Non Sequitur by Wiley Miller for July 24, 2017

I’m atheist, but I gotta say, that’s a heaven worth dying for.

The sauna must be in Hell.

Humans can conjure up all kinds of fantastic places be it Oz or Arrakis or Heaven or Sheol.

100 years of that gets boring. imagine 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 times infinity of that.

Well, Darth, the answer is to request (or be given) a memory reset every so often… (Groundhog Day … forever)

The real question is: At the top of the million mile high roller coaster, just as you start the plunge, are you still going to think, “I’m gonna die!” given that you are already dead…

Anything would get a bit boring after an eternity, but this looks like fun.

Finally, something I can believe in!

How about “heaven on earth?”

I hear the voice of Sam Kinnison ragging on Dildo and Tammy Faye Baker claiming God told them to build an amusement park. Guess they were right after all.

Hell being stuck in the ticket line…?

I can have everything I want? Yes, you are in hell.

As a good little Catholic girl, I was taught that we don’t become angels when we die. Angels were God’s special (what-ever), and they were all male. (At least the arch-angels were.) Now as a rational adult… doctrine, really!? All those man-made rules and regulations… Anyway… My afterlife would be a chaise lounge in a library with no due-dates. :)

Another imagining of a totally non-existent “Place”.

Looks like the way business is handled every day in D.C.

fantasy is all their is if you are a republican

“Captain Stormfield” was never like this………

Sure beats how Mark Twain described it in “Letters from the Earth”.

Works for me also, as long as all the kitties and doggies I have known are also there.

After reading the three volume set sbout Hell, Purgatory and Heaven by Dante, I have settled on the first circle of Hell as being the most desirable place to end up. The rest of Hell is simply infinite crueltyand infinite sadism, and the other places would have one standing around singing hymns – infinite boredom and infinite repetition.

I remember a Ray Bradbury short story that involved Hell turning out to be a playground – the sort in a rough part of town where you got shoved and beaten and kicked around by shrieking, psychotic children for eternity.

Sure beat streets paved with gold and many mansions. No thank you.

Faith is not bothering with conjecture, but confidence that God’s plan is beyond all expectation.