start our guided tour let me explain how the system down here works.
Most of our entertainments are not designed to inflict physical pain.  Don't forget that we don't get bodies down here, just the spiritual remains of the organic form, and physical pain only lasts for so long before the mind cuts off or goes insane.
Sometime I like to use a little tickle of the physical to get their attention.  You know the types of things I mean;
A little blast from a flamethrower.

Shotgun blast to the scrotum for the guys.

Needle tipped breast vice for the girls.
Just the minimum to help them focus.

The real Hell-experience uses mental and emotional techniques to maximise the suffering and pain.
And so to the Paint and Music room.

This particular room is for males only.
All of the guys are strapped into chairs. 

Nice comfortable-looking chairs of leather and chrome, that were designed by vindictive aggressive and militant Lesbians.  They are designed to exert particularly excruciating pressure onto those parts guys value most.
Every guy there is kept facing a blank newly painted wall.
In front of the wall is a small stage.
A double bass stands upright.

Music of sorts is playing, it's loud, very loud, just under the pain threshold.
It's by Schoenberg.  You can just hear the guys moaning above the music .
There's a hint of screeching chalk winding in and out of the atonal sounds.
All of the guys have full bladders, almost ready to burst, but not quite.
The walls are completely featureless, but the wall they are staring at is covered in wet paint.  The only thing they can see is the double bass and the drying paint.
This continues for a little while.  About 200 years.

 Just as they think they cannot handle it any more, a man steps out and stands behind the Double Bass.  The Schoenberg stops.  The chalk screeching stops.  The man begins to play the bass.  Badly.
The best moment, the one I really savour, is when the men realise they are actually enjoying the bad double bass playing.  It's when their screaming is so loud that no one can hear the bass, that the whole cycle starts again.
Ah.  So satisfying..

Is this the Hell for you?

You have another preference in mind?

Let Me know.

Hell is Fun

Well it is for Me.
(Little joke I normally give to the punters as they arrive.  I find a personal touch reduces those awkward tensions when we first meet.  Well it stops the screaming for a few seconds, so that's nice)

Having set up this blog (goodness, you humans make it so easy to to communicate, I must see about getting a Internet thingy set up down here) I thought it would be easy to fill up each day, you know, lists of people damned (another 128, 447), lists of people saved (22), and the don't knows (2½), but I tried that and its boring.
So I thought I could take you on a guided tour of my little place, just so you can become familiar with the layout before you come to stay permanently.

First the misconceptions.

Dante Alighieri  was right, but that was in the 14th century.  Things have kind of changed in 700 years.

A bundle of laughs

All that "circle of hell" thing was finished by the 15th century, and though we've had lots of changes, and some mistakes, we ended up with what I suppose you mortals would recognise as the "Howard Johnson" model.

I set up the environment and take care of the maintenance, house-keeping, security and the enforcers.
Everything else I franchise.
What a clever idea you humans had.  Little work for Me but a huge return.
And the efficiency went through the roof.  As did the pain, suffering and torture indices.
Because I franchised to Humans.
You humans have more inventive sadism in your little finger than all of My legions of demons.
You don't believe Me?

Well maybe I'll show you the Khmer Rouge Lounge, run by my old friend Pol Pot. 

Frankly, some of the stuff he gets up to in there makes me feel sick.  But there's genius for you.

Tomorrow, if I'm not too busy, I'll start the tour.

I think the Room of Paint and Music to start.

Be seeing you

Another Day, another 158856 Souls

A Good day today, only one soul managed to make it to Her upstairs, all the rest were mine.
We're still having those damned maintenance problems in Sector 22.  The brimstone was starting to turn solid because the induction heaters kept on going off-line.  If that river of brimstone had actually crystalized, it would have stopped the entire western section revitalization.
I had the head of maintenance gutted, impaled and scheduled to dip into the boiling sulfuric acid every half hour.  Motivation is so important in running an efficient organization.

I managed to skim some of the cream from today's intake.
I got 122 Motivational Speakers and Managers

316 Lawers, including 3 Judges

109 Boy Racers

but only 12 Educators.
I kept the Lawers and Motivators, they keep the souls down here in perpetual torment, and to be honest, those guys scare me a little.
The Boy Racers I sent back to recycle as soon as possible.

 The sooner they get back out onto the roads, the better for me.  They cause a continual stream of abuse, anger, frustration and hate.  They really help out with my target figures.
The educators I sent straight back.  I don't want their type in Hell, they lower the tone, and no matter what I do to them, they just don't recognise reality.  I kept one back though, making sure it was properly gagged.  I cannot listen to the crap they spout.  Even in Hell their are limits you know.  But they're handy for really terrifying the few teachers I get down here.  Most of the teachers who kick the bucket end up with Her upstairs, they've already had as much torture as any mortal soul can take in their earthly lives.  Some of their experiences have given me plenty of ideas to use in the eternal torment.  Those kids are really inventive, chip of the old block!

View from My window

Ah well back to work, IT'S NICE TO HAVE A LITTLE BREAK NOW AND THE..n.  Damned Caps Lock.  Must give the keyboard designers another little treat, maybe a roasted politician, I've got plenty of them to spare.

Have a nice day now, y'hear?

Who called my Name

Satan, Lord of Misrule

Tremble mortals.

I detected an impudent supposed minion of The Other using My Name without My Permission.
I am not pleased.
Saty away from matters you do not understand.
Stay away from Nuova Lazio.  It is mine already.
I shall ensure that all who interfere will have an agonising fate.
I will boil their blood.
I will gouge out their eyeballs.
I will insert red-hot pokers into every orifice.
I will tear off their skin with red-hot iron pincers.

Have a nice day.
I'll be seeing you.

The Door to Hell

Soon.