As regular or irregular (try kaopectate) readers of my rants know, I am not a religious man, in much the same way that round is not square and red is not blue. However, this has changed. As He did with Paul on the road to Damascus, the Lord God has reached out and touched my soul. He showed me a vision which compelled me to toss my old beliefs aside, and to call out my repentance, and praise His name for all eternity.
I saw hell. Not some metaphorical hell with red suited devils and pitchforks, nor some Dantesque political commentary. I looked into the Pit, into pure and utter evil without any ambiguity. Evil, my friends, is not a social construct, nor an outmoded term for non-conformist behavior. No, evil is real, utter, and absolute.
It is said that God is the creator of all things, and that Satan, who loathes God, mocks the Creator with his blapshemous distortions. So it was with the portal to hell. It was a building, andyet, it wasn't. As the Lord God dwells in a castle in heaven, so, too, Satan has made a mockery castle on Earth. It thrust from the ground twisted and distorted, its towers canted at odd angles, its grounds festooned with hideous distortions of animal life.
In this vision, I was one of an endless number of lost souls, of all races and nations. We stood in endless lines, the lines themselves twisted back onto each other, forming blasphemous patterns. Slowly, yet with dread regularity, we moved forward, step by soul-numbing, plodding, step. At regular intervals (the regularity hegihtened the terror) the inhabitants of the castle, the damned fallen angels who serve their dark lord Lucifer, would emerge in grim parade to mock us and give us an early glimpse of the horrors which awated s within.
At last we came to the bleak river which ran through the castle. Whether this was the Styx of legend, or something even fouler, I do not know. There was no sole Charon there to guide us, but, rather, a small horde of ferrymen. Perhaps they were souls serving a deeper punishment, or perhaps demons in human guise. I did not question their nature, but obeyed their orders absolutely, as we were all herded into small boats and sent plummetting down the dark river into the depths of utter and indescribable abomination.
We drifted past the mockery menagerie, the grotesque distortions of animal life, and then down, down, down, into darkness. Then it began. On all sides, vile and perverse travesties of the human form emerged. As if to remind us that God judges all equally, the damned were garbed in parodic copies of so-called 'traditional' garb from around the world, one nation after another, each and every one shown for the empty vanity that it is. As filty rags unto the Lord are the works of man!
But this was not all. The vision would have been enough, enough to turn my soul eternally to the service of the Lord, but Yahweh, who once drowned babies in their mothers arms in the name of purification, is not prone to do thing by halves. No, the vision was accompanied by noise. Imagine the screams of all the victims of all the evil of all the Earth. Now imagine it amplifed and transformed, and twisted into some unnameable distortion of music. If angels sing praise unto God, this is the song the fallen angels sing unto Satan.
It did not end. It went on, and on, and on, until I could take no more! God, I beseech thee! I cried. Take me from this place, an I will turn my skills to your service! My words shall serve only thy cause!
Then it did, indeed, end, as God took mercy upon me and freed me, and so, fulfilling my sacred vow, I write this to you.
Thus endeth my tale of my trip through "It's A Small World" at Disneyland.
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