E-Mails from the Underworld: I Am Not Who I Am Not

By Rev. Thomas F. O'Donnell Esq.

Im mad as Hell, and Im not going to take it any more.

So begins Satans autobiography, E-MAILS FROM THE UNDERWORLD: I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT. So long as God remained Out There,a transcendent, superhero who occasionally intervened in human affairs based on no apparent rhyme or reason, Satan was comfortable with the arrangement. God -- Out There. Satan in here. That's the way it was supposed to be. But with the publication of I AM WHO I AM: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF GOD, it's a whole new game. In his mind, Satan, a metaphorical symbol for all the inner demons that keep humankind imprisoned within, has no choice but to come out with his own story. God has laid down the gauntlet; now it is time to respond, he proclaims. Let the best (or worst) deity win.

And Satan is a cocky cuss. When it comes to laying claim to an inner presence within, his confidence runneth over. As he himself puts it, Im your inner demons. Im Anger, Envy, Lust, Pride. Im Greed, Impatience, Sloth. Im Judgmentalism, Im Bigotry, Im Stereotyping, Im all the sneaky little -isms and -igotries that allow you humanoids to think youre better than somebody else. You all know Im deep down inside every one of you.

The story of Satan is a story of erupting from within. But Satan isnt just going to tell his lifes story, hes going to show it to you. E-mail by e-mail. From tweaking the Beatitudes to the Bad Dude's Baditudes," to offering a new set of Ten Commandments to Hell, Satan takes you on a roller-coaster ride of your own inner demons. By books end, a conscientious reader will have picked up more than enough tricks of the trade to insure a speedy and successful trip to metaphorical Hell (not to mention, of course, the ways to avoid it).

(E-MAILS FROM THE UNDERWORLD: I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT is the second of a three part series of autobiographies of God, Satan, and Jesus, respectively. Be sure to complete your own collection of the trilogy with copies of I AM WHO I AM: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF GOD, and I AM THE WORD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JESUS.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 4, 2006
• ISBN: 9781462833054

Rev. Thomas F. O'Donnell Esq.

Reverend Thomas F. O’Donnell, Esq., is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ serving as pastor of Plymouth Bethesda Church in Utica, New York. He is the author of numerous other works, including his most recent works of fiction, The Damnation of Tucker Tolliver and The J, E, D & P Murders.

Book preview

Part I

"Oh, What a Tangled Web We Weave,

When First We Practice to Deceive"

—Sir Walter Scott, The Heart of Midlothian

1

To:   [e-mail]

From:   [e-mail]

Re:   A Word of Explanation

Hi, Maggothead, something important has come up. We have an opportunity to change the world. You and me. Well, not you, but me. And all we have to do is change the way we communicate with one another. Actually, we don’t even have to do that. I’m going to continue to exert control over you in what you call your subconscious, just like always. You just continue to be the same pathetic humanoid that you have always been. The only difference is that I am going to record our relationship through e-mails to allow the rest of your pathetic humanoids to observe how we work together. In this way, as they get to see me work and know me better, they’ll get to know themselves better, too. Win-win. It’ll be fun.

Why, you ask?

Fair enough. It’s all because of him. The Big Guy in the Sky. He’s written a book that he calls an "autobiography." I AM WHO I AM: An Autobiography of God. He leaves me with no choice. I must respond in kind. So I’m going to write my own autobiography and call it, E-MAILS FROM THE UNDERWORLD: I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT. Get it, Maggothead, the underworld, right here in the pit of your pituitary. Instead of a dull, boring, self-serving story about who I am not, I’ve decided to show the reader precisely who I am not. I’m going to show them how I work, how I keep them all out of the clutches of Our Adversary.

I love my job.

And the good news for you is this. I’ve decided to make you my lucky co-conspirator. I shall be exposing your life to all the world so that they can look into the inner workings of their own pathetic existence through the lens of Satan. It’ll be fun.

You are welcome.

Enough for now. Talk to you later.

I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT

P.S. Just checking to see if you are reading the P.S.’s

2

To:   [e-mail]

From:   [e-mail]

Re:   None of Your Business, But . . . .

For the gazillionth time, Maggothead, I’ve told you never, ever to question me. This time, you question me, not once, but twice. Why am I doing this? And why have I chosen you?

I’m in a good mood, though, I’m excited about our new collaboration, so I’ll answer you this time. But don’t think this is a precedent for the future. The rule is still the same: Never, ever question the Big B.

Let’s take the second question first. You make a good point when you say you are not worthy of such an important assignment. Of course, you are not worthy. But that’s the point. And that’s why you are to do nothing, except be yourself. I’ll do all the talking, as usual. Furthermore, you do have a bunch of pathetic relatives, friends, and co-workers who lend themselves to interesting conversations between you and me—how we can best keep them out of the clutches of The Big G. So in that sense, the more unworthy you are, the more worthy you are. Don’t you just love it, Maggs?

Enough about you. Back to me. As to the first question, I already told you why I am doing this. Look it up.

I am attaching to this e-mail a copy of the relevant portion of the original Agreement between The Big G and the Big B. As you can see, it is all properly signed, sealed, and notarized. Yes, Our Lowliest Father signed for both parties, affixed the official seal, and served as notary, but this was all within the authorization set forth in paragraph (23)(B)(2).

One more thing. I know this may be a bit confusing, but you’ll get used to it. At the time of the original Agreement, Our Lowliest Father, a/k/a Satan, a/k/a Beelzebub, a/k/a The Prince of Darkness, went by the name The Big B. There was The Big G (a/k/a God) and The Big B, and all was good. But over time, your God had to split into three—you humanoids call it the Trinity—and so Our Lowliest Father did the same. He took on the title "Our Lowliest Father and created agents in the field with the titles B or The Big B, depending how worthy (or, should I say, unworthy?) they proved to be. I, of course, have earned the title, The Big B." In any event, this is all part of our proud history. Don’t worry, you’ll catch on. It’ll begin to make sense to you, at least as much sense as the Trinity has ever made. LOL.

Enjoy,

I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT

Click here to download attachment A, Agreement

3

ATTACHMENT A: AN EVERLASTING AGREEMENT BETWEEN THE BIG G AND THE BIG B:

WHEREAS, the party of the first part, hereafter to be known as The Big G (a/k/a God), and the party of the second part, hereafter to be known as The Big B (a/k/a Beelzebub) desire to reduce to writing an understanding between said parties as to their rights and claims to a third party group of persons hereafter to be known as humankind (a/k/a humanoids, a/k/a The Many); and,

WHEREAS, at one time before the beginning of time The Big G decided to create humankind, thereby separating himself into The Many and inadvertently giving rise to The Big B; and,

WHEREAS, The Big G and The Big B shall hereafter limit their territorial influence over The Many as set forth below; and,

WHEREAS, The Big G hereby grants Power of Attorney to The Big B to sign this Agreement on behalf of both parties, so that such signature shall be binding upon The Big G with full force and effect as if The Big G had himself executed the document,

NOW, THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED:

Paragraph 23:

(b.)   

(2.)   The territorial jurisdiction of the parties hereunder shall be limited as provided hereunder. All disputes between the parties under this sub-paragraph shall be resolved unilaterally by The Big B.

(a.)    The Big G’s jurisdiction over humankind/The Many shall be limited to a transcendent Out There influence as is commonly understood by such terms as The Creator, The Father, and the like.

(b.)    The Big B’s jurisdiction over humanoids/The Many shall be limited to an immanent presence within the inner self of said humanoids as is commonly understood by such terms as inner demons, or immoral nature, or natural propensity toward sin.

(c.)    Neither the Big G nor the Big B shall engage in any efforts to trespass to the other party’s jurisdiction. Anything contrary to the spirit of this subparagraph (b) of this paragraph (2) of this section (23) shall be instantly actionable without due process of law.

Signed, sealed, and delivered instantaneously with the beginning of time,

The Big G, by The Big B,

Duly witnessed and notarized instantaneously with the beginning of time,

The Big B

I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT

4

To:   [e-mail]

From:   [e-mail]

Re:   To Be-lieve or Not To Be-lieve

NO, Maggothead, I’m not pleased! Client 98-666-DHRB’s New Year’s Resolution to, as you so aptly put it, come out of the spiritual closet and begin wearing his atheism on his shirt sleeve would not "warm a single cockle of my heart" if I had one, thank you. Any decision by any hapless humanoid to start wearing the atheist insignia on his chest, never mind his shirt sleeve, is terrible news! Terrible!

Haven’t you been paying attention to anything I’ve been saying for the past few months? And what about Boot Camp? Didn’t Sgt. Scotchcrotch and his band of headless henchmen teach you anything? I suppose not—if they weren’t such laughable lardheads themselves, they wouldn’t be wasting their time with Boot Camp in the first place, would they? It’s OJT out here in the pits with me—that’s the only place where you ever learn anything.

You’re welcome.

OK, so here goes. For the umpteenth million time, Mushbrains, there is a fine line between I believe in Our Adversary and I do not believe in Our Adversary. Too fine a line for us to toe. Just to utter the denial means the Client is thinking about The Big G and that’s trouble. That’s all Our Adversary needs. Today’s denial is tomorrow’s affirmation. It’s so obvious.

You idiot! Do me a favor. Hold your hand up in front of your face and bring it slowly toward you. Can you see it? Probably not, ’cause I forgot to tell you to OPEN YOUR EYES. I wish I had a nickel for every angel flitting around up there in that stupid garden who spent most of their lives on our Sure Thing list—in abject, pristine denial—only to slip away at the last second through some devious little scheme of our snot-nosed Omniscient Opponent. You know that saying you humanoids have, Give him an inch, and he’ll take a mile? Well, in the case of The Big G, it’s more a temporal thing than a spatial one. Give ’em a second, and he’ll take an eternity. And the conscious denial of the so-called Atheist is that precious little second The Big G is looking for.

But don’t despair. Fortunately, we’re not without our arsenal of weapons to counter-attack. Everything’s stacked in our favor—human motivation, desires, Our Adversary’s blind insistence on sitting back and letting so-called free will play itself out. But we’ll save all that for another day. I don’t want to overload your brain all at one sitting. Besides, I gotta go. There’s a Chat Room on the Church of Universal Cyberspace starting up in ten minutes, and I gotta go play a little Blind Leading the Blind and watch them all fall into my pit. And I don’t mean the pituitary, either. LOL.

Talk to you later.

I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT

P. S. How come you call 98-666-DHRB Gumby?

P.P.S. I know we’ve been over this before, Maggotbrains, but you are like a little kid learning the alphabet. Practice makes perfect. So, here goes. In our Alphabet, the only letters you need to keep straight are the following:

A—that stands for Adversary as in Our Adversary, a/k/a The Big G, a/k/a what you humanoids call God.

B—as in B. Remember, in my world, Our Lowliest Father (OLF, see below) works through agents. He divides his agents up into two groups, B’s and Big B’s. B is the name given to OLF’s agents who haven’t made it to the bottom of the lowerarchical chain like I have. I, my dear, Maggothead, am one of a very few Big B’s. See below.

B—as in The Big B. That’s me. See above. Yes, you should be honored that you have been assigned to me. I may not be who I am not, but I am The Big B. And don’t you ever forget it.

G—as in The Big G, or The Big Guy. Put simply, God.

"OLF"—Our Lowliest Father. Originally he went by the name The Big B, but eventually he outgrew it and subdivided himself into B’s and Big B’s. See my previous e-mail. He does his work in Humanoidland through his B’s and his Big B’s, but collectively he is known as Our Lowliest Father.

That’s about it, Maggs. When it comes to the alphabet, that’s all you need to know. A, B, G, O, L, F. If anything else comes up along the way, I’ll let you know.

5

To:   [e-mail]

From:   [e-mail]

Re:   K. I. S. S.

Maggothead,

Yes, I’ve been out of commission for a few days now. So what? What did I say about questioning me? I’ve been down at the Isles of Langerhans at my buddy’s retirement party. It was held at the local Livertorium, buffet style. I spent the night sucking down a couple of pounds of the best kidneys and intestines I’ve ever tasted and washing it all down with Bluddy Marys by the gallon. I just love that name, Bluddy Mary, don’t you, Maggs? No, I haven’t misspelled it, you jerk. I never did understand why you humanoids spell it with two o’s and one d. My way seems so much more graphic. Just like I never understood why you make it with tomato juice and vodka; my way—an equal dose of Mary’s AB-positive and O-negative seems so much more delectable. Anyway, we topped a perfect evening off with Falsetto’s moving rendition of the unfinished part of Beethoven’s Unfinished Symphony. Only Falsetto could finish it like that. The silence was truly inspiring.

But enough about me! I’m back now, ready and rarin’ to go. Yes, I may have been a little harsh with you in my last correspondence, but so what? That’s ancient history. I forgive me. Let’s move on. If you must know, I’ve been pretty busy lately. A little R & R is just what the Creepster ordered. A couple of months ago I was assigned a new batch of recruits—you aren’t the only pea-brain in whose pituitary I reside, you know. If only it were that simple. It’s none of your business, but they’re so raw I was so worried about being away that it took me until 8:30 to unwind. 8:30, can you believe it? I actually overheard one of ’em reciting one of The Big G’s favorite pieces of dribble the other day, Hail What’s Her Name. I can’t imagine what might have happened if I’d been gone any longer. They probably would have started a flood in Our Lowliest Father’s kitchen and found a way to put out the Eternal Flame of Falsehood.

In a lot of ways, the Hail What’s Her Name guy reminds me a lot of you, Maggothead. He reminds me of you and me when we first got started together. Remember when you . . . . ah, never mind. Life goes on, we move on. C’est la mort.

If I told you my buddy’s name, I’d have to kill you, and I certainly don’t want to do that. Not yet any way. We’re going to have too much fun together in our new adventure, aren’t we? Suffice it to say, to think of my buddy as retired has got to be the ultimate oxymoron. Sort of like eternal happiness or human kindness. He’s chosen a nice little place in the Isles. Yes, that’s right, the Isles of Langerhans are the ones located in the pancreas of humanoids, part of the endocrine system. Don’t you just love it, Maggs? I control things from the pituitary while he can still dabble in the secretion of insulin while sitting around in a hammock all day, drinking Bluddy Marys and watching re-runs of Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe taking turns berating linesmen at Forest Hills. Maybe the next time I pay him a visit, I’ll try it myself. I understand the Isles are quite nice around the Autumnal Equinox. Look it up, Maggs.

But enough about what’s-his-name. Let’s get back to you. No, I haven’t been avoiding you because of your problem with Gumby and his flight to atheism. By the way, great answer to that Gumby question: no backbone, fails to stand up to anybody—that sure does conjure up the image of Gumby. But be careful, that Gumby character can go a long ways on that stupid grin. Your Gumby doesn’t have a stupid grin, does he? I think I might have bumped into him on the internet. When I got back from the Isles, I decided to hang around in the Church of Universal Cyberspace Chat Room. I couldn’t help it. Drumming up recruits was so easy it was laughable. Like picking cherries. I think I might have bumped into him. No biggie. Forty-two hours and a couple of dozen new notches on my tail, and your weary warrior finally had to put himself to bed. But I’m back now and ready for bear.

So you want some practical advice on how to combat Gumby’s precarious position. OK, let’s start with this. Stop being such an idiot. How many times have I told you there are only three—make that four—well, maybe five or six, it all depends on how you count—rules in this business. For the umpteenth time, here they are.

One. K.I.S.S. Keep It Simple, Satan. In other words, stay out of the way. Let human nature take its course. Human nature is on our side. Don’t you ever forget that. And don’t you ever under-estimate human nature. It is impossible to under-estimate. No matter how low you go in your assessment of yourself and your fellow humanoids, it’s never low enough. Trust me. Don’t you just love it?

Two. The Law of Hypocrisy—If I don’t say so myself, this happens to be one of my finer contributions to Luciferian Metaphysics. You aren’t ready for it yet, though, so we’ll move on.

Three. Befuddle. Don’t teach, preach, train, guide, argue with, proselytize, or anything else. Befuddle, and the rest takes care of itself. Again, I must give credit where credit is due. To me. Furthermore, as hard as the Law of Hypocrisy may be for you to digest, the Law of Befuddlement is just that easy. Because it comes so naturally to you and your kind, Maggotmouth. You can’t think straight, you can’t talk straight, you can’t even befuddle straight. That’s what makes my job so much fun.

Remember this one, Maggotbrain, and write it down, bold and in caps:

JUST AS I AM NOT WHO I AM NOT, SO TOO, TO BE IS TO BE.

TO BE-FUDDLE, THAT IS.

LOL. Sorry, Maggs, I couldn’t resist that one. Always remember this one, too. CLEVERNESS IS NEXT TO LOWLINESS. (And it’s even better if it rhymes).

Finally, let’s call this one The Law of the Future. Or at least, The