Last Sunday, as most of you know, the Oscar winning actor Philip Seymour Hoffman died of a heroin overdose. Strewn about the millionaire’s abode were sixty bags of un-used smack along with five empty/used bags of the “Ace of Spades”. According to the reports, those who discovered the dead thespian said he was found deceased with a needle in his arm. Not a pretty picture.
Later that same night, as the news channels began to report on Hoffman’s death, the various talking heads began to wax eloquently about how he was a great actor, a normal guy, who rode his bike around the neighborhood, loved his children and was an all-around good dude who was now “resting in peace.”
This left me thinking, “What the hell ever happened to hell?”
Did it get shut down?
Did I miss a Facebook alert about its closing?
Did it get defunded like ACORN?
Did Obamanomics also accelerate its demise?
I wonder this because I don’t hear much about the netherworld or the Prince of Darkness anymore and it appears as if, at least according to E! News, you can believe and do whatever the heck you want nowadays and upon your seedy expiration – boom! – you’re in heaven playing a harp, walking around in a white peignoir, sitting on a cloud, eatin’ ice cream with Jesus.
As a former self-destructive, narcissistic drug addict, my carnal man wishes it had that option available thirty-plus years ago, back when I was a hellion, because I never would’ve repented and started following Christ’s lead. Because, you know, he can be a real cosmic killjoy to the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life; and what druggie doesn’t want to have his coke and snort it, too?
Just think about it. What a wonderfully convenient and fleshily appealing notion. Heaven without desisting from or believing anything!
Check it out, according to the glitterati …
- I can go to heaven without faith in Christ’s sacrifice
- With zero desire to follow God’s edicts
- I can screw everything that’ll hold still
- Shoot heroin
- Snort coke
- Fuel the nasty, despicable, murderous drug trade with my money
- Utterly wreck my parents', spouse's and kids' lives pretty much forever
And when I die during an O.D. of frickin’ heroin, when I come to, I will be rocking up instantly to the same place Mother Theresa calls home. Yahtzee! What a deal. Shoot, that’s better than the Toyota Sale-A-Thon.
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