Neither the primary care or the endocrinologist had a lot of studies on aspartame poisoning they could pull up, but both suggested the same thing: stop using it, then; let’s see what happens.
So ... my first morning using light cream and a teaspoon of stevia instead. You know, if there’s one thing I don’t like, it’s having my morning coffee messed with. So I wasn’t happy with the taste, no – right now it tastes more like espresso to me than my morning coffee. But I spent weeks in Italy drinking coffee that tasted exactly like this, so I thought: I can adapt. If this is what the issue was, all this time ... I can definitely adapt. I’m not sure how much time I should be giving this.
In C’era una volta, I was reaching the point where I needed to figure out where the character of Satan originated. I knew he wasn’t part of the Jewish tradition, so I needed to learn where the concept originated and why – mainly because I needed to know where John Milton came up with his rather colorful version of the guy. Christians had to have drawn it from somewhere, and for some reason ... surely there had to be more to it than just controlling people out of fear, although I’m sure that was an added benefit of coming up with the Big Bad to point at and blame for everything they did that fell short of ethical purity.
I also knew other traditions believed in a “dark and light” duality, but even they hadn’t come up with a being to embody the dark side of things. Zoroaster, for example, taught that darkness and light (or also translated as lies and truth) existed inside of each person and it was their responsibility to decide which side gained the upper hand.
Like most people, deities had always encompassed both light and dark aspects. Pazuzu was a perfect example: if you were a Sumerian, he was a household protector, someone you called upon to protect you and your family, someone you admired and thanked wholeheartedly for your blessings ... and someone who sent locusts when he was pissed off. Like anyone else, he had his sunshiny and cloudy days. And he was definitely not known as a being who possessed little girls and made them throw up green split-pea soup and masturbate with crucifixes until The Exorcist – if the ancient Sumerians were still around, they would be seriously pissed off at how badly the poor guy was libeled in that film. (But since they’re not, I’ll act in their stead). Blatty made that up, everybody!!! All of that disgusting stuff came out of Blatty’s head, not Pazuzu’s!! Just saying!
So I was reading a biographical history of the character. Unfortunately, it was written back in 1865, in an age where people would write coy little things like, “A popular Christian clergyman, the Rev. Mr. D ----, in a fit of inspirational turgescence and mental explosion ...” and should you wish to verify said “inspirational turgescence” – you’re basically out of luck, because who the heck knows who he’s supposedly quoting?
But what a great turn of phrase! I would love to use that on somebody. You know, like you’re on a first date, and the guy is boring you witless with his relentless self-indulgent opinions on everything. You bat your eyelashes and purr: “Oh myyyy, what inspirational turgescence!”
Okay, fine if you’re too lazy to look it up: tur·ges·cence (tûr-jĕs′əns). n. The condition of being swollen, the process of swelling, pomposity; self-importance. Happy now?
Point is: the author, Kersey Graves, was prone (in his own variation of turgescence, I would imagine) to write coy little sentences like that, making the heads of his readers ... or more specifically, me ... blow up in frustration.
But back to the Rev. Mr. D ---- of Xenia, Ohio, whoever he was ... this was part of his sermon to a congregation of men, women .. and impressionable young children. Read this, and you’re thinking, “Wow. No wonder people walk around filled with such horror and dread ... what a horrible image to lay out in front of them! Everyone you know and love – your spouse, your parents, your siblings – in unspeakable agony, while this awful being is stomping on them, sending geysers of their blood all over his own clothes, with a look of ... delight?? ... on his face. Because ... why? They’ve made a mistake? They did something wrong? This is their supposed loving deity? He sounds worse than all of the world’s most evil tyrants rolled up into one ... a demonic creature so horrible you’d beg to escape any universe in which this thing has any place at all.
And where did the Rev. Mr. D ----- get his awful imagery? Can you just imagine him simply writing out this grotesque sermon? Surely – you think – he had to have a biblical source of inspiration for this – surely it didn’t come out of his own horribly twisted mind! And you’d be wrong, of course.
As neither the Torah or the Bible has any such description – the good (and I use that term rather doubtfully) Reverend just plain old made it up ... in the days before blood-soaked horror movies, apparently church on Sundays was the rough equivalent. But what he did have was Isaiah 45:7.
From the various versions:
I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things (KJV).
I form the light, and create darkness, I make peace, and create calamity; I, the Lord, do all these things (NKJV).
I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the Lord, do all these things (NIV).
The One forming light and creating darkness, causing well-being and creating calamity; I am the Lord who does all these (NASB).
I form light and create darkness, I make weal and create woe, I am the Lord, who does all these things (RSV).
Yes, what the reverend did have was proof that the original texts christians draw from (in this case the old testament, or the Torah) state rather baldly that it is their deity who is the source of all evil, not a separate entity. Which would certainly explain how the poor, unsuspecting citizens of Xenia, Ohio got hit with such a nightmarish description, although it’s equally astounding that they didn’t all run screaming out the church doors and move to Columbus, where things might have been presented to them more rationally. No offense to the residents of Xenia, but ... why didn’t you just fire the pulpit-pounding, blood-thirsty fool? True, they might have – we’ll never know, will we?
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