Once for an assignment, the teacher asked us to pen our idea of hell. General notions of sulfur and fire abounded, save my dear friend who described it simply as “jelly donuts: without the jelly.” While I realize that within the scope of her humor, she probably meant little by it, thinking back I cannot help but muse over the truth in such a trivial statement- a loose analogy to the fact that hell is, at base, the deceitfully empty promise of something which one would commonly expect. One sees the donut, and from its basic form deduces it is jelly filled, but upon the first hopeful bite, discovers he has been duped.
Often, described all too wrongly as brimstone and flames, true hell is a crisp something sound system that continuously plays Hillsong (all day…all day now…all day.) Hell is a large 3-D movie screen that shows nothing but Joel Osten sermons. Hell is a beautiful mahogany library stocked with nothing but Rick Warren books. That is, hell is the expectation of enlightening literature deflated by the reality of a moralistic 12 step program that will enable you to quit whichever vice is most ailing you (in truth, this vice probably isn’t bothering you at all, but as quietly declared by the prevailing ideology, damn well should.)
As such, hell is also summarily definable as the purest form of torture: pancakes, with no syrup.
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