Angelica Demonica

(audio available for paid subscribers)

There is an Indian fable of three beings who drank from a river: one was a god, and he drank ambrosia; one was a man, and he drank water; and one was a demon, and he drank filth. What you get is a function of your own consciousness.

If there’s a more repulsive image than a human with birdwings growing out of its back, I hope never to see it, and if such a creature ever took a dump on my windshield, I’d blow it out of the sky, drive back and forth over it a few times, wash the blood, feathers and crap off my truck and go grab some tacos. (Relax, there are no laws protecting human-bird hybrids, and I’d wash my hands before I ate.) What I wouldn’t do is believe that a divine emissary of the Lord just appeared as a birdman and I’m the dickweed for killing it. I know how communication works at that level, and it’s not through messenger pigeon-people or flying chicken-folk.

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