Avoiding the Devil in your Daily Life

By Johnny Apocalypse

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that with a title like this, I am about to serve you the tallest pile of preachy bullshit in the known universe. For some reason, you have decided to read the piece anyway, so now would be a good time to say that this isn't some insanely religious article.

In fact, the only statement remotely close to preaching here is the phrase "temptation is all around you", but that's only included because it's true. Temptation is everywhere, but not in the forms you may think. I'm not here to convince you to find Jesus/Buddha/Allah/L. Ron Hubbard, nor do I wish to move anyone away from a spiritual leader. Instead, I have come today with several handy tips on how to keep your soul clean for the afterlife without being drawn towards or detracted from any one religion. This here is non-denominational spiritual help.

Still reading? Good.

Just like I know what you were thinking earlier, I know what you're thinking now. "Great," you say, "this schmuck is going to tell me that I'm a sinner and the main problem is that I screw everything in sight". Once again, you're wrong. This helpful guide won't tinker with your sex life one bit. Pre-marital sex, sodomy and masturbation are matters for you to decide on. In fact, since idle hands are the devil's plaything, you should probably masturbate more often. But I digress.

No, this guide simply lists a few things that I have discovered to be tools of the devil. By avoiding these things, you stand a far better chance of avoiding demonic possession and getting your ass into a more upbeat afterlife.

My sources have confirmed what I have suspected for a long time; Celery is the devil's vegetable. Sure, it looks harmless and it comes straight out of the ground, but in reality it is forged in the fires of hell, created from a mixture of goblin semen and worn out gym socks.

I first came upon my suspicion of celery when I was in basic training for the Army. I decided to start eating a salad every day to facilitate the weight loss process. At first this worked wonderfully with a bit of lemon juice, salt and pepper I found that salad could actually be enjoyable. Then the cooks started sneaking small bits of celery into the mix and I nearly puked the first time I bit into that shit. I have always hated celery, but now it hit me. This must have been created by Satan. The taste is horrible and the texture is even worse. Everyone says to put peanut butter so it will be a more delectable treat, but this doesn't even begin to cover the nastiness hidden inside. Avoid celery at all costs.

I know for a fact that in his free time Lucifer solves quadratic equations while munching on a stalk of celery. This practice, while useful, will lead to nothing but the downfall of man. Take a look at the Book of Revelations. It's full of numbers. Seven seals will be broken, and we'll get seven trumpets from the sky announcing the rapture and the arrival of the four horsemen. A beast will rise from the sea with seven heads, another beast will rise from the Earth with two horns and the number 666 tattooed on it's head. 666 isn't the only number of the beast, every number is the number of the beast. If we don't count the seals as we break them, we won't know we've hit the fatal number seven and the Apocalypse won't come.

After learning that math would lead me straight to hell I quit doing anything remotely connected to the practice. I even quit balancing my check book. It's simple really, I just say to myself "I have five hundred bucks in the bank and since I haven't spent five hundred dollars, I'm good". We can all live perfectly fine without adding, subtracting or busting out calculus.

Some time ago, Beelzebub (under the pseudonym Amy Heckerling) directed the worst movie ever made, telling the story of a bunch of idiot teenagers complaining about life. To make matters worse, all the women were "valley girls", the most evil species on the planet. The first and only time I watched this movie I almost tore my eyes out with a corkscrew.

Every time I start griping about this movie, someone inevitably says "You're supposed to watch the movie just so you can stare at Alicia Silverstone and the other hot chicks". Sadly, this movie is so inherently awful that I can't just gawk at the women and ignore the rest of the movie. The dialogue starts creeping into my ears and decaying my mind, so I turn the sound off. Problem solved, right? Wrong, because then I can literally feel the stupidity radiating out of my television. For that matter, anyone who puts Alicia Silverstone in a movie must be in league with the Prince of Darkness. Fuck this movie and everyone who had anything to do with the production of it. There are less painful ways to go to hell then watching this.

Sting and the Police
Every time I'm cruising in my car and a radio station is playing a great line-up of classic songs, they inevitably throw The Police in there just to ruin my day. Led Zeppelin, Gordon Lightfoot, and then BAM! I get hit in the face with Roxanne. The second this starts pounding over the airwaves, I start vomiting pea soup everywhere. The last time I heard Murder by Numbers I was possessed by the ghost of Kaiser Von Wilhelm and went on a killing spree with a chain gun.

Years ago, a bunch of angry nutcases went ballistic when it was discovered that serial killer Richard Ramirez (a.k.a. The Night Stalker) owned an AC/DC hat. Everyone immediately assumed that AC/DC were to blame for the murders, that their name stood for "Anti-Christ/Devil's Children" and any other bullshit they could toss in the mix. The hidden truth is that Ramirez had gone to a concert by The Police, and after hearing Message in a Bottle he realized that he had to kill as many people as he could.

Listening to The Police is a surefire way to pollute your soul. Burn your copy of Synchronicity before it's too late.

While I am fully aware that everyone makes fun of this state, I have been to Nebraska more then enough to fully realize the potential evil lying in wait. Whenever this state is mentioned, the first thing that usually pops into people's minds is "corn", which is pretty accurate. But that only comprises fifty percent of the state. If you've actually been there, you know there resides an unholy number of cows as well.

Well, what's so evil about this? Corn is the finest vegetable discovered to date and cows make for damn good eating. But next time you have the misfortune of visiting Nebraska, keep your eyes open and you'll eventually see a city off in the distance. There are actually a few cities here and there, populated by people and not by cows. Stop by the city, drive around a little and grab a bite to eat. You'll soon find out why Nebraska is the sole property of Satan.

The cities are even more boring then the corn fields.

That's right. You think driving for hours on end surrounded by farm country is tedious, stop by Lincoln, Omaha or Ogalailla. Sit back for a little bit and take the city in. You'll soon discover that corn is the life of the party.

Charles Dickens' Great Expectations
That's right, one of the "greatest" pieces of literature ever written was forged by Mephistopheles' pitchfork. The story centers on Pip, a little bastard who had the audacity to help a criminal and suddenly finds himself sent off to a private boarding school where he befriends a violent dick, falls in love with the snootiest girl ever born and is traumatized by a teacher named Havisham.

You should already have every reason in the world to avoid this book. First, there is someone named Pip. If I ever met someone named Pip, I would need several years of therapy to stop the voices compelling me to kill this unfortunate individual. Second, there's someone named Havisham. That's not a name, it's a disease. Lastly, he falls for a snooty girl. What's more, after she initially gives him the cold shoulder, he keeps stalking her. This bitch thinks she's too good for someone named Pip and the kid's too stupid to realize he should cut his losses and go to Match.com.

Perhaps you're not convinced that this book came from the fiery gorges of the sixth layer of hell. You might even be thinking of naming your first born child "Pip Havisham Smith" just to spite me. I offer you a final reason to avoid reading this waste-of-rainforest; this is the dullest book ever written. And while I'll agree that dullness is in the mind of the beholder, I can actually prove it this time around.

I first encountered Great Expectations in a high school literature class. To demonstrate that we had actually done the reading, we answered questions about the night's assignment. The book is broken into parts one, two and three, and I only read parts one and three. I had to take a break from the book to read some Dashiell Hammett and save myself from becoming a zombie. So's not to earn an instant failing grade, I simply skimmed the book until I found the answers needed for the assignment.

Then came the test over the book. We finished the disaster on Friday and the test was on Monday. I knew I should actually read part two so I wouldn't fail the test, but instead I opted to watch The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and practice my guitar.

Monday eventually came, and I still wasn't ready for Mr. Test. I figured "fuck it, I'll just study extra hard for the next test to make up for the oncoming failure." When the test was passed out, I found it was multiple choice and that the teacher had thoughtfully broken it into parts one, two and three. I took parts one and three first, and saved the dreaded part two for last.

A few days later we got the test back. Amazingly, I did the best on part two and earned myself an overall grade of B. My secret? When I came to a question I had no clue about, I chose the most boring answer. Take this example question I just pulled out of my ass:

When Ms. Havisham was tearing Pip a new asshole for having such a foolish name, he did the following:

A) Grabbed his machete and started hacking everything in sight.
B) Entered into a long philosophical discussion about the nature of justice with Havisham.
C) Sat quietly and stared at Havisham's breasts.
D) Sat quietly.

The answer would of course be "D". You want to read classical literature, stick with Shakespeare and Dostoevsky.

Aside from peppermint tea, which is great when you have a cold, all other tea is disgusting. Hot or cold, sweet or sour, it's all brewed from Lucifer's urine. I also suspect there's an essence of dog hair in Oolong tea, and I'm pretty sure he tossed some feces into the mix when he created that Earl Grey crap. Coffee, on the other hand, was brewed from dehydrated ambrosia. Drink some French roast instead.

So there you have it: the proper guide to avoiding Satan's pitfalls, cleverly disguised and placed within your grasp. Evade the fated items herein and I promise you a comfortable afterlife. But should you look longingly at a stalk of celery ever again, you're bound to end up on the receiving end of the devil's phallus. You've been warned.

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