Uniting my interests in nineties alt-rock and food, last night a friend and I got to pondering “Lake of Fire” (originally by the Meat Puppets, but most famously performed by Nirvana):
Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don’t go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry
Don’t see ‘em again ’till the Fourth of July
It’s hard to imagine frying in a lake of fire. It depending on exactly where you’re positioned vis-a-vis the lake, you might roast (if you’re imagining a concave lake-bed of flames) inside the lake or grill (if you’re imagining a flat lake surface of flames) atop the lake, but to fry you’d need to be in a lake of hot oil.
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