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Satan and The Wanna-Be's
Transcript of a talk given by David Truman
David: (laughs) This is called "Lucifer and the Wanna-Be's."
So it's like this: Did wrong; now what? The first step: outsource the responsibility to a superior Satan who, in spite of your tremendous efforts to resist, outplayed you.
So Bishop Jakes says, "Well, he's playing up here, and you're playing down here." Right? "You can't even hope to compete with an enemy of that virtuosity."
And I'm going, "Oh yeah. Sure. Like maybe if you think Wal-Mart clothes are high fashion. Or you have a 23 IQ. Or you're a candidate for Jerry Springer. Then maybe Satan's playing up here, and you're playing down here." But the fact is, if you have a 40 IQ or better, Satan's playing neck and neck. Ya know.
You're aspiring to be beaten by Satan. But it's really very difficult to play that poorly.
But people in the Jerry Springer crowd are really pretty easy to fool. They're the type of guy that actually goes out with a transsexual, and actually makes it with them, and then later on finds out.
They don't get up too early in the morning, I don't think. That's not very bright. They're not the sharpest knife. This is the type of person who gets beaten by Satan.
When a kid comes on Halloween night, of all times, with a big huge Sheriff's badge and a pretend cop hat and a little polystyrene club, and he says, "This is the police, give me all your money." And the housewife goes there, and goes to the safe, gets all the money, and gives it to this little six-year old kid with a plastic ...
David: Oh yeah, he's playing up here, you know? You wish he was playing up there! You wish that's what happened! You wish he was so clever! You see?
When you hear people saying their stuff, the first thing you go is, "Kuh! Listen to yourself talking! You really believe this crap?" "Oh yeah, my Master (Satan) told me." Look, your Master's an idiot! Okay? Your Master would be rejected for Jerry Springer for being so dumb. "You're not smart enough for our show." "What do you mean?" "I mean, you don't know what I mean when I say you're not smart enough for our show. That's what I mean." "Huh??? I still don't get it." "Oh great, yeah. Just go. Just go. Okay?"
People say this stuff, and it's so stupid. When they say their Satanic stuff, you go, "Think with your thoughts! Do you realize what you're saying, how stupid this is? Do you realize that if you thought about this for a second, you'd realize what an insane crock you're speaking right now? You're trying to say (speaks gibberish), and it's all completely messed up! Aren't you even listening to yourself?" I'm telling you, these are the words directly from the Master Satan himself!
I figured it out: the Master Satan is just sort of an average Jerry Springer candidate. He's not smart at all. If you look at the whole MyWayism, and you look at the things, you'll find out: he's got two or three arguments for everything. They all suck. They really suck.
You're going, "You're insulting my intelligence with this. You're going to come into my court, and you're going to say this? And make me listen to this? You're insulting this court! You're insulting the intelligence of your loyalists. They're not that stupid. They just want to believe they are! They're the wanna-be's. They want to be dumber than you. But they're not."
They get the whole thing of, "Satan's fighting up here. Satan was an incredible, powerful force, you know. Then I went to heroin." It turns out what happened, the guy was just watching Monday Night Football. He wanted some heroin. He just rushed straight over to his pal's who has the heroin, bought it, and shot it. And then he goes to the pastor, and he talks about how Satan outplayed him: It was a powerful struggle; he gave it everything he had; but then at the final end, Satan overpowered him.
Lookit, where's the overpowering? I don't see any signs of a scuffle in here. You got up. You walked over to your friend's. You bought the dope, and you shot it. Ya know? That's how complicated that was.
So when the whole thing turns out to be stupid, when you start to realize that the stupidity of the arguments that your friends give you when they're in their Satan mode is the Master's voice, and it's the same stupid stuff you spout when you're in your Satan mode, then you begin to realize that the story's beginning to wear a little thin -- about how Satan overpowered everybody, and Satan's way too clever for everybody. That's not even what's happening. It's not happening that way at all.
So, when that whole outsourcing-the-problem-to-the-Master-Satan-that-you-were-beaten-by falls thin, and everybody realizes what a crock that is, then you go to your second step. Which is the next thing you do if you did something wrong. And that is, you basically say you're Satan.
And I'm saying no. Just because you go to Wal-Mart and you buy a Boy George hat doesn't mean you're Boy George. Do you see what I mean? Boy George is a rich heroin addict in London in a million dollar townhouse with real creepy friends that you wish you could know. You don't know anybody half that creepy. All your friends are just suburban idiots. They never got near heroin. They don't know any popular songs worth a damn. They can't sing, or get tweaky. They don't watch snuff movies. They don't do hardly anything cool. You are completely not Boy George. Okay? And no, you can't come into the club tonight. You're fifteen, and that's a Boy George hat, but you're not him. Now go home. Come back in seven years. Okay?
So the guy comes back in drag. And the door guy just goes, "Gimme that!" Takes all this stuff out. Kleenex. All this kleenex. "Now get out." You wish! You can't afford a Wonderbra, even, Mister Kleenex. You thought I thought you were Madonna? I didn't. I didn't actually think you were. You're a wanna-be. There's one born every minute.
You wish you were Sid Vicious. You wish you were the other gunman on the grassy knoll. You wish you were Hitler. You wish you were James Bond. You're not. You're just the third dweeb from the left in Mrs. McGillicuddy's class.
You're not bad. You're not evil. You're not about to teach everybody a lesson. You're not about to condemn them all to hell, or give them a lobotomy. You're not about to hatchet murder them like your hero Dahlmer, and put them in a freezer. You're not about to do that. The closest you're going to get to a body part is a fingernail clipping, if you're lucky. I know your mom still does your nails.
So, all this "I'm Satan" -- look, I got news for ya, Satan isn't even Satan. Satan is just a sub-drooler from the third grade that couldn't pass anything. Satan is so stupid that he's giving the arguments that you think are stupid -- every time you're not saying them, I mean. That's Satan.
You just wish you were evil. Every suburban kid wishes he was evil. That's a given. Every little junior high school girl wishes she was a slut. You wish you were a slut! Give me that kleenex! In your dreams you're a slut. You should be so lucky.
You just want to be the evil one. You want to break up families and stuff like this. Break up families? You can't even reach the doorbell! Come back in a billion years.
Here's how you can tell you're not evil: because being evil bothers you. Evil people don't feel that way at all.
That makes you a wanna-be. That's just as far as you're going to be able to get. So you have to face up to it: You're not evil, and Satan is not powerful. And Satan's not smart, and you're not dumb. That's the sad truth. Read it and weep. You're not dumb, he's not smart. You're not evil, you see? You're not Satan, and neither is he. He's just a little punk. You can outplay him in three moves. He doesn't have anything.
It's funny how these reputations go, but you can see why it does. Imagine all those people, how they're so disposed to mess up, how they need an excuse, why they invented Satan, why they rely on the fact that Satan always is beating them. They don't want to take responsibility for diddly. Of course they don't. They've got to have their Satan.
And if it ever gets to where somebody blows that out of the water and totally invalidates it, then they're going to have to be Satan. They're going to be a wanna-be Satan, with the little toy horns and the little Satan outfit with the little tail, the little polyester tail. All this stuff.
Look, the only reason you're in your Satan outfit is because you want to get a whole bag full of candy. Let's face it: candy's not good for you.
by David Truman
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