The Devil Went Down to Harvard (w/Apologies to Charlie Daniels)

By now, you’ve probably heard about the organization hosting a Black Mass at Harvard.  

My first reaction, of course,  was horror.  I’m still horrified, but as I became more familiar with the story, the absurdity of the situation began to take center stage.  Here you have Lucien Greaves, a “Satanist” who doesn’t actually believe in Satan (or the supernatural in general)hosting some sort of self-styled “Black Mass” which he has never done before and, apparently, has no appreciation for the significance of, actually being stunned–stunned, I tell you–that anyone would be upset about his actions while simultaneously being unsure whether they are actually committing a sacrilege because, in his estimation, people from his group are both too lazy and apathetic to have bothered to try to procure a consecrated host–at least he thinks.

Got all that?  Clearly, this is not Beelzebub’s A-Team.

Elizabeth Scalia, in particular, has done the heavy lifting getting the facts of this story (go read the link to get caught up) and my fellow Patheosi have done an outstanding  job alternatively getting the word out, agitating, advocating, and fisking this horror (links to their posts also at Elizabeth’s site). In short, having covered all the bases, they’ve left little for me to do.  So, after a long day of watching them chase this story down, I posted a bit of comic relief on our private, Patheosi Facebook page as a way of both encouraging my blogging brethren and joining them in marveling at the utter cotton-headed ninny-muggin-ness of the people behind this blasphemy; from Lucien & Co. all the way down to the erstwhile administrative geniuses at Harvard who both approved and then subsequently vaguely defended their actions by producing a statement that argues for their right to host a “Black Mass” without mentioning the words, “Black Mass”, to…well, the mind swims.

Anyhoo, my colleagues enjoyed my parody so much that they encouraged me to make it public (which is my way of saying that if you don’t like it, blame them).  So, while others continue to do the noble work of raising awareness, encouraging prayer, and calling the faithful to action,  I will content myself with being  a court jester, pointing to the laughable banality of the intellects of the people staging this farce.

With that, I give you, “The Devil Went Down to Harvard” (with apologies to Charlie Daniels).

THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO HARVARD (with apologies to Charlie Daniels)


Verse 1:
The Devil went down to Harvard, he was lookin’ to git some press / When he happened upon some hapless rubes and said, “Hey, let’s make a mess!” / He said to Lucien Greaves, “Yo, dude, why don’t you have a “mass”? You can paint it black! Go tell the world! Offend them all en masse.”

Well, Lucien said, “Y’know, Old Scratch, you’re just a metaphor / but fame’s one thing my precious, gothic, po-mo, self adores. / I’ll have your mass, although it’s crass, and my publicist will boast, ‘Guess what, y’all, we got ourselves a consecrated host!'”

Dum, Dum, Dummmmmmmmmm. (Chicka-boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom….)

Well, Lucien didn’t realize that he was spittin’ in the wind/ He thought he’d tweak some Jesus freaks and that would be the end / But then the kitchen got too hot, he couldn’t stand the heat / That’s just what comes from makin’ buds with the Prince of all Deceit.

Lucien didn’t count on all the bad press that he got. / He played with matches, then he cried when things became too hot. / He thought that he was gonna be a latter-day Voltaire / It turned out, Fuzzy-Wuzzy had no hair!

Verse 2:
Well, once he realized just how his scat had hit the fan / Li’l Lucien Greaves (Lord, bless his heart) just turned his tail and ran. / His publicist said, “There’s no host! Dudes, we were just confused!” / And Metaphorical Satan? He just sat back, all amused.

So, let this be a lesson, all you would-be Satan spawn / Don’t leave your mamma’s basements or we’ll tell you all, “be gone!” / Stop playin’ games with powers that you barely understand. / ‘Cause chances are things won’t work out quite just the way you planned. (to Chorus).


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