Halloween
Superman t-shirt.
Open white long sleeved shirt over the top.
Tie.
Swept over hair.
Thick black framed glasses.
Reporter's pen and notebook.
Plastic tube over ear to mouth taped on with micropore.
Wheelchair.

Christopher Reeve.
(MattWPBS, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 11:09, 2 replies)

I'd sell my soul not to have this flu bug right now.
*whimpers*
( girlinthehole, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 11:04, 21 replies)

Some B3tan or other mentioned it...
And I can't help but carry it on...

I sign the bible whenever I'm in a hotel.

"All the best, Jesus"

My mates all do it too now...can't wait for the day when I pick up one that's signed already...

Other than that, I'm too nice to goto hell.
( snee held his breath since, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:50, 4 replies)

The Omen
One day I was walking through my village churchyard and just out of interest I tried to open the church door. As soon as I touched the door handle I recieved a painful static electric shock and there was an audible crack. I walked off chanting "RECTUS...DOMINUS...CHEESYPUFFS"
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:45, 2 replies)

Church swearage
One reason or another, I went to a meeting in a local happy-clappy church in the skanky end of town last night.

As we sat around quaffing tea, proceedings were brought to a halt by the local oafs hanging round the car park, necking cheap lager and being generally offensive to the alleged "Jesus freaks" inside.

What they didn't expect was my striding to the front door, flinging it open and yelling "Fuck off, you festering cunts" at them at the top of my voice.

They fucked off.

Jesus freaks we are not.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:44, 5 replies)

WE'RE ALL GOING TO HELL!
Having given this some thought, the concept of heaven and hell is essentially a religious one. i.e. that there is an afterlife, an almighty deity etc etc.

SO, I believe that most religions make a point of noting that false gods or other religions, or just non believers are all wrongful sinners.

This must mean that taking ANY one religion then anyone outside that religion is going to hell. If we accept that nobody can say which religion is the one true one (if any) this would mean all religions would carry and sort of equal weight and therefore every religion condemns the others to an afterlife of toasty torture.

In essence no matter what your religion or behaviour you're going to hell because another religion says so.

I suppose the amusement here is that when your typical religious nutter decides to blow themselves up in the name of religion and the promise of something in the afterlife they're in theory actually going to hell because every other religion on the planet says they were wrong to believe in their religion in the first place.

So if we're all going to hell we may as well have fun now eh?
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:40, 2 replies)

My 20th birthday
I had a bit of a march on. I was late for my own birthday celebrations. I arrived at what was then our regular haunt, made quick small talk with the bouncers then headed straight for the bar.

“Pint of strongbow and a shot of tequila please”

I necked the tequila, savouring the sweet taste, before moving on to find my friends. As soon as I’d located them I received an ear bashing for being half an hour late although personally I didn’t see what the big deal was. After that had calmed down usual drinking activities ensued. Usual except for one ever so minor detail: I repeated the tequila/Strongbow combo 6 times….in 2 hours.

At this point I felt fine, I was still as sober as the moment I walked in the door, I was a drinking machine, RAWR! Off to the bar for my next round. Standing next to a friend I purchased my tequila/Strongbow, necked the tequila and turned to leave.

Before I managed to walk away he’d stopped me and made a proposition. If I downed my pint right there he’d buy me another shot of tequila. I’m still sober. Thinks I. I’ll do it! So down the pint goes, no trouble, and my friend turns to the barkeep to order a shot of tequila. Just as the barman turns to get said shot of tequila I feel a rumbling in my stomach. Seconds later, with no further warning, my guts explode in spectacular fashion all over myself and the bar. Sexy.

My friend swiftly changed his order from tequila to water and I stepped outside to go chat with friends thinking nothing more of the incident at the bar. Shortly after this the bar manager appeared. “Captain V are you feeling ok?” “Yesh I’m feelin’ fine!” “I think I’m going to have to ask you to leave” “Oh…Ok”.

I promptly turned, hugged a friend and in doing so transferred vomit from my person to hers, then left.

It was half ten.

On the way home I was refused a taxi then got stuck in a bush for some time before finally stripping off at my front door and walking through my house, naked, to go to bed.

Satan rewards my behaviour well though – I had no hangover in the morning.
( Captain V, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:37, 9 replies)

Humiliated Teacher / Communion Wine
Hell-Bound: Reason #1: While at Secondary School (boys only – no preteen schoolgirls in this story, I’m afraid), our class was made up almost exclusively of useless, scheming fuckwits; we used to regularly reduce our poor teachers to gibbering misery, such was the misdirected vitriol of our classroom-based antics.

The worst this ever got was when a French student-teacher was working with us for a few months during the second year of our GCSEs. We treated her abominably – quite possibly because she was quite pretty and we got a bizarre, quasi-sexual schoolboy thrill out of regularly torturing her.

On one occasion, we were in class, laughing, shouting and generally behaving like depraved idiots, while she shouted at us to be quiet and waved her hands in the air. Suddenly, she stopped shouting – her face paling visibly and her hands rushing down to cup her crotch…

She was peeing herself, uncontrollably, right in front of us. As the news spread around the class, we were all still and silent, watching with a mixture of horror and guilt as the poor, pretty French girl wet her pants in front of 30 gape-mouthed boys. The moment seemed to last forever, but looking back it was probably a matter of seconds before she stood and half-ran / half-waddled out of the classroom, a trickle of urine leaving a thin, glistening trail as she left…

Hell-Bound: Reason #1: When I was a child of no more than 8 or 9, I used to attend our local Presbyterian Church on a Sunday with my family. On the Sundays when the congregation celebrated communion, I used to sneak into the room behind the main church hall after the service was over and quaff the remaining communion wine (non-alcoholic – fortunately) from all the little shot-glasses.

Occasionally, I’d eat the remains of the bread too, as a sort of debauched appetiser. To this day, I’ve harboured the repressed-guilt from this semi-sacrilegious act…

[ EDIT: Errr... "pop"? ]
(Brett Starbuck, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:24, 4 replies)

Express elevator to hell, going down!
Me and my brother have made sure one of us is heading to the firey place, by covering all bases.

Representing a real religion, my brother: we both went to a Catholic primary school (as is only right). As a result, we had to go to church, a lot. Not just the major religious holidays, but pretty much every saint's day as well (for the heathens reading, EVERY day is a saint's day). My brother really didn't like this. It was cold, boring and the seats are uncomfortable. So one autumn day, he decides to take action - he gets some dried leaves, stacks them up on a kneeler and uses a candle to set fire to the whole lot. My mum put it out with holy water before it spread though.

Covering the rest of the heathens, me: I got sent to a proddy secondary school. I was the only Catholic in the year, the Jewish, Hindu and Muslim lads got excused from R.E. I didn't. As a result, me and the Rev used to bang heads on a regular basis. This is where I get the "heathen" thing I keep saying, he actually called me a "fucking heathen" the first time I was in one of his classes. Great days.

Anyway, the Rev also doubled as a games teacher. Being a posh school, we played rugby. Occasionally, the Rev would join in (mostly as a way of being able to touch young boys - it's not just a Catholic thing, you know?). On this occasion, a maul had developed, with the Rev at the middle of it. I seized my chance to gain revenge for a couple of years of sectarian insults - I aimed a full-on, beind-it-like-Beckham kick at his face, thinking my 13 year old foot wouldn't do much harm. While the Rev was in hospital, having a metal plate inserted into his shattered cheek, I claimed I was aiming for the ball. They believed me too.
(ScousersPet, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:17, 1 reply)

Hell Isn't good
I'm already in hell. I can tell you its no hotel!

I threw rocks at birds,
didn't goto church and stared at boobs all day.

It aint disneyland - its hell.

A chubby friend of mine bet I couldn't light a fart on fire - it backfired when I was engulfed in flame and a guy in a gritter lorry put me out!

Then that stupid doctor from ER replaced my heart with a baked potato.

I was so close to those boobs as well..
(ldwater otherwise known as a 'jive turkey', Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:13, 3 replies)

*Prepares to burn embassy*
As some of you know, I visited Iran a few years ago. I spent a fair bit of the trip marvelling at Mosques and shrines - Shi'ites like their shrines - some of which were stunning.

In Shiraz, there was one shrine in particular that took my breath away. From the outside, it was pretty, but not the most impressive. Inside, though, every single available surface had been covered in mirrored tiles. It was completely amazing.
"Jesus Christ..." I whispered to myself as I looked around.
My guide looked at me. "Not quite," she giggled.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 10:10, 4 replies)

Jehova Jehova Jehova!
Another personal pearoast citing Mr FoxyBadger McAwesomeness Sr. (alas, dearest Grandad) has been stirred from the bottom of my soul after reading some stories here about the treatment of fundamentalist extrovert religious types keen to promote the knowledge and eternal sanctuary of their infallable gospel.

I refer to them as simple-minded peons.

Mr FoxyBadger McAwesomeness Sr. spent his Autumn years in a rather poor area situated near a large influx of Jehova's Witnesses. As a result, every other week or so when your young author and his family were down, two clean-shaven gents would turn up to intimidate the dear heathen into joining their ridiculous sect group. At first, the typical response of door slamming was adopted, but after a while Grandad's mind realised there was some sort of sport to be made.

Lo and behold, the wager was on with the drinking buddies to see who could stall/scare them the longest. For the sake of bragging, Mr FoxyBadger McAwesomeness Sr. took the gold with a hell-worthy example:

Grandad invites them door-to-door God salesmen in for a cup of tea. Engage in much religious debate and shows of a keen pseudo-interest in conversion as his current faith doesn't give enough satisfaction. After a good 45 minutes or so of pretending to give a toss what they think, at which point the peons are comfortable with their environment, your 8 month old author starts crying in the next room for whatever reason.

'Excuse me for a moment lads,' cites Grandad as he removes himself from the conversation.

10 minutes go by. Grandad hasn't returned.

20 minutes go by. Grandad hasn't returned.

By this point, peons are beginning to wonder what the hell is going on exactly and whether they should investigate, at which point Grandad bursts into the room wearing only a chef's apron brandishing a cleaver, both covered in blood.

'Sorry about that lads. As I was saying, Satanism doesn't give me the satisfaction I need as sacrifices are so hard to come by. Now, where do I sign?'

I think there may have been some loss of bowel control from persons other than myself in that house that day.

Out of pure respect for the man, I now adopt this policy myself. My record is about 30 minutes before I start talking in tongues claiming to be the desolate one. Bless, I was 12 at the time.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Fri 12 Dec 2008, 9:50, 1 reply)

Oops, shouldn't have posted this then :p
www.b3ta.com/board/9017462
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 9:38, 8 replies)

The Game
This is a story I’ve been considering posting for the last three weeks now.

Why am I going to hell? Neil Strauss is why.

I am (un?)fortunate enough to live near to an art college, this means that on Friday and Saturday nights my local bar is full of impressionable naive young art students.

Neil Strauss wrote a book called The Game which while supposedly autobiographical it’s basically a how to guide for manipulating women into bed. While I’ve never felt entirely comfortable with some of the techniques described I have on occasion used some of the practices in there to further my own nefarious ends.

As for why I’ve been thinking of posting this for a while, the last time I did this I woke up with a woman 2/3rd of my age so that would have fitted the Sugar Daddies question and as for the cringe factor is it wrong that I know which student halls building I’ve woken up in by the pattern of the ceiling tiles.

However I may avoid hell even yet, a few weeks ago I woke up in Bernard Myers house (Slightly off white with a swirl pattern about a foot square) with an 18 year old girl beside me I realized quite how wrong this all felt. Since then I’ve thrown out the book and am in the early stages of what could possibly be described as an actual relationship for the first time in quite a long time.
(bill, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 9:38, 2 replies)

If you no longer believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster...
... does that make you an apastate?
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 9:32, 8 replies)

I have a colleague
in the London office of my company who is without doubt one of the worst people I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.

She is devoid of any social skills, tact or humility. Her attitude towards people in general is frankly embarrassing; she looks down on everyone, belittles people for their ignorance (even though she is a fair few milk bottle tops short of a Blue Peter badge) and generally being a gigantic arse. She considers her job to be going to meet bands and going to industry parties whilst neglecting her real duties. She has a face like a smacked arse, with a gigantic hook nose, like a beak. She rubs other peoples faces in the fact she's doing all this by constantly updating her Facebook status saying "I'm going to meet so and so" or "I had such good fun backstage partying with Indiebandaufuckface".

Starting two years ago, I send a £5 pound note in a birthday card to her every year with the text "Here's some money toward the nosejob fund."

Totally petty, spiteful and arrogant. But she deserves it.
(Himjim died a little more inside on, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 9:15, 4 replies)

Not quite on topic, but riddle me this:
Lucifer gets kicked out of heaven for being a bit of a cad right?

so why would he spend his time punishing the people who don't do what god wants?

he wouldn't, that'd be stupid.

hell is going to be like a all-night party that remains at the good bit where things have just got a bit crazy and weird but everyone is still having a good time. for all eternity.

awesome
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 8:48, 11 replies)

I need a taxi to hell.....
While talking about god, the bible and stuff like that to my mother, I remarked to her about the bible, My words exactly was, "Sounds like a whole lot of bullshit."
The deadly look she gave me said it...

I'm going to hell

So click I like this to send me taxi fare, One way ;)
(Leoninus "Never lick a fresh turd on a hot day.", Fri 12 Dec 2008, 8:46, Reply)

MS Flight Sim
I must have crashed countless jumbo jets into the World Trade Centre towers, years before those other bastards did it.

Bloody copycats.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 8:45, 5 replies)

So we know what to expect when we get there. . .
HELL EXPLAINED BY CHEMISTRY STUDENT

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid term. The answer by one student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of
course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well :

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law
States that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.
(sodbiscuit sodbiscuit, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 8:43, 7 replies)

A repressed story from my childhood.....
I'd totally forgotten about this incident when I was younger. I never told anyone it, until now.....

I was 8 years old when it was the summer of 1990. It was bright, sunny and not a cloud in the sky. I figured it was too good to spend it indoors and decided to go out for a little while. I got dressed and went outside. I was walking down a road and saw a open manhole cover. I peered in and saw complete darkness. My instincts told me to carry on walking but my heart was telling me to go inside. I listened to my heart.

I climbed down the ladder and into the sewer. It smelt. It was cold, dank and uninviting. I was going through a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" phase and I remember thinking that the sewers aren't as glamorous as the ones in the TV show. Nevertheless, I carried on walking down the sewer. It was pretty much like it was in the movies. Dark, that slow dripping in the background and the eerie quietness. All you could hear was the gentle sloshing of my tiny feet in the effluent stream.

It was like a maze, I didn't know where I was. Then, I turned down a path and walked until I hit a brick wall. It was "dead end". I use inverted commas there, because I didn't realise how apt those words were going to be.

As I was facing the brick wall, in almost near darkness, a quietness descended over the sewer. You couldn't hear a thing. Then, I heard, over my shoulder, a faint breathing. It wasn't mine.....

I was terrified. I was facing a dead end with something breathing behind me in near-total darkness. I couldn't even turn to see what was making this noise. It smelt ungodly. Like a foul aroma. It smelt of death. I was trapped and frightened. How long had this person/thing been following me?

Eventually, I stopped quietly sobbing. When I regained my composure, I decided the best course of action was to calmly turn around, walk as close to the wall as possible, thereby avoiding whatever was doing the breathing and walk calmly back to the exit.

I turned, walked and didn't look back. The breathing got fainter. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be following me. I turned a few corners and breathed a sigh of relief. After I finished, I heard the breathing again, behind me. Only this time, it was more like gurgling, like it was getting agitated! I started to run.

I ran as quickly as I could, but no matter how fast I ran, the breathing/gurgling was never more than 2 feet behind me. It was almost as if, it COULD catch me, but wanted me to run anyway! Maybe for its own amusement? Whilst, I was running, I caught a glimspe of one of the sewer walls. There was just enough light to make out something on the wall. When I saw what it was, I nearly burst into tears again. For a brief moment, I saw a bloodstained, handprint on the wall!

I was starting to get tired and thought I was going to die in that sewer at the hands of some Godforsaken monster, when I saw bright sunlight. You see, I never replaced the manhole cover (possibly due to laziness, rather than a "Hansel and Gretel" style tracker system) so, with every kilojoule of energy I had left in body, I sprinted for the ladder to daylight.

I got to the ladder and clambered up it to the daylight. I climbed through the manhole cover and sat on the edge, with my legs dangling into the manhole. I'd made it. I looked down into the manhole, it was complete darkness....then a hand grabbed my leg! It was the monster!

Like the wall, there was enough light to see the monster's hand. It was covered in bandages....and blood! Was it HIS hand print on the wall? And was it his blood? Or someone else's.....?

He was trying to drag me back into the sewer, but I held onto the edge of the manhole trying to climb to safety. No matter how hard I tried, he kept pulling my leg. He was so strong! I was going to lose this battle. He kept pulling my leg! And pulling and pulling and pulling my leg.......


Which is exactly what I've been doing to you for the past 10 minutes!

THAT'S why I'm going to hell! Taxi.....!
(The Stig, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 8:27, 6 replies)

I'm not.
Because, just like Santa, it doesn't fucking exist.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Fri 12 Dec 2008, 7:05, 3 replies)

Once upon a time...
I said the N word while telling a joke to my boyfriend. Yes that's the worst I could conjure up.

Other than that, I'm an unwed single Mother of two who had loads of premarital sex, stopped going to church, told a Jehovah's Witness where she could stick her magazines, done things a Catholic school girl should never have had done and have possibly sent a few men insane.

Much fun was had. The end.
( Squishtastic is having bouts of insomnia.. beware b3ta, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 7:04, 2 replies)

If only
If only for the contents of my carrier bag of shopping that i unloaded from my car yesterday.

1 packet of marlbro lights
1 bottle of jim beam
1 wank mag

But at least im happy now.
(welgar, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 6:18, 5 replies)

Is It Just Me
.
but, ever since seeing that Dave Allen sketch as kid, I can't keep a straight face at burials.

As soon as the Vicar starts to talk at the graveside it's running through my head.

"In the name of the Father, The Son and into-the-hole-he-goes...."


I'm doomed I tell you, doomed....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 6:16, 4 replies)

This always cracks me up
One of my good school friends was once tasked with producing a poster in RE class which conveyed the message of Christianity.

His work featured the phrase "I was hungry and you fed me" writ large upon a piece of A2 paper made from newspaper and magazine cuttings featuring cut-up images of African villagers stirring heads in pots, random geeky missionaries and chopped up, ransom letter-style text.

Probably the most effort anyone ever put into an RE project. Upon receipt of the magnificent artwork, the witch-faced, sexless harridan of a teacher rolled it up and deposited it squarely in the bin, all in stony silence.

The same RE teacher made me write 200 lines the following week for submitting my heroic tale of Jesus fighting a bear.
( chart cat has an itch, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 5:56, 8 replies)

Spwnd!!!
I have been to church twice in my entire life. Both times I was christening one of my spawn.

Both times, the Godfather and I were the only non-Catholics in the party and being thoroughly ignorant of all these curious little magic spells and rituals managed to doom ourselves to Eternal Damnation through our unwitting blasphemy.

At one stage in the proceedings, Godfather was asked to light a candle from one of the tall thin highly decorated jobbies in front of the altar. Instead, he managed to put it out.

The gasp of barely suppressed horror from the congregation was class. He further compounded his heresy by calmly PICKING UP the ALTAR CANDLE, lighting the mighty bugger and the original baptismal thingy as originally instructed.

He should have lit a joint off it just to confirm his ring side seat in Hell.

And later, when I pointed this out to him, he threatened to put a horse's head in my bed.

Ace.
(Que?, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 4:58, 1 reply)

I'm Ashamed Of This
.
There's no excuse. It was intellectual bullying, pure and simple.

In the early 80's I was on a piss-up in the God-Forsaken town of Hexham, Northumberland. There were about 20 of us in my crowd and we were drinking our way across town having fun and being loud.

So there I was. Standing at the bar when the door opened and a little old man came in, dressed in his Sally Army uniform and flogging copies of the Warcry. So the Devil whispered in my ear and I confronted him.

I asked him about his belief in God, what he believed and why he believed it. The I tore his simple,humble arguments to shreds and gave him an alternative, possibly more realistic, view of what happened during the birth of Christ.

He was a Alien. All the evidence pointed to it.

Virgin Birth? - A spaceman in his luminous white suit artificially inseminated Mary.

The Star that appeared over Bethlehem when Jesus was born? - A spacecraft hovering overhead to keep and eye on the birth.

The Three Wise Men? - Aliens come to check up on Jesus.

There were a few more and I really got to the old man. When I finished my drink and left the pub he was crying and shouting after me:

"Jesus isn't an alien!! He isn't...."

Good one Legless. Destroy an old man's lifetime of faith just to show how clever you are.

Ticket to Hull please.....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 4:42, 10 replies)

Poor old dear
A few days ago on my way into work at a supermarket I saw an old lady slip over, lots of people went to help her, I didn't. I didn't want to be late for work so I carried on walking. I should have helped her seeing as it was in the doorway of my store and I was in my uniform, I know I should have got a first aider but I just thought to myself its ok shes conscious. I got some funny looks, ovbiously I wasn't the only one who thought it was my job to help. I felt awful for the rest of the day. I've probably done more things that'll get me in to hell but thats the most recent so Im still feeling the most guilty about it.
(laurasuper, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 3:45, Reply)

Evangelical Christians:
You know the sort I'm talking about. The sort who won't leave you alone - the sort who accost you on your doorstep, on the bus, on the street, wherever. Most people wish that they would just fuck off and die. What most people don't realise is why they do it.

Think about it. They firmly believe that they are righteous, and will go to heaven (possibly with a brief stint in purgatory). I put the question to you - if you believed that, what would you do? Would you avoid people who didn't believe what you did? Would you condemn them out of hand? Would you simply sit at home and feel smug that you're not going to suffer for all eternity? Most probably you would.

These people don't. They want to help you. They truly, truly want to do all they can to save you from eternal suffering. It's not for their health that they go out in all weathers talking to everyone, facing the threat of violence and hatred for their beliefs. It's for you. They put up with a never-ending stream of hatred in the hope of saving a single soul.

So what I ask is: would you be strong enough to do that? Could you put up with the knowledge that doing what you believe to be right, with the best possible intentions, would make you almost universally hated and ignored? I don't think I could.



So why am I going to hell?

Because I don't just slam the door on them: I studied philosophy for two years. I was (and still am) very good at it. You work it out.

THEN I slam the door on them.
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 12 Dec 2008, 3:43, 2 replies)