The Devil You Say

A short story

The Devil You Say

The clubhouse was rapidly filling, and perhaps becoming noisy. For the old greybeard at a corner table it was simply part of the great continuum.

He existed in a secure bubble, fairly impervious to the vagaries of his rowdy surroundings. He kept glancing at the door as he sipped slowly on his tall glass of ambrosia.

Suddenly the activity stopped as his voice boomed through the  universe; "Gabriel, Michael! Here, now!" The two angels were already on their way to his table, and simply continued their journey without concern.

As they sat a waiter, with eight arms, placed a bubbling black storm in a shot glass before the greybeard, along with another ambrosia, it just served the other pair with the latter.

They sat and watched as the old one threw back the stormy shot, then sipped his cooling chaser. 

Then Gabriel said, "we were on our way, why the impatience?"

"I have a problem. I need your help", he said stiffly. "But where have you pair been?"

Gabriel looked at his associate then took the lead, "Out on the links God, not here but an even better course."

"What are you taking about? I created golf as a punishing pastime for stupid mortals and you have become besotted with it. Even after I created the clubhouse for the likes of us you have still been drawn to this punishment?"

"You said you have a problem Lord, what is it we might help with?" Michael asked, hoping to divert the boss. 

The greybeard indicated back over his shoulder with his thumb. 

The pair needed to look past, around or through the freaks at the bar. Multi limbed, headed or simply slimy blocks, they all blocked an easy view of the target.

It didn't matter, in fact, because the target known to them, since the beginning of time. They had watched as the former angelic visage of this one time Special Prosecutor For God; indeed officially he still was. 

But everyone knew the ravages of idleness, abundant ambrosia and unrestrained anger at the old man had devastating consequences.

The svelte charm of the angel had turned dark and musty. The white robes had faded to near black and eruptions on his skin from an excess of ambrosia, and too little manna, gave off effects like the horn looking lumps on his brow. 

"He just sits their sucking ambrosia, day and night. The bar staff are constantly complaining about it. I need to do something about it or I'll have no peace for eternity."

"Satan?" Gabriel asked. "He's been there since the last task you set for him. You were happy about him then, maybe you should just give him another task. That was a few millennia ago after all."

"Satan? I mean Ha Shaitan," the old guy looked at them quizzically.

"That is what people have called him for ages Lord. Satan, the old Hebrew name isn't very popular now but for that one old job, no pun intended, his reputation has been working overtime for you."

"Whatever," the old one blasted, "What are we going to do about him now?"

The two archangels sipped quietly on their ambrosia as long as they dared, then Gabriel said; "Lord, there is a descendent of old Job who is causing us a bit of bother. Declares, even shows his devotion to you. 

"But all along he's just a bleeding heart lawyer who is screwing up many of our, errr your, better plans to have fun with mortals."

"Job? Haven't thought about him for eons. Is this fellow as devout as the forebear?"

"God Almighty, if anything he is worse." Michael winced. "As hard as we try to sow despair among your god fearing Christians Job busily works at undoing our efforts, all in the name of God it seems.

"Of course, he can't possibly stop everything we do, and he does constantly go on about Satan, which helps us a little."

"Soooo," God mused to himself, then out loud, well no universe loud!

 "Do you think this Job can hold out like the last one? Might be a bit more fun for us all, sent Satan as you call him, down for another run. 

" I'm sure he is still capable of ruining, destroying anything he comes in contact with. Perhaps your lawyerly friend might be partial to a little personal destruction; or better perhaps he won't be." It was here the universe had a good dose of God, or at least his manic laugh.

The three sat and talked for a bit, not so much hatching a plan as simply putting the pieces in place. 

"So take him off now, get this thing started. You know well just how quickly an infinity can pass."

As they sauntered off to collect Satan each was rueing how long an infinity really is. They felt an hour with God was like six infinities rolled into one. At least they knew how to handle Satan, it was a topic they had planned and discussed often.

The effects of the Ambrosia were short lived, took an age to develop and a day or two to wear off. They'd both been through the routine in their various efforts to emulate the fellow angel for the sake of humans.

The wretched gown was another thing. Science had not yet discovered a material which might just withstand contact with the sulphurous, indestructible fabric.  Nothing would destroy it of course, that would be impossible. But after they badly fitted Satan with a cheap suit, sort of lawyer suit, one of them would carefully transport the terrible outfit to a volcano which was threatening to erupt. It wouldn't destroy the robe, but no one would find it for several eons.

It didn't take infinities, just several Earth days to have Satin, ensconced at a bar stool where Job's lawyer friends liked to relax. 

They thought it might take a while for their god fearing target to appear, but to their amazement he showed up within minutes.

To their further amazement he walked straight over to Satan. 

"There you are," the effervescent character greeted. "Where have you been? I've been waiting forever for you to get out of his clutches."

From the bewildered and bemused look on Satan's face the Archangels knew this wasn't about to go as they planned. 

They could hear Job offering Satan a way out and they could hear that devil wanting out but finding excuses. He surely wouldn't. But Ha Shaitan didn't last long in the hands of a trained evangelist. They winced as the final block fell:

"Of course you aren't an Ambosiaholic Satan, can't possibly be. You don't have the genetic disposition. In fact you don't have genes.

"Look, I'm not asking you to be a double agent, make a clean break. I want to pay the old bastard back too, and I need more help defending against human rights abuses. You'd be great at it..."

We can't tell how long it was before our fearless archangels sat before God Almighty again; minutes, days, years, eons or infinities were all a blur.

"So report!" He demanded.

"the good news or the bad news?" Michael asked.

Just tell me about Ha Shaitan and that Job."

"Oh that, Gabriel passed off airily, he's out of your hair now, sort of." Michael winced at the sort of and added;

"Well that's the bad news. He's an associate with Job Legal. Joined the other side you might say."

"I thought Job was devoted to me!" God roared.

"Ummm perhaps we misunderstood the nature of the devotion Lord. You know how you keep making enemies."

God Almighty stared at them with fury in his eyes, then said;

"You will go straight back, fetch Satan out of there and kill Job!"

"No can do,"  Michael said, without any hint of apology. I'm going right back, but I have a room full of gorgeous women to visit."

God simply glared the question at Gabriel.

"I'm on the pro golf circuit now God, too busy to worry about that stuff. But you are fine here. You never go anywhere or do anything, and no one really cares much for you anyway. Just enjoy existence." He could not keep a nervous giggle from bubbling out.

"GOLF" roared God, you know I hate that game.

As they started to leave a slightly petulant Michael turned back;

"You see God, we have found out a resurrected golf champion is far more loved than a resurrected god. Lots more gorgeous women too. Seeya!"

Falling Between two Stools

I have just posted a set of articles on MagusInk, celebrating the creative genius born out of the Dust Bowl phenomenon in the USA during the 1930s - The Muse does some hardtravelin This set of stories looks at the contributions of writer John Steinbeck, photographer Dorothea Lange, and ‘The Dust Bowl troubadour’ Woody Guthrie.

Two aspects really struck me out of my research, first was the difference a little dignity can make to the degradations of poverty. It is bad enough to be cold, hungry and homeless, but adding social pariah status and blaming the victim  makes breaking the cycle nearly impossible. The voices and images of this trio at least gave a human face to these victims.

The other revelation, to me at least, is that I’m not the only one to constantly fall between two stools, and into an odious pile of shit. Perhaps the only thing I have in common with Guthrie and Steinbeck, and it did help to relate better to them. Both had a strong social conscience, and  neither was comfortable with aligning that with any particular fixed and organised group thinking.

Steinbeck in particular was reviled by the political right and left in the USA. On the other hand he attacked capital and labour organisations with equal intensity. If  he, or Guthrie dallied with socialism and communism at times but was clearly incapable of becoming embedded with organisations. 

Both he and Guthrie were really only at home with their subjects, the dispossessed and the grafters and showed little interest in ideologies and dogmas. Having to compromise or stay quiet for the sake of being part of a group was simply not in their DNA. Not that that stopped the right from labelling and attacking, especially during the McCarthy Era. However both seemed to take those attacks in stride and often somewhat humorously.  

I guess the real point is that they could have made their lives a good deal easier in some respects, no doubt at the cost of being able to live comfortably with their deep passions. Sometimes the trade off is not worth it and thankfully that pair were never really tempted by it. Instead, along with Lange, they have left a valuable and instructive legacy.

Back on the publishing trail

Here we go again, back into publishing. Several books currently being prepped, but in the meantime the concept spurred me on to develop a web base for the enterprise.

 MagusInk is now live, and will feature an eclectic mix. My co-developer, Brian (Petrolhead) is an avid devotee of wicked pop music and motorsports. While I shrink from both those passions I expect I am, as aways, a minority.
My contribution, prior to sharing some new publishing treats, will be focused on books and my sort of music. To begin with I feature 'Writers Redux', a look back at great writers who might have fallen off the` radar. The first is Gore Vidal and Lincoln.

Rather than wicked pop music I've selected a great, albeit little known, Victorian band; Grumpy Neighbour. I have recently had to pleasure of meeting them again and remain impressed. Though for regional shows we generally only get the cut-down version, the lazy Dawg. Still a great sound and experience.

All good fun, and I hope worthwhile in the end. Please come visit the site and let me know what you think.

Questioning the dominant paradigm

Where is that thin line between considered and gratuitous commentary? Is it appropriate to question the veracity of Islamic, Jewish or Christian belief?

Recent violent protest in Sydney, while lamentable, occur more often than we like to recognise.
In recent times we have seen confrontations between unions and authorities in Melbourne and earlier in the year the 'occupy' confrontations in both cities.
At the same time we have seen a range of violent protests in refugee detention centres throughout the country.
The reality is that Australia is part of a wider global community, we are subject to the same troubles and responses as the rest of the world.

To that Question
When is it wrong, despite research support and reasoned argument,
to actually present a potentially contentious position?
For some time now I have been researching what has evolved as the reality of religion per se.
It didn't begin that way, it began as an effort to focus on the positive message of our historically sandaled sages; Jesus et al.
My background and a degree of previous training was within the Judeo/Christian sphere, so it was reasonable that my focus should begin there.
The methodology has been somewhat broader than that if my previous church based training.
Certainly the Bible was a central reference point, but as an overview rather than the church preferred study of 'biblical bubbles' in isolation of the broader context.
Now clearly, as a former Christian, that training had not sufficiently captured me. Yet emotional ties to other peoples beliefs, or my own reticence, had captured me.

The Hard Part

"While I can recognise that religion has a broader role, often defining cultural and individual identities, it is in the end an empty vessel."

I placed that statement in quotes because it represents a fair summary of where my research has brought me.
I broadcast it realising that it will appear offensive to many, but with the equal understanding that I take offense at the strictures put on society by many religious adherents.
Is my expression valid or gratuitous? Just because I know it will upset some should that stop me from making it known?

As it is, I believe I have accrued sufficient evidence to claim the 'emperor has no clothes'. The vessel is empty, but do I have the right to actually say it?
I think I should have and do have, but suspect that I might just be out-numbered in that belief.

Take your partners for the next dance

The political dance has long held a fascination for me. I can’t really jig, but then I am fairly inept at real politics. I guess the problem is that I take it too seriously, expect better performances than seem to be humanly possible.

We don’t have a federal election due in Australia soon, but we have a ballroom full of willing competitors. The USA are having their preliminarily heats providing dance floor spills and thrills aplenty. Both offer a sad, disenchanting view of political life and aspirants.

Prime Minister Gillard should be sitting on top of the glittering ball, being generally successful at delivering worthy performances in most sections of the comp. Her biggest skill though seems to be the one that will see her limp off the floor, missing one shoe perhaps. Our Julia at deflecting the failings of opposition leader Abbott back onto herself.

Time and again Abbott should be hoist on his own petard, and the chivalrous Julia steps in to take the blow. It is breathtaking to watch the incredible transformation, the shift of focus, a foot gently removed from Abbott's mouth and planted solidly in her own. I wouldn’t really mind, except for a morbid fear of an Abbott lead government in this country.

Circular Firing Squad
A shift of focus to the USA GOP primaries race could probably rate as a displacement activity, although it should concern Aussies who is in the White House. We do tend to become tangled in US policy, at all its extremes.

This race has been characterised as a ‘circular firing squad’. Front runners Romney and Gingrich have inflicted such serious electoral damage on each other there is talk at this late stage of introducing a new, electable candidate. What has been fascinating, like Abbott these aspirants are adept at shooting themselves in the foot, without suffering any harm.

A long held dream has been to see a credible, capable set of opponents, showing the positive skills which might thrill us with the spectre of the political tango. They need not be boring. They need not ape each other’s steps and routines. Diversity provides powerful benefits in any field of endeavour. My dream is for solid performances, the sort which serve to grow the confidence of nations, not constantly drain it away.

Experiencing a wilderness

WOW!!! A keyboard under the fingertips again. Eons in the wilderness, with only an antediluvian cell phone at hand blogging gave way to contemplation and the odd tweet. That plus reams of hand written notes for an ongoing wilderness inspired project.

Limitations on commenting are possibly just as well, given the strange behaviour of supposedly progressive politicians; so strange the conservative side are in danger of self-harm. As WSJ recently noted, the Congressional GOP appeared to be forming a circular firing squad trying to find their new place in the political landscape.

 In Australian the conservative opposition are so intent on opposing they have become typecast as ‘The NO Team’, giving the minority government more than a little hope of survival. Like elsewhere the parties are in disarray.

My old ‘Aunt Sally’, Silvio Berluscone is gone – hoist on his own petard. The Middle East despotic regimes are imploding one by one, without outside assistance. There is still injustice aplenty, still regrettable laws, often backed by ‘progressive’ leaders. All of this happened without the benefit of my input. Amazing!

Good old economics is behind a lot of this fascinating political/social behaviour. Certainly in conventional terms Obama would be toast with the current US economic dynamic, but his opponents are intent on showing they would be far more destructive. Economic ructions might  have changed expectations.

The increased spread of social media is informing unrest around the world, spreading quickly to those who might never known they had alternatives. More power to them. To be sure, those unused to being challenged react harshly. But their very actions, the violence and bloodshed, are fuelling the resolve of emerging revolutionaries.

It would be remiss not to mention the Occupy Movement, though apart from the catchy 99% there seems to be a lack of handles to grab. I think I understand the reasoning behind the movement, or at least the desire to find their voice. Unfortunately poor articulation of the economic arguments underlying the movement, the lack of cohesive target demands, has so far negated their real potential.

Still, it is wonderful that all this goes on, for better or worse in my absence. Even better to know that my humble opinion is neither needed or missed. That revelation probably won’t change my readiness to comment. I blog, therefore I am? The truth, as I found, is that I am even in the silent wilderness.

Bigger profits make everyone happy? Pigs might fly

Australia’s Fairfax Media have been running a story over the weekend - Capitalism is ruining the planet, and pigs might fly – by Chris Berg is a research fellow with the Institute of Public Affairs and editor of the IPA Review.

I suspect Mr Berg might take issue with the hype created by headline, subhead and outtakes, but his own argument reeks of poorly target information to prove a dubious case. The Sunday Age ran the subhead – Less waste means bigger profits, and that should make everybody happy. Either Mr Berg or the sub-editor live in cuckoo land if they believe that.

The argument is predicated on a research pig, Pig 05049, and seeks to prove that because all of the parts of this butchered pig were utilized in various ways. The suggestion is that tracking the afterlife of one single pig can be extrapolated across the corporate world. That would suggest that industrial waste is no longer an issue, indeed does not exist at all. We all know the truth of that, business will only expend resources to the degree that they will get a maximum return.

As to the joys of profit motive, surely that exists for those who directly benefit. With the announcement of increased taxes on our mining companies we are now hearing more of this lame justification, an incredible range of claims supporting the widely discredited ‘trickle down’ theory. The mining companies are claiming responsibility for Australia’s economic strength, despite the fact that the mineral wealth rightly belongs to the country as a whole. As to any altruistic motive, the new provision was announced on Sunday and mining shares took a dive on Monday.

I would suggest that it is not bigger profits that gain wide approval, rather it is a more equitable distribution of available wealth. I’m not being ‘bolshie’ here, not claiming business should not make profits, but equally they should not make extravagant, unsupportable claims, even if they do really believe them. I am sure Mr Berg did not achieve his exalted position through ignorance, sure that he knows the difference between a credible and a fallacious argument. I would hope so anyway. This article is shallow and misleading, and I hope it’s author feels at least a little guilt.