Screwtape Letters, 2013 Letter Four

Dear Wormwood,

It appears as though Halloween has come early for you. Skid-mark from the American consulate informs me that news of your failure has in no significant way made it to his part of the world. TIME led with a piece on suburban wildlife. NEWSWEEK was on about yoga for the corpulent female terrestrials. I had lunch with Ted and Rupert and they assured me they were under no pressure to propagate the story, so we needn’t concern ourselves with the networks. FORBES produced a damaging online op-ed, but not to worry, we already have a firm hold on the FORBES crowd. It appears as though you have been saved again by the pursuit of trivia, nephew. And they say, “Don’t sweat the small things”.

What can we learn from this? Please note that when I say “we” I mean “you”, Nephew. You can learn to put very much of your effort or “sweat” as the axiom goes, into the smallest of things. We must be ever on the ready to help the Ukrainians keep things in their proper perspective. All these noble thoughts of freeing the country of our influence make the humans passionate. Passions in their nascent form are grotesque to be certain. But never overlook the beautiful potential of a passion properly guided, indulged and best of all, over-indulged. Also never forget, this brand of passion becomes almost indiscernible from patriotism. You’ve seen how simple it is for us to help our patients overlook the Enemy’s principal commandments when we have them in a state of patriotism. It’s practically boring.

You know Wormwood, I took the liberty of visiting the square this weekend. You will be elated to know that opportunities abound for us, even as our foes exult. The Maidan protest affords us throngs of humanity confined in close proximity. That type of environment is always well-suited to our purposes. While watching one of your stooges busting up the offices, I appealed in short order to one man on the simple suggestion that breaking glass was a ‘tough’ thing to do. Remember, it’s almost always matter-over-mind with the bipeds. Then, with minimal effort I convinced a babushka that the glass breakers were Russians. In actuality, I merely cast the thought, “Russians” into her pea-brain and she started going off on the vandals as well as anyone else who tried to reason with her. “Russians”. Can you imagine anything so simple? For all of Poo-stains deft maneuverings, it’s not as though a person living to the east of the border is any better suited for our purposes than one from the west.

The dank stench of opportunity is in the Ukrainian air Wormwood. Seize the night.

Your affectionate Uncle,