Did he?
Did he not?
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Jesus is what allows human beings to enter Heaven.
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Priests are Jesus’ emissaries here on Earth, therefore they are Heaven-bound.
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Priests love molesting children.
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Michael Jackson loves molesting children
Therefore, Michael Jackson went to Heaven – or at least could have gone/go to Heaven as child molestation doesn’t seem to weigh too heavily into that equation.
Fuck! Xunzian got here first.
It’s all for the better, though, he made a logical postulation out of the matter and while the implication would have been there (with what I was going to say) it wouldn’t quite have risen to the level of a logical postulation.
Cheers, Xunzian.
I doubt it, he was black (sorta).
Why do I always know that Smears is the author of an OP before see his name?
I dunno. The Mormons believe that if a black person is really, really virtuous in life the dark color leaves their skin and they become white. Ditto for any of the other races besides those glorious sheet-white Caucasians. Michael Jackson seems to be proof of that. Calvinist theology would also seem to agree – after all, he was richly rewarded in this life, a sure sign of divine favor.
I think the smart bet to take is that he is currently resting in Abraham’s bosom.
Not that any of you give a crap,but you do know that your on your way to hell, don’t you?
Well, at least this explains how all that good intention crap got on the soles of my feet! Does that stuff ever dry, or do I have to continue walking on gooey niceness all the way down? Maybe I’ll try moonwalking, that might rub some of it off.
Nah, the heat dries it and finally burns it off. I have a pair of fireproof boots. Pays to think ahead… :-"
Is it crunchy and sweet, like peanut brittle? Perhaps I could set up a stand and sell it to unsuspecting heathens. Even if I set the price really, really low (say, 1 billionth of a soul per serving), I’d eventually be able to save up enough for a whole redemption. Who’s Lucifer’s accountant? Is he good enough to notice that thin a skim?
Tentative? I don’t think he’d mind. Why, between this and his night pimping gig, I doubt he would ever notice your skimping ways. He mentioned something about us going tandem skydiving, I’ll see if I can’t squeeze in a word on your behalf. I still don’t know why he keeps insisting on blindfolding me. It’s not like I can see through his sole. I mean, have you seen those boots? I hear they’re fireproof. Don’t get me started on the insulation. Those guys down there get all the good stuff. Does he always seem prepared to you? I wonder how he does that? Those guys…
PEANUT BRITTLE WAFERS FOR EVERYONE.
I think the smart bet is that he never died in the first place, but you know me, I’m not a gambling man.
Ah, the illusions. Oughtist, there is no skimming. You’re weighed right down to the last molecule before and after entering. What belongs to the master stays with the master. Your inventiveness is noted and may provide opportunities later. Larcenous thinking is rewarded. Yes! Tandem skydiving! I guess I’ll explain a little further. You see, Sandy is actually a female. We needed a male sucubus and were a bit shorthanded, so in addition to her blindfold, she also wears the cosmic veil (invisible to her) and this convinces her she is male.
Pimp??? Me a pimp??? Umm, down here I’m known as a “facilitator-in-training”. My job is to help those leaning in a direction to lean further. That’s how we obtained the “services” of Sandy. I’m in this particular society because instant gratification without thought provides a relatively easy job. As my skills improve I’ll be moved to more difficult social cultures where morality is stronger. It will take about a thousand years before I gain the full title of “facilitator” The heavy hitters get to work with politicians and religious leaders. I can hardly wait. The depravity is everywhere!
Right now, I’m stuck with philosophers as a training exercise. It’s not too bad. I just help them through the door of the hall of mirrors and collect what is left if they ever find the exit. As for the boots, hey, we have to have a little protection until we’re allowed to transubstantiate. One of the side perks of working with philosophers is that they generate tons of fluffy frothy insulation. That’s one of Sandy’s jobs…
Oh dear, tentat, you mistake my ambitions. I’m talking about replenishing my own soultank, turning around, and tattling on you all!! I’m a hardcore suck! Goodness sakes!! Surely God would accept my mottled patchwork… I assume, of course, that the peanut brittle of good intentions eventually liquifies to a much more navigable state as one approaches the pearly gates. Then one simply wipes the residue off one’s bare feet and enjoys pure pereginations round the fluffy firmament forever. I’ll wave to you!! 
…then again, perhaps I should keep my options open. What sorts of “opportunities” are we talking about? Fluff plucker? 
Oh my! You said good intentions! I’ll forgo the quote, but you just keep paving that road… Ummm, wear a yellow rose. I check the incoming right along and as a special favor, I’ll explain what good intentions buys you. But we have time. I’m in no hurry… 
Just hang onto your Snakey Weird Old Geezer membership card. I hear it’s the rare super secret handshake required to get into Tent’s Grotto (becoming his bitch is another option, but I’m not sure I recommend it). Once you’re in, you’re on your way to becoming one mean Fluffer Plucker. So I hear.
By the way, how good are you at extracting ball gags?
Mot fhuh beft, umvorphumately. 
Oh, he already got to you. This is never good.
Now now, everybody just relax. It’s only temporary until he learns the company line. Much like politicians, there will be a teleprompter for a short period and then notes scribbled on his hand. He’ll be fine, and we’ve already noted shoe size for the boots…
Might I have something in a steel or glass ball next time? Rubber exacerbates my TMJ. Thanks!
…just noticed, TMJ actually reconnects this somewhat to the OP!! =D>