I’ve written – quite critically – about people who claim to have seen Heaven. Well, lo, now I’ve had my own visit. And it IS real!
I won’t bore you with medical details, I’m fine now. But, in brief, I did go through the standard experience with the tunnel, bright light, and numinous beings beckoning. Next thing I know, there’s the guy with the big ledger book. Just like in all those New Yorker cartoons.
So I hand up my driver’s license, and he checks off my name. “Okay, Frank Steven Robinson,” he says, “Welcome to Heaven. Go right in.” No search, no full body scan, nothing; hadn’t these guys ever heard of, like, security?
But meantime I smelled a rat because my Christian friends had always assured me that, as a non-believer, I was bound for the other place. And Saint Pete must have noticed my skeptical look, because he added, with a wave of his hand, “Oh, you’re fine. The Lord is a forgiving God.”
You wouldn’t know it from reading the Bible, I wanted to say; it still seemed fishy, but I shrugged and proceeded inside. And it was like that car ad guy says – huuuge. A zillion people, all in white robes with wings, all of whom I could see simultaneously in some trick of vision. Even weirder, despite the robes, most were somehow at the same time naked, and in the throes of all kinds of enthusiastic sex. A huuuge orgy in fact. I guess once you’re admitted to Heaven, “sin” ceases to be an issue. Now that’s what I call safe sex. With Heaven really being (as the expression goes) to die for.
Then I noticed one fellow I couldn’t fail to recognize, even without his customary uniform.
“Hitler?” I exclaimed. “Hitler is here?”
An angel nearby heard me and explained, “Son, the Lord is a forgiving God.”
Just then, a stooped, bearded old man with a hooked nose shambled by, obviously Jewish. Hitler kicked him, hard, in the nuts (he wore jackboots under his robe) and when the old guy folded in agony, Hitler went on to kick him senseless. Then he danced a little jig (just like at the French surrender).
The angel saw my consternation increasing. “In Heaven, of course, everybody gets their heart’s desire. Hitler loves kicking Jews.”
I had to ask: “Does the old man love getting kicked?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” my angel friend whispered, with a conspiratorial chuckle, “he’s just a hologram. But don’t tell Adolf, it would spoil his fun.”
“So,” I blurted, “Heaven is built on lies?”
“Well, duh,” the angel answered, grinning sardonically.
“One more question,” I ventured. “Does anybody go to Hell?”
I didn’t get a chance to ask whether that applies to blogs, because that’s when I suddenly woke up. But I am figuring that a blog post won’t count.