"When you wish you're dead, that's when I'll come inside."

Facebook wants to see my ID.

It seems the social media giant has a rule where you have to use your real name, which has confused me since I started my account there because I typed in S-A-T-A-N just like it's spelled in the Judeo-Christian tradition and it fired back that I can't use that name, my name.

This was bound to not end well.

I used the Muslim spelling.

It's a confusing question for me anyway: what is my name? I am known by many names. Zoroastrians call me Angra Mainyu. Buddhists know me as Mara. In a former incarnation my name was Lucifer. If you're up to speed on your demonology you can debate whether it's appropriate to call me Asmodeus, Azazel, Beelzebub, Belial, Mastima or Lilith. Nicknames include The Evil One, The Father of Lies,  Lord of the Underworld, Mephistopheles, Old Scratch, The Prince of Darkness, The Red Guy. On a busy Saturday night, I get about a dozen misguided adolescents who try to call me Dad.

I tell them a joke I stole from Jim Rose: "I can't be your dad. I didn't have change for a five that night."

My list is hardly complete, but my point is that some soppy-pants mouth-breather reported that I haven't been using my real name. How can I? Facebook won't let me use it.

Now Facebook wants to see my ID. Do I look like a guy who has a lot of time to hang around at the BMV all day waiting for some unimaginative bovine to take my picture and try to sell me on being an organ donor?
I take organs, bitch! I don't give them. I don't need a license. It's not like I drive, anyway. What would be the point? Wherever I want to go, I just appear in an explosion of sulfur.

Who would take the time to turn me in? I'll never know, and I can only guess at why. Maybe they don't think big, silly men in rubber masks should go around telling people about what horror movies they like. Maybe they're hyper-Christian. Maybe they had something to do with the making of Thankskilling.

It really doesn't matter.

Did you know there are special exceptions to Facebook's insistence on using your real name?

If you've been abused, bullied, stalked, et cetera, you can use a fake name. As someone who was kicked out of the house in his rebellious youth, and has been hunted by religious nuts for centuries, I'm sure I kind of fall into one of these categories.

If you're a member of an ethnic minority, you can use a fake name. Hey, I'm red, and not just the Indian or Native-American variation on the kind of beige all humans are. I'm candy-apple red, and I have horns. You don't see my kind walking around every day.

If you're LGBTQBBQ and so on and so on, you can use a fake name. I'm all those things and a half dozen other variations human sexuality hasn't even discovered yet. You get a little freaky when you can manifest yourself as either an incubus or a succubus according to your whim.

I could claim any or all of their exceptions, but they're still going to want ID.

I plead nolo contendere. This might be goodbye to all my Facebook followers, but it doesn't have to be. I started a fan page. You can still follow me under my simpler namesake The Devil Himself at facebook.com/bigrednsexy. It says I'm fictitious, because the greatest trick I've ever pulled was convincing humanity I don't exist.

Thanks.

It's been fun.

By the way, this week's Thursday Thriller is Hush.

Director Mike Flanagan co-wrote this 2016 film with star Kate Siegel, who plays a writer who is deaf and can't hear stuff like a masked weirdo killing her neighbor just outside her glass door.

On a scale of horrible to outstanding, it falls somewhere between not bad and pretty good. Hush streams on Netflix.

You only have two more weekends to check out the Devil's Attic in Louisville. Mention Hush at the ticket booth and get $2 off admission.