Straight to Hell 🔥
If the portal opens…
Normalize entering a portal to hell instead of giving mediocre men attention.
Here is the image that this comic is based on:
This is actually a depiction of Orpheus and Eurydice, illustrated by our fave Christine de Pizan. (If you don’t remember or don’t know who Pizan is, go back and read this post where I talk all about Christine and her medieval style of feminism). If you don’t remember, Orpheus was a legendary poet and songwriter whose true love Eurydice died ON THEIR WEDDING DAY when she was bit by a poisonous viper. Orpheus was so overcome with grief that he sat down and composed a song on the spot. The gods were so moved by his music that they let him travel to the underworld to bring her back… on the ONE CONDITION that he not turn around and look behind him until the two of them returned fully to the overworld.
You can see, as Christine de Pizan illustrated, he was not so good at following the ONE SINGLE RULE. He turned around and looked at Eurydice immediately. Like, they had barely a foot out of the underworld and he just turned right back around, which caused Eurydice to disappear forever.
So the next time you think about placing your fate in the hands of some lackluster guy, think about Eurydice.
And definitely don’t see his minstrel band. No way in hell. 🔥
In other news, I recently discovered that the postbox where I deposited your postcards has been OUT OF SERVICE because of construction on the city block where the postbox is (not in front of it, but nearby??) so I apologize if you haven’t received your postcards yet?? I am really so sad about this. Hopefully they’ll come to you soon. Let me know if/when you get them! I’d love to see pics of these out in the wild.
As always, feel free to drop me a line in the comments.
yours eternally,
🔥Becca Lee, the Haunted Librarian 🔥
Your postcard story reminds me of a long ago time when I was applying for jobs and just out of college. I lived with my boyfriend in Nashville, TN. He was getting his PhD but I was largely effacing myself. I kept dropping my applications and resumes in this one postbox on my street. It was 1986. I heard nothing for weeks. Looking for a job through snail mail was miserable. One day the post lady and I bumped into each other as she was going to pick up the mail. She opened the box and yelped when literally hundreds and hundreds of letters came cascading out. “Woo Eee!” she exclaimed, “I guess this hasn’t been picked up in a month!”