Understanding the current economic situation and the US unemployment rate of over 8%, many of you will be entering the job market, if not already in it. Before we get to the lighter side of this story, always remember: The choice is yours. Picking the wrong job can be more disasterous than having no job at all. That said, the following story regarding the recruitment process may more fully illustrate the point:
A guy dies and St. Peter tells him he gets to choose between Heaven and Hell? And the guy says, "What's up with that?", and St. Peter sez, "Well truth is we can't decide what to do with you. In your life you did some good things, but you did some bad things also... I know you took care of the wife and kids and got em' through college, but you were sleeping with your secretary and pilfering money from the company for your coke habit, so God said...to let you decide."
"Well, that seems fair", the man replies, "let's take a look."
The first stop on the tour is Hell. They descend in an elevator in a long dark shaft but strangely, just like earth, as they descend deeper it gets cooler instead of hotter. As the doors open up the man is greeted by the view of the most beautiful casino he has ever seen. Long maroon velvet curtains drape the bar and tables and Dean Martin is , Martini in hand, singing with a piano and a sax player and Louie Belson on drums. It's positively fucking charming. Everyone is in black tie and the women are fabulous. The man is handed a complimentary cocktail and ushered to the Devil's table under a great chandalier. He speaks with the Devil for a few minutes with all the questions about hell a man might have, based on what we hear on earth, and the Devil says, "Oh, that rot. You know those PR bastards. God's got a million of em and they do a real blackwash story on this place. I need to look after that more". The man agrees and finds the Devil to be a perfectly likable fellow. He bids him farewell and hopes to see him again.
The next stop is Heaven. As they exit the elevator, the man is greeted by a pastoral scene of upscale American suburbia. The sun shines, hills roll, birds tweet, dogs chase boys on bikes riding down the street throwing newspapers at porches, and the sound of a couple of guys mowing their lawns can be heard as the milk truck rings his bells with the freshest delivery of the day. It's positively fucking charming. The women all look like June Cleaver and the men like Cary Grant. The man meets God as the Lord is pulling himself out of the pool at the country club after a couple of laps. "Let's drop into the 19th hole for a Manhattan and talk a bit, shall we", the Lord asks him. "Sure, sure", the man replies.
"So whaddaya think?", asks God to the man. "What's it gonna be? Heaven or Hell?"
The man stumbles for a second but regains his composure and addresses the Lord in a straightforward manner. "Well, your excellence, if it's all the same to you, may I be perfectly honest?"
"Of course, my son", the Lord replies.
"What you've got here in heaven is just positively fabulous. I mean, everybody looks so happy and the dogs are cute, and whatever...but to tell you the truth, Hell didn't look so bad at all. I mean shit, uh, shoot... Dean Martin's there and that's not so bad is it?"
"Oh, that Deano", the Lord chortles, throwing his head back in a cheerful chuckle. The man continues, "... so all-in-all, I just think I'd fit into Hell better and in that way everybody will get along better for eternity".
"It's your choice", the Lord says to the man. "Peter", he yells, "give him Hell!"
On the next trip down the temperature is rising so quickly that by the time they arrive the man has taken off his tie and is sweating profusely and begging for water. The doors open. Burnt corpses are dragging themselves across the floor with large steel balls chained to their legs as the curtains burn and screams of agony can be heard for miles. The piano collapses in a heap of ash. The Devil arrives, cloven and carrying a Satanic pitchfork as he laughs evily amidst the flames "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha", he echos into the hollow chambers of the deepest darkest catacombs of the forgotten.
The man is shocked! "Devil", he says, "what happened to the casino? The cocktails? The beautiful women? Dean Martin?"
For more in Political Satire and Satire see:
Nearly a year and a half after having joined the Vietnam Air Golden Lotus frequent flier club and coming 99.9% close to having joined the Mile High club on my flight with them to Europe last year, this lovely airline has finally seen fit to send me a statement of my travel miles, along with the following email message: "Please open attached file for details and do not reply this email. Thank you!" And get this - the attachment is a MS Word doc. ! Ha :). They're kidding, right? Nope. So that's the state of technology they've reached in customer loyalty programs. What if I just want to add a few million miles to my total? No problem. Cut and paste. Upgrades? No problem. And BTW. The tower instructs all pilots to just " Please Tweet or post a notice to your wall if you believe your plane is going to crash. All air traffic controllers are currently busy on Facebook and Twitter and we appreciate your cooperation." Thank you for flying Vietnam Air!
