Hell Is Other People: Specifically Rod Serling and Willem Dafoe.

You probably wouldn't think that there's an internet cafe in hell, but how else would I be posting this "web log" or "blog," which I personally call my "online diary" or "oiary."

Here I am in Hell's Kitchen Internet Cafe and Tea Room, which might sound a little tired, but when this place first opened that joke was still pretty fresh.

Some of you, I can tell, are having trouble reconciling your notions of eternal damnation with departed souls sitting around with their lattes and their and their illegally downloaded pop songs and their oiaries. But let me tell you, it's not all fun and games. First off, there's no broadband. It's all dial up. Second, there's no porn. None. There's an internet that exists in your universe (a different plane, albeit) that has no porn. The best you can hope for is some fan site's user-submitted drawings of Agent Scully. Consider this the first of my revelations from beyond the grave.

Some of the more cynical members of Generation Y who may be reading this are probably wondering what giant, evil corporation could have such market dominance that it would supply hell itself with PC's.

Actually, I'm using a Macintosh. Don't ask me how the economy works, I don't even have job.

But let's move on to the subject I meant to discuss: The Punishment.

Up until guys Freud and Skinner started dropping off and this place began filling with psychologists, the torture was mostly brimstone and pitchforks, and the real punishment was an eternity of same old, same old. Once the torturers started adding psychology to proceedings, they opened up a whole new dimension in agony. The dimension was ruled by Xrglthi, the Beast of a Thousand Dooms. Then, in a hostile takeover, that dimension was absorbed into hell proper and most of its assets sold off. Xrglthi (not pronounced at all like you might think), however, holds a permanent seat on the Board of Directors. Nobody knows why since most of the dimension's problems were due to his mismanagement. For instance, only 17 or 18 of the Thousand Dooms were distinct, standalone Dooms and the rest were just variations. And of the 17 or 18, most of them only really resonated with the elderly, sort of like your mortal Shoney's.

Possibly due to the psychoanalysts, the physical horrors of the Netherworld are a little too focused on the nether regions. Psychologically, it's pretty heavy on the irony. We have Rod Serling to thank for that. You know, what if the real monsters are people? What if you are such and such hated minority? Although he came up with a good one for dealing with "martyrs." For instance, Suicide Bubba blows himself up in the name of the Confederacy or whatever, and he thinks he's going to be met by 70 virgins, and he is, but there's a reason they're all virgins. Even after eternity, most of them still are. Also, you should have a good idea what happens to Trekkies now.

Of course, the favorite punishments combine mental and physical distress. For instance, every morning at 8:30 we have an hour of Yoga. With Feng Shui until lunch. Here, however, it's not just some scam to rip off people with more money than common sense. Red can be an angry color or a fiery color, so you put your couch in one corner and you burn the place down, put it in the other and a torch-bearing mob descends on your house. It's like rearranging your furniture in a game of Jenga. It's all about balance, apparently, but mostly shit just falls over.

Did I mention that most of this happens during rush hour gridlock?

As for me, the thing they do that really gets me, is the way they've capitalized on my Willem DaFoebia. One evening I'll be out on a date, and the waiter drops off the check. I'll think there's something familiar about him but won't pay much mind until I notice the absurd cheek structure of the busboy. It's him! I look wildly around at the other customers - all of them, too! Then I turn back to my date, and it's Willem DaFoe, swooping in for a good night kiss! Sometimes this happens grocery stores, too. Can you imagine Willem's face on Aunt Jemima's body?

Also, Wednesday is Ladies' Night. I had no idea what this meant. Did ladies get in free or get free torture? Or cheap call drinks all nite? So thinking along those lines, I was mighty chagrined when my penis fell off. Fortunately, it's only one night a week.

You've probably noticed that I've been throwing around some pretty big names, but I have mentioned the really big guys, Satan, Lucifer, Moloch, Beelzebub et al. Thing is, those guys aren't too involved any more. Sure, they keep their finger in (or corresponding body part), but most of the action has been farmed out to celebrity torturers, who while Sinatra and John Wayne impress the rubes, they're really just cheap labor. Back in the day, for a guy like Beelzebub, hell was like Las Vegas, but now it's become a Disney-style, family-themed Las Vegas, which for Beelz, is hell.

I could go a little deeper into the history and politics of hell, but it's one hell of a long story.

You know, there's a special place here for people who make those jokes.

So before I sign off, why don't I tell you about where I live? I live in Winnipeg, which is the capitol of hell. Honestly, I've never been to Canada so I don't know how it compares. There are a few named districts like the Fan (where the houses are on the blades of a giant fan either being blown into the air or sucked down), or Southside (which non-residents nicknamed Taintville, for its precarious location), but mainly we just refer to Uptown and Downtown.

I live in Downtown, the low rent end with the rest of the minor leaguers, the second-degree murderers, the postal fraudsters, the dog-botherers, the burned out rock stars, plus some minor demons and the skankier succubi. And so on. Obviously, the rent's cheaper here, and actually, fairly affordable, though must of the residents throw their money away on drugs, cable tv, burn-ointment, therapy, the Washington Times, the above-mentioned succubi, or food. Even if you can pay your rent, the landmonster won't do anything about the numerous building-code violations, the cockroaches, or the back up plumbing. Of course, the cockroaches aren't so bad, as long as you don't try to spray them, they usually just curl up on the end of your bed and sleep. One of mine, Larvy (he was a larva when I got him), even brings my slippers in the mornings. As for plumbing, there's never any hot water unless it's molten rock or boiling pig's blood, and even then, as soon as you step into the shower, the phone rings and it's a telemarketer.

Now, if you just look up the hill past MC Hammer's house, you'll see Uptown It's where all the swanky demons and celebrity murderers hang out. Celebrity murderers meaning either the one's who lead police on a televised tri-state killing spree, or celebrities who are murderers. Astaroth's Deli has already reserved a parking space for OJ.

Oh come on, you think they're going to buy that "If the glove don't fit," bullshit down here?

Well, that's all for now, I have to install some new insecurity patches that just finished downloading. Anyway, I hope I have something more interesting to talk about next time. So until then, be good. Seriously. I don't want you fuckers coming down here and cramping my style.

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