The Divine Stupidity

[I'm reading The Divine Comedy right now, a classic epic poem written my some long dead person called Dante Alighieri. I am of course not as egotistical to think that my inane post can compare to his work. However I can't think of anything else to write about right now.]


Now as we reached the edge of the chasm,
A foul stench filtered up our nostrils,
So we would be forgiven even by the punctilious,

For our language which matched the stench’s foulness.
Let not the amorphous glob that seems to take delight,
At sitting next to me on long bus rides on humid days,

Boast any longer that he may curl back anyone’s eyelashes,
Through the power of his repulsive body odour alone.
The source of the foul stench was revealed to us,

When after we had gotten used to it,
(as much as one can get used to having sweaty
Gym socks filled with rotten eggs shoved into where

One would normally bring to summer flowers)
As we ventured to peer over the ledge.
There, at the bottom were multitudes of shades,

Bloated to a point where it seemed,
A slight prick would force them to yield
Their innards in an explosive fashion.

Sensing my disgusted confusion,
My knowing guide spoke, “these shades
Are punished for the sin of gourmet dining,

Where in life, they have forced a goose,
To eat more than it would ever need.
So too are these shade forced into their bloated forms.

Behold! how the great wisdom has meted his righteous justice,
These shades cannot stop feasting on each other’s livers,
Even as their own is being consumed.”

And I intrigued, entreated my guide to converse with the sinners.
We climbed down the craggy precipice where it sloped.
And at once, a shade in between stuffing his face spoke,

“who is this that roam this hopeless realm unmolested?
Are you a servant of the fell one?”
And I, “Nay, I am but a writer of a blog,
I am on a journey to reach the heights,

Where one can attain the most glorious
Of all prizes, the prize of internet fame.
Tell me, disgusting blob, have you a name?”

“I take umbrage at thy insulting remark,
If my legs have not been crushed under my enormous frame,
And I could control my irresistible urge to eat this man’s liver,

I would do more than this, but alas!
That isn’t so, therefore a Fuck You would have to suffice.”
“I apologise I am merely in shock at your

Gelatinous form. Pray tell me your name.”
And the sinner replied, “When my body still drew breath,
I was known throughout the land as Anthony Bourdain.

I earned fame as a host of a travel show
Where I roamed the world in search of food
To stuff my face in, as my show grew in popularity,

So did my feasting, as I was trapped,
In a vicious cycle, trying to one-up myself.
Now in death I am forced with my fellow sinners

To gorge ourselves on each other’s livers,
As we have gorged ourselves on the livers
Of the divine will’s flightful creations.

The taste of our rotting carcasses bring not pleasure
But nausea and so we expel what we cannot keep down.
And yet our mouths cannot stop their invidious endeavour.”

And I having heard what that odious shade had to say,
Spake these words, “My, this would make a good update for my blog.”