Memo From Hell
If you think shooters are a problem in America, imagine how much trouble it causes Down Below.
From: Count Asmodeus, Assistant Manager of Processing
To: Ymar the Abysmal, Logistics Staff
Department of Penalties
Cc: Urmus the Thessaylian, Mr. Vincent Price, Jack Chick
A quick note regarding the continuing problem we have of crowding with an ever growing population (hereafter referred to as ‘the damned’) as well as the jurisdictional problem it entails.
Our challenge, previously discussed, is the increasing number of mass shooters arriving. It’s a bit like the gentrification problem besetting Earth’s urban neighborhoods. Places that used to be full of hellish delights now echo to the wheels of Maxi-Cosi baby strollers and the foaming of latte makers.
I’ll be specific. As per previous memos, we’re seeing a roiling population of damned souls crossing the Styx, who set off on the mass murderer’s path for trifling reasons. They were miffed by screwball politics, the cancellation of favorite tv shows, Mom drinking the last can of Fanta, the ruining of once-proud franchises by the casting of girl actors, etc.
Hell was once the ultimate place of torment for the distinguished wicked. It is, to put it plainly, getting filled with the wrong kind of souls. And that hurts us all.
The wanton killing of blameless humans is so overdone that we cannot really expect to provide prime punishment for the killers. This threatens to tarnish our brand.
When a particular Infraction is committed repeatedly, it degrades the Infraction. I’m sure the longer-memoried will recall the way thorn covered gloves were presented to Onanists, only half an earth century ago. Humans became quite nonchalant about this former shameful sin. The Infernal should be Eternal…but like it or not, the parameters change. Pardon me if I’m Hellsplaining, but it’s a rule. What you can’t inspire guilt for, you can’t really adequately punish.
What we all want here, I feel, is a population that feels they deserve what they’re getting. We should all strive to make the denizens feel as wretched on the inside as they are on the outside, This is more important than the more grisly everyday treatments we do here.
In a previous memo [7/35, Annum of Darkness] we discussed the matter of sinners with unsound minds. The mentally ill are incapable of making a decision not to do something quote bad unquote, such as splattering a disco.
It might be a good time to review policy. Per the Concords of 13000 AD, we’re not allowed to torment for all time someone who was unwillingly victimized by demons…demons, that, technically speaking, we unleashed in the first place. We’re all about fairness here. Those we made mad are not responsible. And if they accept JC while in a prison for the psychotic, of course, we’ve got no jurisdiction. Let them go. I’m certain he’ll enjoy their company.
Many of these new arrivals knew what they were doing, even before the earthly police did their world a favor–and gave OUR world a headache–by killing them. The distinguished arch- punishments we use down here for emperors, dictators and generals would hardly seem fit for this tide of oatmeal colored rubbish, these slug-like Americans with bad haircuts, all so similar that they’re hard to tell apart. From a technical standpoint their sins are the same as Napoleon or Nero, but on such a sadder, lesser degree.
True, it’s easy to torment them merely by telling them there’s no wi-fi in Tartarus, and that they will never post on 8Chan ever again. To add a personal note, I’ve enjoyed the looks on their faces when they find that out. It’s quite fun. That’s the sort of thing we do best down here. A while ago, one of these dolts–who shot up a cinema or a coffee shop, I don’t remember which–thought he was so evil that he’d be seated at the left hand of His Eminence. As if He had any interest whatsoever in midwestern dullards. Disabusing this soul of that fantasy of prestige …that was an absolute pleasure. I even put on the tux and sash for the meeting and cackled a bit. What would Vincent Price do–that’s a question we should all ask ourselves. If you have questions, please ask Mr. Price; I’ve cc’d him.
Letting these Damned know they will never again play shooter games, haunt online forums or receive fan mail from odd tattooed girls is good.
Now comes the question of whether they will ever understand the enormity of their crimes. Can they feel the guilt that makes the eternal Tartarian really suffer?
Having raised this question, I declare it immaterial. Previously, the Punishments Department believed in making the damned live with the images of the victims for eternity, for example, pruning their eyelids and making them watch their spree again and again for millions of cycles. Standard aversion practice. Sturdy enough. But perhaps useless for difficult cases like these. You’ve heard of the case of the Palmdale Sniper, who, forced to watch his crimes over and over, just kept saying “Cool!” and smiling faintly.
I’d suggest that depriving them of all moving images, all “downloadable content,” is a far better plan. Picture it. Blank walls. Welcome to a gray cubicle where you’ll be adding lists of numbers thousands of miles long for several million years, relieved by absolutely awful sandwiches and frequent strained conversations with a middle manager. (Urmus the Thessalyian might want to pitch in here, seeing as he is a long-time specialist in spreading sadness and despair; I’m CC’ing Urmus.)
America is an overstimulated nation, and making these pests endure endless hopeless sunless dullness is, in my view, a keen punishment. Of course, many humans live this sort of life–I wish we’d had something to do with its rise, but it sort of evolved on its own. But among the living there are breaks, anecdotes, cat videos, pink boxes of donuts…that sort of thing.
I’m suggesting that logistics erect the model of a light-industrial park out on the horizon of Hell, where these spree shooters will tap keys for eternity. No recognition of celebrity, no chance to compare notes with some other killers; endless futile work-centuries. It will engender a call to murder they will absolutely be unable to answer. It’s not the usual pinchers, lava lakes and bullet ants, but I suggest it will get our point across.
Plus it will get these cretins out from underfoot. As our own Jack Chick would say, haw haw haw.