The TV Show "Lucifer" and the Difference Between Real Evil and Stage "Evil"

Recently I’ve started watching the series “Lucifer” on Netflix. Lucifer Morningstar is the devil, and he is on vacation and running a nightclub in Los Angeles. I’m only on the third episode and it’s clear that he’s being influenced (for the good) by some of the people around him, but even apart from that influence, this character isn’t very devilish. He isn’t evil; he’s only “evil.”
That is, there’s a difference between real evil and stage “evil”, rather like there’s a difference between being a ballet dancer and simply wearing a costume of tutu and ballet shoes. I’m not complaining. If the character were truly evil, the show would be unwatchable. Who wants to watch a show with a totally unsympathetic main character?
(Note: I did just finish watching “Deathnote”, but the main character started off thinking he was pursuing justice, even if he was wrong about his methods. He became increasingly evil as the show went on, but he was opposed by some good characters and it made for a fascinating battle of wits. As long as you have equally important good characters in opposition and the main character isn’t completely evil, you can still have a very watchable series.)
Stage “evil” is the fun kind, the trappings of evil without the substance. Lucifer has devilish good looks and charm, a bold disregard for rules and authority, and a penchant for causing trouble. But let’s notice that the people he causes trouble for are usually themselves either troublemakers or really irritating people. He scares a school bully and terrifies a fraudulent street preacher. If he really wanted to increase the misery in the world, he should have encouraged them, not scared them. But the audience wouldn’t like him then, because that would be real evil.
He also runs a nightclub with scantily clad dancers and is often found in bed with a number of individuals of either gender who are equally scantily clad (and would be wearing even less if this weren’t a TV show.) But notice that it is strongly implied that all these individuals chose to be there, and that there is never the slightest hint that the nightclub dancers might be exploited or working for him only reluctantly. He’s sleeping with a psychiatrist, but there’s no suggestion that she might be married or otherwise attached. No one gets hurt.
I said that he does cause trouble for troublemakers, and Lucifer rationalizes his selectivity by saying that he is punishing evil-doers, and isn’t punishing evil what the devil is supposed to do? 
 That’s curious, because punishing evil doesn’t itself seem evil (though it isn’t merciful either.) If the devil is supposed to be evil, presumably he would encourage evil-doing in order to cause more misery. The devil is supposed to tempt people in ways that twist their souls and ruin their lives and the lives of other people as well.
But again, a main character who was truly evil wouldn’t make for an entertaining show. If you want to learn about real evil, there are plenty of documentaries, but I wouldn’t call them “entertaining.”
Why make a big deal about this distinction between evil and “evil”? Because real evil doesn’t come with labels, and people sometimes mistake stage “evil” for the real thing.
I’m thinking, for instance, of people I have known who find dark, occult-looking things appealing. Or maybe they’re into vampires. Stage “evil.” They’re playing with props. They aren’t really evil at all. But some people don’t seem to realize that. They take the appearance of stage “evil” as a desire for the real thing.
Granted, there are some people drawn to stage “evil” who really are kind of twisted, and others who do so in order to shock and offend (not exactly a kind motive). On the other hand, there are people who are drawn to exactly the opposite symbols (of goodness and light) while behaving in a genuinely evil manner. You really have to look at people’s deeds, not their outerwear or outer attitude.
So, I’m enjoying a TV show about the devil on vacation in Los Angeles. That’s okay. It doesn’t mean I’ve been drawn to the dark side. I know the difference between “evil” and evil.

The Diva’s Challenge #373 and Diversifying One’s Hobbies


This week, the Diva challenged everyone to draw a tangle using their non-dominant hand. This was, admittedly, a bit frustrating. It’s so much easier to control a pen with my usual hand. The results are a lot better, too.
A Zentangle Diva's Challenge #373 done with non-dominant hand
The Diva’s Challenge #373
On the other hand, it reminded me of something that’s been on my mind off and on for several years. We don’t know what the future holds for us. More specifically, we don’t know what capacities we may lose as time goes by.
What if I lost the use of my right (dominant) hand? I would haveto use the other hand to draw. It’s good to know that I can manage some sort of drawing with my left, if I have to. But it would be very distressing, nonetheless, as so many of my hobbies involve work with my hands.
Most of my hobbies also involve my eyes. So I ask myself, if I couldn’t see very well, what would I do for entertainment? I like music, but it isn’t a big part of my life. I could still listen to books, thankfully, though I find listening to books slow and rather frustrating since I can’t flip back easily to check earlier details. (This is especially awkward for mysteries.) I could still go for walks and I could still enjoy gardening to some degree, since I’ve always been interested as much in the scents of plants as in their appearance.
Other people have different hobbies that require different capacities. For people who love to go hiking or rafting, being unable to use their arms or legs well would take away a source of joy. Other people would hate to lose music. And for people who love to cook, losing their sense of taste would also mean losing a favorite activity—how can you enjoy cooking a new recipe if you can’t taste it?
My point is that I would be wise to cultivate some hobbies that don’t use exactly the same capacities that most of my other hobbies do. Maybe I should cultivate more large-motor activities, in case my fine-motor skills deteriorate some day. Maybe I should take more of an interest in music, or in conversation, in case my eyes give me trouble.
There is also the possibility that some day my cognitive skills will deteriorate (may that day be FAR away.) I will still have time to fill. Perhaps, in that case, familiar, simple tasks would be soothing.
What might these be? Knitting an endless scarf in garter stitch? Doing simple jigsaw puzzles? Peeling potatoes, maybe, as I remember Grandpere doing when he was no longer capable of cooking on his own? It seemed to me that he felt better when he was contributing in some way. Perhaps I should find out what activities people can generally manage in this situation and cultivate some of them. You can’t peel potatoes automatically if you haven’t peeled a whole lot of potatoes beforehand with attention.
Someone whose name I can’t remember came up with a chart that categorized activities as high- or low-energy, and high or low in sociability. His point (I think it was a he) was that people should cultivate some activities that fall into each of these four groups. Sometimes people’s energy levels will be low, in which case reading (low sociability) and doing jigsaw puzzles with other people (high sociability) might be good options. Or their energy levels might be fine, but there aren’t a lot of people to do things with, so they need some activities they can do by themselves, like going for a walk.
The recommendation was aimed at older people, but when you think about it, it’s a good idea at any age. I’m suggesting here that it just doesn’t go far enough.
Till next post.

"The Poisoner's Handbook" and Reading About Real Evil

Recently I read The Poisoner’s Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York, by Deborah Blum. I was originally looking for information on poisons for a possible new mystery novel, but got caught up in the stories of poisonings, both accidental and deliberate, and the development of techniques for detecting them—not to mention the story of Prohibition in New York, and the politics that was inevitably involved along the way.
It was a very good book, but there was nonetheless something sort of creepy about reading an interesting story about a poisoning and remembering, suddenly, this really happened. Mary Frances Creighton really did kill first her brother, then a friend, with arsenic. A group of three people really did take out insurance on an old drunk, and then kill him with carbon monoxide after several attempts to kill him in other ways failed. Some people—too many—really are capable of doing evil things.
This brought to mind an incident from years ago, in college. Our class had been assigned a reading on pornography by someone whose name I have now forgotten. She described in impassioned terms some incredibly degrading images and corresponding attitudes toward women. Seriously, to say that these people were treating women as objects fails to recognize how much more carefully and gently we treat most of our inanimate possessions. It was extreme.
A number of us were sitting on the steps outside, waiting for class. One young woman started talking about the article, basically saying that it had seemed kind of over-the-top to her. “Who really thinks like that? None of the men I know,” she said.
An older student in the class, a soft-spoken man in his late twenties or thirties, heard her. “I’ve known men like that,” he told her. “They’re out there. Believe me.” I think everyone went quiet for a while after that.
So now I’m thinking maybe I should read about people who do horrible things, if only to remind myself that some people are capable of knowingly and willingly inflicting terrible suffering on others.  I do read about terrible things in the newspaper, but there’s a difference between reading about, say, dictators, who deal in evil on a scale that’s hard to comprehend (and often dealt out through intermediaries), and reading about quite ordinary individuals carrying out quite specific and describable crimes.
I’ve been lucky enough not to have had to deal with anyone really evil. Even people who are merely very unpleasant have generally been on the fringes of my life, not a daily part of it. As a result, perhaps, I tend to look for a charitable explanation for people’s actions.  
Often this is a good thing. But as the cases in The Poisoner’s Handbook show, sometimes there’s no room to wonder whether a person’s intentions were misunderstood or their actions excusable. Killing someone for insurance money makes one’s attitude toward other people quite clear. Sometimes, people really are just that bad.
It’s something to keep in mind.
Till next post.