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Satan, We Here at The New York Times Have Summoned You So That We Could Interview You for a Puff Piece

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Wow, we can’t believe this conjuring came together so well. Welcome to our earthly plane, Dark Lord. You’re currently standing in a bloody pentagram on the fourth floor of The New York Times Building in Midtown Manhattan. Would you like a ginger ale or something? Wait, you probably don’t drink soda. You only drink blood, right? Or, is that vampires? Anyway, we’ve summoned you here today because we want to write a soft-hitting article that shows the kinder, gentler side of your demonic wrath.

Just to be clear, we’re not planning on mentioning anything about your empire of fire and brimstone in this article. That’s not really the vibe we’re going for here. We’ll mostly just ask about your typical day down in Hell and your favorite Coen brothers movie and stuff like that. This is purely a normalization story where we’ll abandon our journalistic standards and try to portray you as a super palatable figure even though you’re the King of Hell. Sound good? Great, let’s get this ill-advised puff piece started.

You know, for being evil incarnate, you’ve got a real Midwestern charm about you. We’ll definitely mention that in the piece. The way you just politely excused yourself after coughing totally made us forget about the fact that you’re the Devil. Also, you coughed into the crook of your arm, which everyone knows helps stop the spread of germs. That’s the kind of regular, everyday politeness you rarely see in this world anymore. Lord of the Inferno or not, you’re clearly a regular salt of the earth guy and we’re excited to feature a long article about you in our well-respected newspaper.

You honestly don’t seem like such an evil spirit even though you represent a philosophy of darkness and hatred. If you lived next door to us, we could imagine letting you borrow our lawnmower when yours is on the fritz. Sure, you torture people for eternities by stretching them on those medieval stretchy things down in Hell, but you also seem very low-key. You’ve got a real Sam Elliott thing going on. Who wouldn’t want to grab a beer with the Prince of Darkness? You’re a delight! Speaking of which, you can borrow our lawnmower anytime.

Don’t worry, we’ll be sure to mention that the whole “Hell is an endless labyrinth of torture” thing is overblown. So, what’s your favorite kind of pasta? You know, we had to bump an in-depth piece about the humanitarian crisis in Yemen to make room for this fun human interest piece about how unpretentious and downright pleasant you are, Satan. Are you chewing on a toothpick right now? You are so darn folksy, like a finely tuned banjo if that banjo was banished to Hell for rebelling against God.

Okay, that should be enough for a very long article none of our readers asked for or needed. All that’s left is to take some photos of you grocery shopping and sitting pensively in a rocking chair, you lovable scamp.


Bob Vulfov is a comedian and writer who lives in Brooklyn, NY. His website is way fancier than he is: bobvulfov.com.

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