May 17, 2017

The Resume of Captain Kink


I'm Captain Kink. I'm Mister Scratch.
I'm your smiling, deathless dentist, Doctor Pain.
I've owned the Earth since Adam's birth,
And co-authored the book on raising Cain.

But you learned too well my old hard sell,
How I used to tempt your souls with sin and tonic.
And since out-of-date spells don't populate Hell,
I'm gone post-modern, solid-state, and ultra-sonic.

I'm that modern manufacturer
Who swung Liz Borden's ax for her.
I gave you Neutron Bombs and Asian Flu.
I've got old friends in the Senate
(Why, so many I may just rent it,
And, for my summer place, the Kremlin too.).

So when your puny little wars get out of hand,
Just sign in blood and , baby, I'm your man.
Don't you look for any favors from the blessed.
God's angels will just confuse you,
Shame you, bore you, and abuse you.
(They might even convince you life's a mess.)

I'm never that judgmental.
In fact, I'm rather sentimental.
When time's get tough I'll be your only hope.
I'll hold your hand and guide you,
In that darkest dawn I'm right beside you.
(And you know I've always got the finest dope.)

So if doing good is looking...
Rather pale,
And being sweet is tasting...
A bit stale,
And you've got the yen to try...
A little starkness,
Just give me one short call,
You'll have no worries left at all,
When you sign on with Kink,
the Prince of Darkness....

Yes, I'm the Prince of Darkness!
I'm the one that does it all!
I'm the worm that ate the apple,
And I engineered the Fall!
I raise the price of Mideast oil.
I'm the cause of headache pain.
I'm the master of your daily toil.
I put your cake out in the rain!
I make damn sure that nothing nice
Is ever really done.
I'm Mister Scratch, I'm Captain Kink,
I have all the fun!

I developed polyester clothes,
And do-it-yourself divorce.
I'm the master of adultery,
And the excess use of force.
Torture is my daily bread.
Causing cancer's just my meat.
I poke holes in supertankers,
And drop dogshit on the street.

I'm the Prince of your own Darkness,
A swinging spirit of the mist.
I created Sociology,
And "Leading Economists."
I even (No applause please)
Funded The Exorcist.
I'm your occult sugar daddy.
You're my juicy jelly roll.
I produce the TV talk shows.
I'm the King of Rap and Roll.
I've a sub-prime mortgage on your life.
I'll foreclose it on your soul.

And if you think you've got me beat,
And can really live those good intentions --
Like brushing after every meal
And never eating meat,
Or playing fair, or smoking less,
Or relaxing global tensions --
Don't brag and say,
"Hey, ain't life sweet?",
Cause I'll just whip up some new inventions....

... Like advertising, television,
Global Warming, or Prohibition,
(It's all in a day's work to me, you see)
Or Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama
(They've season tickets to my sauna).
It's clear this job will be the death of me.

I introduced Yoko and Juan.
I even elected Kennedy, John,
And followed him up with Jimmy, Willy, and Barry.
I've done plagues and piles and itchy feet,
Afghanistan and New York streets.
There's still more up my sleeve, hey, are you ready?

Oh, I'm that bloody Prince of Darkness
Who's shoved the World out on the brink.
I'm flashy Nick! I'm Super Scratch!
But you can call me Captain Kink.
What you throw into the ocean
comes back home with the tide.
Life's just a play! Live for the day!
And so long, suckers, thanks for the ride.


Posted by Vanderleun at May 17, 2017 1:53 AM
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"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments are moderated and may not appear immediately. Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged.

I was instantly reminded of one of the truly great cinematic soliloquies:

"I nursed him through two divorces, a cocaine rehab, and a pregnant receptionist. God's creature, right? God's special creature. I've warned him, Kevin. I've warned him every step of the way. Watching him bounce around like a fucking game. Like a wind-up toy. Like pounds of self-serving greed on wheels. The next thousand years is right around the corner. Eddie Barzoon... take a good look because he's the poster child for the next millennium. These people, it's no mystery where they come from. You sharpen the human appetite to the point where it can split atoms with its desire. You build egos the size of cathedrals. Fiber-optically connect the world to every eager impulse. Grease even the dullest dreams with these dollar-green gold-plated fantasies until every human becomes an aspiring emperor, becomes his own god. Where can you go from there? As we're scrambling from one deal to the next, who's got his eye on the planet? As the air thickens, the water sours, even bees honey takes on the metallic taste of radioactivity... and it just keeps coming, faster and faster. There's no chance to think, to prepare; it's buy futures, sell futures.. when there is no future. We got a runaway train, boy. We got a billion Eddie Barzoons all jogging into the future. Every one of them is getting ready to fistfuck God's ex-planet, lick their fingers clean, as they reach out toward their pristine, cybernetic keyboards to tote up their fucking billable hours. And then it hits home. You got to pay your own way, Eddie. It's a little late in the game to buy out now. Your belly's too full, your dick is sore your eyes are bloodshot and you're screaming for someone to help. But guess what, there's no one there! You're all alone, Eddie, 'CAUSE YOU'RE GOD'S SPECIAL LITTLE CREATURE."

"John Milton," played by Al Pacino in The Devil's Advocate, describing the milieu that gave rise to his doomed partner Eddie Barzoon.

Posted by: Francis W. Porretto at March 4, 2009 2:41 PM

Ah, that's utterly great. Thanks, Francis.

Posted by: vanderleun at March 4, 2009 5:31 PM

it also reminded me of The Simpsons's Stonecutter's song:

"Who controls the British Crown?
Who keeps the Metric System down?
We do! We do!
Who leaves Altantis off the maps?
Who keeps the Martians under wraps?
We do! We do!
Who holds back the electric car?
Who makes Steve Guttenberg a star?
We do! We do!
Who robs cave fish of their sight?
Who rigs every Oscar night?
We do! We do! "

Posted by: alephael at March 27, 2009 11:20 PM

Well, now I'm depressed after reading all that. No hope. We're through.

Posted by: Jewel at July 14, 2012 11:26 AM

Don't despair, Jewel. The Good Guys win in the end.

The current world system will fall apart sooner or later. That doesn't mean we won't have to suffer, though. It took the USSR 70 years to fall apart.

The secret is to keep your fighting spirit up no matter how bad it gets. Think of Orwell's 1984. If Winston Smith had said, "Fuck you and your Room 101. MORE RATS!", he would have defeated Big Brother. All he had to do to win was conquer fear.

And what conquers fear?

Posted by: B Lewis at July 14, 2012 5:08 PM

Thanks Bruce. I'm having a crisis of faith and on the brink of converting to Roman Catholicism. If you knew the sort of religious upbringing I had, you'd know that I would be disowned and uggh. I am more optimistic than I sound, but Vanderleun channels the very devil so well the little hairs on my neck went all agley.

Posted by: Jewel at July 14, 2012 9:17 PM

Jewel -

May I correspond with you privately regarding this matter? My own experiences may prove valuable to you.

You can write me at Of course, if you'd rather not, I completely understand.

Bruce Lewis

Posted by: B Lewis at July 15, 2012 6:39 AM

That thing could make the centerpiece of one hell of a Broadway musical. Heh. Literally.

Posted by: Rich Fader at July 16, 2012 1:58 PM

Maybe Gerard's telling us about his vacation to Hell. I just hope he gets back with the slides. We have to see the slides.

Posted by: Jewel at July 16, 2012 2:01 PM

Get back here, Gerard!

In the meantime, I'm cooking up a counter-point to this awesome show-stopper.

Posted by: Joan of Argghh at July 17, 2012 9:54 AM

You're makin' us get all worried.


Posted by: jwm at July 17, 2012 9:01 PM

Okay. I'm back. Regular posting to resume presently.

Posted by: vanderleun at July 18, 2012 1:42 AM


Screwtape's boss doesn't pull any punches does he?

Posted by: monkeyfan at July 27, 2013 10:04 AM

The devil's finest trick is to persuade you that he doesn't exist, at least running neck-and-neck with persuading you that the rest of what you're li'ble to read in the Bible ain't necessarily so. But don't assume from the fact that he's trying to lead you to believe all of that, that he himself believes any of it.

Posted by: Rich Fader at July 27, 2013 2:22 PM

That nasty little ditty was a balm for my injured soul! I'm in a personal hell just now and laughing at the devil, rather than with him, was just what I needed. Laughter is the antidote to fear.

"I put your cake out in the rain!" Hahahaha! I knew that song was written by Satan. I knew it!

Extraordinary. It made my day brighter.

Posted by: Gray at July 28, 2013 12:00 AM

Reading the biographies of atheist philosophers, I an consistently surprised that they felt capable of matching wits with the Infinite.

It is the ultimate vanity.

God and Satan can't exist because "I can't fathom
(or "I am so intelligent, that if God existed, I would know it." )

We all note the inconsistencies in Judo-Christian history, but they are human attempts at understanding the Infinite.

Posted by: elr at July 28, 2013 6:39 PM


But I wish there had been a reference to the new Commie Pope...

...who reminds me that Satan quotes Scripture.

Posted by: Smokey at July 14, 2015 10:40 AM

I would love to hear this set to music, but I can't think of any contemporary musicians who would do it justice.


Posted by: jwm at May 19, 2017 7:19 AM