Portable Merchandise Booth, Foot of Stairway to Heaven
Dear Sirs,
I find Myself conflicted. I can’t decide whether to be wrathful or not, or, if so, how wrathful to be. When I started getting flooded with postcards asking for reservation confirmations I was, at first, confused – but then just about as wrathful as I was that time I sent Jeremiah around with a goblet full of wrath for all the nations I didn’t like to take a big ol’ gulp from. “Jeremiah”, I said, “Take from My hand this cup filled with the wine of My wrath unto all the nations who piss Me off – and make the bitches drink.”
You, sirs, came this close to getting a Super Big Gulp cup full to the brim with Divine Whoop-Ass.
But then I thought, “Hey… these frickin’ guys must be making pots of cash off this deal.” At which point you again came very, very close to “Having a drink with Jeremiah”. But My Divine Nature reasserted itself just in the nick of time and it occurred to Me that your operation could very well be a force for good.
By “force for good”, of course, I mean “few extra spondoolicks in My pocket”.
So, unless you want to have that “drink with Jeremiah” in the form of My solicitors, (Fire, Brimstome & Wrath, LLC), with the biggest, fattest lawsuit you could possibly imagine, I propose a little business deal. Gawd, Inc. hereby tenders an offer for 51% of your company stock in exchange for one Widow’s Mite and your continued habitation of this plane of existence.
All in favor? Aye.
All opposed? … Anyone? I thought not. The ayes have it.
Now, as your new majority shareholder, I think a few minor changes are in order. First, your disclaimer needs to tone down on the “we in no way can guarantee entry into Heaven” stuff. Obviously, it needs to be in there – I’m no liar* and I’m sure as Hell not letting anyone onto My property – but it doesn’t have to be so obtrusive. Let the poor SOB’s dream a little.
Second, I don’t know where you got your price points from, but they’re all out of whack. $12.95 for the basic package? Get real. I don’t get out of bed for less than $1,000… and then I may not even bother to put on a bathrobe. What you need to do is make it 12 Easy Payments of $95. That way, the customer is certain they’re getting something valuable and I’m certain I can pay My bar tab.
Also, your website needs testimonials. The only people who have ever been to Heaven are Me, My boys and assorted Cherubim and Seraphim who do the gardening… oh, and the ex-wife. (But forget about her; there’s no telling what kind of unhelpful crap that bitch would say.) So start with this one – (ahem):
“The rooms are spacious and well-appointed, the service is first-rate and it’s convenient to the shops in the Orion Nebula. I give it five halos!”
~An influential and well-known deity
It’s been good doing business with you and remember, as the new effective head of Reserve &tc., My door is always open.**
Wish You Were Here,
~Gawd
*For a given definition of “liar”.
**Presuming you don’t try to enter it or speak to Me through it.
"Gone Fishin': Postcards From God" 
I don’t get out of bed for less than $1,000… and then I may not even bother to put on a bathrobe.
Eww! I hope Gawd has aged well, otherwise the sight of a very old, naked deity opening his door would be a terrifying experience for the room service folks. Especially since, rumor has it, he’s a lousy tipper.
I’m sorry to say, Chap, that no; He has not aged well. Somewhat flabby and liverspotted. And, yes; He is a lousy tipper.
“The only people who have ever been to Heaven are Me, My boys and assorted Cherubim and Seraphim” who still aren’t being paid. C’mon, Gawd. Even Republican scare-mongers pay their illegal aliens to do the gardening! I think it’s time for Gawd’s cherubim and seraphim to ask the NLRB to sanction a union election.
And as for your bar tab: damn Scotch is expensive, innit? One would assume that a country known for thrift would have a cheap national drink, but no.
(((Billy))),
I passed your “suggestion” along… again. And yea, Gawd said, “He’s persistent, isn’t he? The little agitating SOB had better watch out what he asks for. Tell him about that preacher in Ohio and hint that I had something to do with it. That’s one of My favorites and it ought to shut him up.”
So, there was this preacher…
See, if Gawd actually paid, that preacher would have gotten a sign from Gawd which would have fried him to a crisp. Lesson: if you treat the help poorly, you get poor results.
Gawd is proving once again how good at marketing He is. The suggestions are very good. I wonder why He forgot to suggest pictures of the underpaid angels that will escort us to heaven.
Better yet, I’d like to choose my angels by looks and sexual orientation. My trip to heaven would be, oh, so much more gratifying.
Well, as I understand it, Lorena, all the angels are lookers and the great majority are gay, so not much choice there.
And then there’s the fact that Gawd’s not about to let a bunch of riff-raff like us into Heaven.
Righto, better inquire about demons, then.
Lorena:
Since most of the angels are gay, it looks like you and I have no choice about checking out the demons. Look at the bright side: demons know how to throw a hell of a party.
True, but there won’t be any alcohol — it boils away at a pretty low temperature. Likewise, nothing to smoke — it dries out too fast in the high heat. It’ll be like a Junior High slumber party.
Oh. Wait. That is hell.