The way I see it, Rapture is a win-win situation.
If we get to go to heaven, don’t we get all the bennies that heaven is about? All the things we love that came with a price will now be free. We get all our addictions and gluttonies without the nasty withdrawal symptoms. Chocolate that doesn’t rot your teeth, and donuts that do not go directly to your thighs. Nerds and plain guys will get to have a leggy blonde, button-cute brunette, or saucy redhead.
All the guys will be buff, never fart, and throw away their stained tee shirts.
It will be OK to ride with the top down again.
You can call Ben and Jerry’s and order delivery.
Your feet will already know how to do West Coast Swing.
It will be OK to eat red meat again.
Six hours sleep will be enough.
The Terminator won’t be back.
There won’t be Twitter or texting.
If I don’t go to heaven, no one that remains behind will be someone who’s been saying, “I told you, or get a job, or a haircut, or why don’t you ever call.” All those people who set a good example for how not to have any fun.
I do hope a lot of people get to Rap. We could do with fewer people here. Imagine shorter lines at the DMV and Costco, how about empty seats at the Super Bowl and cheaper tickets, fewer cars on the road competing for fuel.
We’ll still have politicians, of course; probably naughty movie stars, too. People magazine will not go out of business. The kid who throws a tantrum in the Twinkie section of the supermarket will still be here.
I know a few good and deserving people. I hope they get to go. I will miss them. I get dibs on Susie’s beach house, Neil’s Harley, Dick’s motorhome, and Bruce’s wine cellar.
I kind of like the rapture-day prank I heard about. Take some of your unwanted clothes and shoes and leave sets of them arranged on sidewalks and lawns around town so it looks like the body inside vanished. Ya think it might fool the IRS?