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Guest imported_Tesseract

*~ This monkey's gone to Heaven...?

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Guest imported_Tesseract

So, i was looking at my dog while she was sleeping and i saw that film last night were this family had a photo album with dead family members that looked like sleeping at first... i imagined my dog dead, and i though to my self...Animals go to Heaven right? they go to Heaven because they dont face ethic dilemas, therefore they do in God's will. God takes full responsibilty on how animals act from day one and guarantees Heaven after life, its a bonus for giving animals less brains.

The idea of Heaven and Hell applies in all religions, either its mountains of rice or acid parties on clouds, Heaven exists for everyone that believes...We may be Christians, and we may be with the wrong god...its an eternal debate, My god over your God...people fight over that shit, if there really is one god that wants us to state and prove our belief in order to redeem us, only one side believes in the real thing.

We are all made by one god, one force, either we are correct on who he is or not. Animals are made by the same god, but animals KNOW who the real god is since they all go to heaven...So, there's a possibilty my dog is a Muslim, Right?

There's a possibility that a jew's dog believes in Allah,

Osama's dog could be a christian..etc etc etc


So, if we say that my dog is a hardcore muslim why doesnt she rent a helicopter fill it with TNT and blow my building kamikaze style?...

Ok, she couldnt possibly fly a heli so why doesnt see just bite my throat while i'm sleeping?....


The answer is simple...in the same way animals dont act by decision, they dont 'believe' by decision...So, whats the point?....animals have the knowledge yet they do nothing about it. God is just stupid...."i'll tell you the secret but then i'll take away your speech"

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Guest Dyptheria

no, the pixies were straight up BADASS. all pop-rock (i refrain from the word al*******ve) music today is indirectly influenced by the pixies, and they're doing a bad job at it i might say. i was highly disappointed that this wasn't a pixies thread...


as far as heaven goes, heaven is a construct of human imagination. everything relative to humans should therefore go to heaven. i mean, what's to seperate a pet dog from an alligator, or the billions of skin mites that live on your face? wont you need the whole ecosystem with you to support your existence? yes, since heaven is relative to humans, we should be able to say which animals are allowed into heaven, so rest assured that your dog will be in heaven. :dazed: :dazed: :dazed:

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Guest imported_Tesseract

Good point Dypheria, still whats important in this type of thoughts is to mess things more, not clear em up;)


Here's some more:




Conversations with Vincente were not always easy. He was liab1e to talk about weird stuff, and he also had a habit of getting stuck ïn a subject, so that for a fortnight or more he could hardly talk about anything else. Á few months ago, the subject had been hell.


It wasn't official, not a rule, but the deal was that if you took the food from the soup kitchen, you got a sermon. The Irish priest would limp over to where you sat in the canvas-tent canteen, dragging behind him the leg that had been damaged in his Mindanao missionary days. For a short while he'd watch you chew your rice, and if you glanced up, he'd give you a wink and a small smile. Then, about three or four mouthfuls from the bottom of the bowl, he'd clear his throat and - in his accented but extremely fluent Tagalog - begin.


Á typical opening line would be: 'I'll tell you a thing, boys. Sit tight and listen to this thing. I was lying awake in bed the other night, as I sometimes do, when a peculiar idea struck me. Only God knows where paradise is. Ôï us, to you and I, the Iocation of paradise is an eternal mystery. And yet, with equal mystery, we know exactly how to find paradise. We don't know where it is...and yet we can find it. It's an interesting thought, is it not? Perhaps we could dwell ïn that a short while.'


But this evening, the chain of events took a different turn. Just as the priest was about to hit the throat-clearing stage, Vincente cleared his.

He said: "I'm in trouble. I'm going to go to hell, padre".'Oh,'the priest replied, apparently more surprised by Vincentes readiness to chat than by the words themselves.


Silence was usually the reception he got from his soup beneficiaries,...'Well, l' d say you are altogether too young to have come to such a conclusion. Perhaps you could tell me how you reached it.'

'It's an idea I have.'

'Á foolish idea. I've known you Iong enough, and you're a good boy. Much too good for the devil.'

'I still think I'm going to hell.'

'I see.' The padre knotted his fingers together, presenting an

archway of chewed nai1s. 'Vincente...is there something you've done? Perhaps it would be something you'd rather talk about in private, just the two of us. We could go for a walk, or....'

'It's something I'm going to do. Not something I've done.'

'You p1an to sin?'

'...I don't see how i'll avoid it.'

'But son, this is why the Church is here for you. Ôï provide the means and guidance by which...'

'Hell,' vincente said, 'goes on for ever. It never stops. And once you re in, you can t get out.

Judging by his expression, the priest didn't appreciate the interruption, but he took it in his stride. ' That is correct, vincente. The torments of hell are never...ending.'

'If my dad is dead, do you think he's in hell?'

'...Your dad?'

'Is it a possibility?'


'Does anyone go to hell?'

' ...Yes. '

'So it's a possibility.'

'If he's nï longer with us, you could say it's a possibi1ity. But...'

'I think he might be there because he abandoned me. I think he might be being tortured by devils.'

'If I go to he11, I'm going to become a devi1,' Totoy cut in abruptly. He'd noticed something in vincente's voice, a sudden cold flatness, and knew it was a precursor to trouble. Potentially a precursor to being banned from the soup kitchen. 'I'm applying for the job as soon as I arrive.'

'Now, Totoy,' the priest chided. 'You wouldn't want to be a devi1 for a minute. Devils are barred from the gates of heaven, and therefore suffer the same torment as damned souls.'

'I think he might be being tortured by devi1s, padre,' Vincente repeated, completely undeterred by Totoy's attempt to move the discussion to less volatile ground. He put his bowl down, even though his soup wasn't finished yet. 'He's in hell, and he can't get out. I don't think it's fair.'

'There must be quite a lot of devils,' said Totoy, his anxiousness increasing. 'Hell must be huge.'

But now the padre was as undeterrable as Vincente. 'Fair is not something you worry yourself about,' he said with the authority of personal experience. ' Ôï find fairness in life, you would have to know the mind of God.' Then, in illustration, he tapped his knuck1es ïn his bad leg.

'I'm not trying to find fairness in life. Hell is after life. And I don't think it's fair that God decided to put my dad there.'

'Vincente, if your dad is in hell, which is something neither one of us could know, it wouldn't be because God put him there. Quite the opposite. Ây deciding ïn our actions in life, we decide the nature of our afterlife.'

'Nobody would decide to go to hell.'

'You might say that nobody would want to go to hell, but...'

Vincente interrupted the priest again. 'If God has put my dad in hell, the only way l'd ever get to see him again is if 1 go to hell too.'

'Ah,' said the padre. 'It seems I'm being slow ïn the uptake. Now I see where this is going.'

'You think hell has visiting days?'

'Sïn, one moment...

'I doubt it does.'


'So if I do nothing wrong in life, I don't get to see him again. And if I do something bad, I get to see him, but I also go to hell for ever.'

'Son! Would you listen a moment!'

'Does that sound fair to you?

'As I have already said, to find fairness in life you would need to know the...'

'Jesus Christ!' Vincente exploded. 'I'm not asking about the mind of God or your fucking Leg! I'm asking you if it sounds fair!'

The priest looked stunned. 'I...' he said.

'Don't ban us from the soup kitchen!' said Totoy.

'Yes or no would do it, padre!' vincente shouted furiously, getting to his feet...

'How fucking hard can that be?'


The priest was an understanding and merciful man, so neither boy was banned from the soup kitchen, despite the swearing and the food fight Vincente's hurled bowl precipitated.

'Don't worry, son,' the padre said, when Totoy went to see him the next day, full of profuse apologies on his friend 's behalf. 'of course you can both come back. You can come back any time, and you'll be made welcome. In the grand scheme of things, a food fight isn't too bad...though I'd be very grateful if it didn't happen again.'

He then added, 'And, just so as you know, I had a word with the Lord 1ate last night. You aren't going to hell, vincente isn't going to hell, and his dad isn't either. You tell vincente that. I don't want you boys fretting about devi1s and the like, you hear?' Totoy assured him that he wouldn't fret about devils. And he didn't.

Vincente, however, did. Every night for two weeks. What could you do? That was his nature.

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