There really is no place like DC in the springtime. The cherry blossoms come out and tourists flock into enjoy them. It’s a whole mess of congestion—both of sinuses and roads. What could be more delightful?

After six months on tour with ISIS, I was really looking forward to spending some time in DC. I keep a townhouse in Georgetown, not far from the Exorcist stairs, but unfortunately I haven’t spent much time there since my man Cheney left office. (Before you ask, no, it is not weird for an immortal demon to own a residence in Georgetown. It is a very sound investment. I am a proud and active member of the Citizens Association of Georgetown.)

Imagine then my distress when I learned that my peaceful neighborhood is about to get caught in the crosshairs of a Westboro Baptist Church protest and a Georgetown University counterprotest.

Listening to these groups shout back and forth at each other will be bad enough. But you know what really grinds my gears? Each side is going to drag my good name through the mud by accusing the other of working on my behalf. In fact, it might surprise you to learn that I have about as little to do with the Westboro Baptists’ bigotry as I do with homosexuality. So just to set the record straight, I want to ask that both parties kindly leave me out of this.

Westboro Baptists, for people who hate gay sex, you sure do act like you have something large stuck up your ass. And hey, look, I get it. You think sodomy is a mortal sin and that therefore I must have my hand in the whole gay agenda.

But, newsflash! If two homosexual people love each other, I don’t have anything to do with that. I’m the goddamn Prince of Darkness for crying out loud! I keep away from love, friendship, and all that otherwarm and fuzzy stuff. My job is to split people up, not help them find one another (except Kimye—that was me).

Contrary to your entire theology, being gay does not earn you a one-way ticket to Hell. If that were the case, don’t you think we would at least have a better color scheme than red and black? Sure, we do have some gays down here, but they tend to be of the pedophilic scoutmaster variety. In fact, there is only one group of people that all go to Hell, and that would be the Westboro Baptists. Your founder, Fred Phelps, is down here right now. I have him in a boiling cauldron watching Milk on an endless loop. And not even for the gay stuff, but because I can’t think of a worse punishment than an eternity spent staring at Sean Penn.

Shifting gears now, I want to address the students of Georgetown University. Before you go making any accusations, let me be clear that I am no more behind the Westboro Baptists than I am behind the gays. These yahoos are B-listers at best. I only associate with the most detestable human beings. Adolf Hitler, Idi Amin, Christian Laettner. You get the picture.

“But, Satan,” you say, “surely you must be stirring up their hate-filled agenda.” You would certainly think so, wouldn’t you? Bigotry and ignorance are my jam. I was a consultant for the police department in Ferguson, Missouri for more than fifteen years. But in this case, you have fingered the wrong immortal.

Before you pin these Westboro nutjobs on me, let me ask you this: who was the guiding force behind Leviticus? Not me, that’s for sure. I’ll give you a hint: He’s omniscient, bearded, and has an unhealthy phobia of menstruating women.

Yes, if you are incensed at the Westboro Baptists’ interpretation of the Bible as the literal Word of God, blame the Almighty for not picking better Holy Ghostwriters. The Bible is just a collection of ancient texts containing certain elements of revelation. Yet simply because something is divinely-inspired does not mean that it does not contain errors. Take, for example, The Police’s classic 1983 album, Synchronicity. Those tracks are like hearing the very voice of God. But give one listen to Andy Summers’ vocals in “Mother” and you realize: mistakes were made.

Jesus Christ (who I’m pretty sure never protested a soldier’s funeral) is the true, unadulterated Word of God. But I can see how that would be easy to miss when you have someone like St. John writing such gobbledygook as, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Say what? You would think the Big Man Upstairs would want to make his Good News intelligible to people without a master’s in Gnostic studies. Personally, I like to think that I do a better job of selecting ghostwriters who make my message accessible to the lowest common denominator. Even Paul Ryan was able to understand Atlas Shrugged.

So then, what have we learned today? Westboro Baptists: homosexuality is not the work of the Devil. If it were, I would be enjoying the company of Oscar Wilde and Liberace right now instead of your church’s idiot founder. Liberal Christians at Georgetown: the Westboro Baptists are a product not of my design, but of scriptural misinterpretation. Honestly, I’m surprised the Jesuits let them persist in their heresy. If we were in Counterreformation times, the Jesuits would bring down a full-blown inquisition on the Westboro Baptists. Sometimes I feel like my nemeses lost a part of themselves after Clement XIV suppressed them…

Anyway, try to keep the noise from your protesting to a minimum. I will be hosting a garden party for Jenny McCarthy and some anti-vaxxer friends, and I don’t want to be disturbed.

Satan is the Father of Lies and Author of Sin. His syndicated marketing column, “Devil’s in the Retail,” appears in Forbes.