My dear Wormwood,

The lamentations and regrets in your last letter are quite overdone.  One detects a false note.  Could it be that your protestations of regret that you have not been able to arrange a sexual liaison for your patient savor more of the failed tempter seeking to have his failure excused than of any genuine regret?  Surely not.  Even one as callow and ignorant as you must know that the in the admirable realism of Hell, we do not accept excuses nor offer pardons.  Second chances are a blasphemous invention of the Enemy’s.  Nor is it possible that you could think that you could deceive me, even for an instant.  I know and relish the subtle variety of every species of lie, every kind of regret.

No, as an affectionate uncle I must make fond allowances for you within reason.  It is more likely that under my tutelage you are beginning to catch a glimmer of the truth.  Your patient’s enforced celibacy is to our advantage and part of the grand strategy formed by the terrible ones in the depths of Hell’s hierarchy.

Put yourself under my guidance and learn from me.  You can trust me to guide you well.

Yes, the Sexual Revolution was a coup de main and utterly necessary at the time.  You are quite right that sexual sin is a powerful draw away from the Enemy’s sickening plans for married happiness.  But what you do not quite grasp is that sex itself is of the Enemy.  Why would he even have invented the disgusting thing?  The gross materiality of the bodies, the pleasure of it, the mutual need–nothing good can be said of it.  We can only tempt them to use the tool unwisely, but it is still a tool of the Enemy’s.  Birth control, sodomy, and promiscuity succeeded wildly, but only partially corrected the Enemy’s tool.

In response, the strategic thinkers of Hell, subjected to every more exquisite torments and exacting demands, produced a masterstroke, as was only to be expected.  Need I hint that a timely suggestion or two from me to an ally below may have made a signal contribution?  Yes, Wormwood, your uncle sits well with the truly powerful.  But I digress.  The masterstroke, for which I do not claim anything like full credit, I like to call the sexless revolution.  More and more sexual rebellion and less and less sex, that was the formula!  Gibber and gape at its brilliance!  In your patient’s America today, sexually-transmitted disease rates have reached an all time high according to their CDC, while birth rates are at an all time low.  Oh, it is delicious.  But mark well the final subtle masterstroke–the actual amounts of sex are also lower than they have been in decades!  Under our tutelage, more and more of those cattle are mutilating their sex organs in the name of sexual revolution.  Oh, Wormwood, to think that they are risking never being able to take physical pleasure in sex again for the sake of so-called sexual liberation!  To think that they have apps whose rationale is licentious mating, where they do nothing but dully swipe left!  How lucky we are!

How lucky you are to be under my guidance and care.  Take it from me, you should make every effort to tantalize your patient with the thought of promiscuous, sinful varieties of sex but make sure to see that he never gets any.  The resultant state of perpetual wicked frustration offers so many opportunities for us.  The disease-racked, celibate libertine–that is what really gladdens Our Father’s heart.

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