Listen, I heard that some crackpot says the Rapture date of tomorrow is wrong and it’s Coming at 6 PM tonight. I assume that’s Eastern Time, so you Californians get a couple of extra hours of depravity. Since The Hour is nearly upon me I am writing really fast to get this post up under the wire, just in case. I hate being rushed!
Well, I’m all dressed, in case I fall asleep tonight and get raptured in the morning before I get a chance to get dressed. I’ve always been conscious of looking right. I always get the sense that if I look too scruffy, my late mother will reach down and smack me upside the head, you know?
As I discussed in my Rapture Preparatory Plan post, I am dressed in warm clothing because it does get rather cold starting at about 15,000 feet and I hate being cold. The problem is, it’s hot as hell here, so I had to crank up the AC. Not that I care how much it costs, since I won’t have to pay the bill anyhow, right?
I also have my carry-on packed and am keeping it attached to my body so if I get raptured, it will automatically come with me. Otherwise, having been swept right out of my shoes, I might not have time to grab my bag. I hate going anywhere without snacks and a bottle of water. I decided that, in addition to some easy to carry peanut butter crackers, I am bringing a couple of bananas and apples. Most of those church mooches I’ve known roundly reject fruit and vegetables, preferring greasy high-calorie treats, so I figure I won’t have to share with some lazy, unprepared sponger on the way up. And I can give the crackers to any babbling religious pontificators I run into to shut them up. Let’s face it, peanut butter is great for that.
I also packed a bottle of Pinot Noir. I don’t figure they will let me in with that, but I plan to finish it off before I get up there and drop the empty bottle. Hope I don’t hit anybody down here. I also packed my tooth brush and deodorant. Not sure if we will use that stuff up there, but I always pack those things.
I even put a bra on and I hate those damned things, but I didn’t want to Diss anybody at the Gates, you know? With my luck, I might get punished and have to spend eternity fighting off Jimmy Swaggert or that Crystal Cathedral huckster or something. I packed my hair blower too, don’t ask me why. I mean, I don’t even know if they have electricity up there. I mean, you can’t blow your hair with the power of some light Under a Bushel, as the saying goes. All I know is I’m gonna look like hell if I can’t blow my hair. And that’s another thing. If I’m going, my hair stylist better be going too. I don’t want to have to go looking for another one who pleases me. I hate when that happens.
Also, I have my ID in my carry-on (or “carry-up, as it were), in case I have to prove it’s really me. I wonder if I will need my passport? Anybody? I am bringing my long form birth certificate for sure, because I don’t want any COLB questions. I might have to come back down here to get the real thing and find out I can’t get back in either place, thereby spending eternity floating around in the sky with nothing but peanut butter crackers–until some lazy-assed, overpaid air traffic controller fails to stop me from crashing into some small aircraft.
Anyways, I was thinking about who I would like to meet up there and hang out with. I mean, besides my family members, whom I miss terribly. Except for that one Aunt, but I really don’t think she’s up there anyways.
I’ve decided if I could hang out in the sky with one famous person who has passed, it would be Gilda Radner (make sure you click). I’m not usually affected by the death of someone famous, but I was really concurrently bummed out and freaked out when Gilda died. I would definitely share my apples and bananas with that gal.
I wouldn’t mind rubbing up against Patrick Swayze and having some of that dirty dancing with him either, but, as Gilda used to say: Nevermind.
So how about you? You ready?