Dear Luce: I take a risk by communicating directly with, you, “the devil”. You wonder: “Can I gain the Deacon’s allegiance?” No, Luce, I’m not that stupid. Granted, you are immensely more intelligent that me, you cannot read my thoughts, Luce. You work with the statistical odds and get humans to believe you are omniscient. You are not. You cannot “incarnate” into this realm though you would like us to believe this as though you are equal to the God-Man from Nazareth. You feign the “victim” very well. As “spirit” you do not know what bodily “feelings” really are. I, on the other hand, am both flesh and spirit. You invented “scapegoat-ery,” giving reason, basis, and justification for your proffered illusion of self-misery. Instead, you are like a black sunspot. You explode into electromagnetic havoc and chaos but “feel” nothing. You convince miserable “underlings” to join your ranks so they might fall off the edge of the fake “flat-edge” world you paint.