Devil

Why do they have angel-food cake and devil's food cake. Is that what these supreme beings actually eat? Probably thay have some ephemeral afterlife version of these cakes, which are, like, 10,000 times better than our finite, earthly version.They probably have everyone go to the breakroom, sing "Happy Birthday, Dear Gabriel, or Beelzebub, or whatever, and have the most delicious, most badass cake ever. Cake so good that it would kill you or me. Well, I really like chocolate, so I guess I know where I'M going. I just hope they have baseball.

Lucifer, having sinned, was banished from Paradise to the Nether Region. On his descent, he paused for a moment, then went back and approached the Almighty. »I just had a thought,« he said.

»Go on,« God allowed.

»I understand that you are about to create mankind.«

»What of it?« replied God.

»He will need laws....« Lucifer mused.

»Wretch!« thundered He. »You have committed the most grievous sin, yet you ask if you can write mankind's laws?«

»Beg pardon,« bowed Lucifer. »I only ask that he be allowed to write them himself.«

The word 'devil' spells 'lived' backwards. Is this a reference to what poor old Lucifer did before he fell – or an intimation of what he could do again, if only he could turn himself around.

what does it mean to live in the shadow of devil mountain? we watch the sun fall behind the devil's shoulder. the sky glows red, deepens to purple and the shadow swallows the mountain, setting the people free.

Why is the Devil such an attractive figure, you ask? It's because the Devil can do all the bad self-destructive stuff that would kill us, and he just laughs it off.
To wit:

The Devil can smoke (unfiltereds),
he can drive too fast,
he can drink too much (but he's never an asshole because of it)
he can shoot heroin, sniff cocaine, and have group sex with his best friend, his wife, and her hairdresser, all at once,
he can jump off a building,
he can eat oysters in July,
he can pump gas while puffing on a Lucky Strike,
he can eat red meat and scotch every meal of his life,
he can steal your honey like he stole your bike,
he can dodge the bullet you and I can't even see.

We need someone to be this bad, because, like it or not, Keith Richards isn't going to be around forever.

When bored in a bar, Frank usually talked to the bartender.

»Why hello,« said Frank. »You look like a fine Fonzi guy.«

Frank looked into the mirror above the bar. The horizon stretched over his shoulder. David Bowie's face appeared and then dissolved in the low light, until nothing was left but Bowie's snaggle tooth.

»Now this,« said Frank, raising his glass full of blue Newton's Apple, »is living.«