Enough imagining dead celebrities in Heaven, I’m begging you
First of all, John McCain is in hell
Death is awful, and I can't blame anyone for struggling to make sense of it. That's where the idea of an afterlife came from, right? Refusal to accept the nothingness waiting for us the moment our pulse stops? If it makes you feel better to imagine your grandma reclining on a cloud while the world burns beneath her, that's totally fine. But what we're not gonna do anymore is write celebrities into some weirdo Heaven fan-fiction to get retweets on this Bitch Of An Earth.
On Saturday, I learned John McCain died via this video of crabs joyfully dancing like some kind of fiesta crab Mamma Mia — you know, the scene when they all dance on the dock?
Even worse was this tweet, which I guess was supposed to be feel-good?
First of all…I highly doubt Soul Queen Aretha Franklin is kicking it with the dude who voted against making Martin Luther King, Jr. Day a holiday more than once. Also, John McCain would definitely be in Hell. It's estimated more than 151,000 people die every day, which means around 1 million people would be in this freshman section of heaven and yet John McCain and Aretha Franklin found each other. WHICH BEGS THE QUESTION: Is there a VIP section in Heaven? I've just resigned myself to being a serf while I'm alive, and now I have to reconcile with the fact that I'll stay one when I'm a big dead bitch.
But really, this celebrity Heaven fan-fiction is some weirdo shit. This imagining of a random assortment of celebrities partying together makes zero sense. Why would Stephen Hawking and Prince be partying together? He'd definitely be the Minnesota version of Heaven (which coincidentally is Michigan Hell.) Is Stephen Hawking saying all of this via computer or is he restored to his young, able bodied self?
The only good Heaven fan-fiction are the ones with fucking (I've yet to see this any, but I know they're out there) and SoundCloud rappers trying to integrate with Very Important Dead People of Heaven. You know what makes me smile? The thought of Lil Peep trying to get into the VIP section and the bouncer-angel is like, "Nah, not tonight" and clips the cloud-velvet rope down while the giraffe that German zoo butchered pops bottles with Barbra Bush in the background.
That said, if you have any stories about dead celebrities fucking in Heaven, please send them to am[email protected] posthaste. I'm working through a few things.
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