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Design your own personal Hell

Oct 21, 2020
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Make GYERO Great Again
(Shamelessly stolen from Reddit)

You died and you’re going down south to the fiery abyss. Satan is nothing if not thorough, and he (she? they?) wants to make your stay as tortuous as possible. What are the amenities of your own personal Sheol?

Me, it would be a place where everyone whispers loudly when talking to everybody else, but speaks just soft enough to me that I can’t hear or understand what they’re saying.

I don’t like whispering.
 
Probably sitting next to some idiot who hums and sings the entire day to shitty music. Which is precisely what I currently, and every day deal with at work. So I suppose I am already living it.
 
Hell # 1 - no access to music

Hell # 2 - I get to read from any source at any time. But every use of the words “there” “their” and “they’re”, and “your” and “you’re” are always wrong. I would also have to see words that don’t really exist like “would of” and “could of”, “premadonna”, and “sike”.
 
In grad school I heard a guy giving interesting synopsis of what hell would be like. Basically sitting next to somebody who you can’t stand, and it’s known that they cannot stand you for eternity. Awkward conversation. Eye contact forcibly implemented at times
 
Oh you like Mexican, too?
I like Mexican just fine, but this going off inside your body is what I'm talking about. I came upon some Korean marines torturing a Vietnamese prostitute by setting one off inside her.

 
(Shamelessly stolen from Reddit)

You died and you’re going down south to the fiery abyss. Satan is nothing if not thorough, and he (she? they?) wants to make your stay as tortuous as possible. What are the amenities of your own personal Sheol?

Me, it would be a place where everyone whispers loudly when talking to everybody else, but speaks just soft enough to me that I can’t hear or understand what they’re saying.

I don’t like whispering.
Florida
 
San Fran. Avoiding needles and shit and aids all day every day.

All truth aside. Isn't hell where all the fun ppl and bad ppl go. Could imagine it's quite the collection of playboy mansions Eric Clapton on guitar. Elvis on the mic. Prince, all the wrasslers that have died from the eighties an nineties. And so on.

All those peeps aren't going upstairs. Could imagine hell has quite the roster. Could be ya know interesting.
 
Living March 28, 1992 over and over again. Laettner shot. Groundhog Day for UK fans.
 
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There's a scene in Cool Hand Luke where Luke is forced to dig a large hole, fill it back up, then repeat the process until he breaks down. In the movie, it seems to be a steamy, sweaty night and he's dirty, tired, and just done. Doing that would be my personal hell. Maybe add several giant speakers around me playing nothing but Bollywood music.
 
San Fran. Avoiding needles and shit and aids all day every day.

All truth aside. Isn't hell where all the fun ppl and bad ppl go. Could imagine it's quite the collection of playboy mansions Eric Clapton on guitar. Elvis on the mic. Prince, all the wrasslers that have died from the eighties an nineties. And so on.

All those peeps aren't going upstairs. Could imagine hell has quite the roster. Could be ya know interesting.
Some say Hell could throw a football over them there mountains...
 
Flights cancelled, stuck in an airport, feeling gross and stinky from travel, unsure when you're going to get home.

Or one worse.. being stuck on that COVID Cruise out at sea.

Being stuck anywhere really.
 
It’s like walking half way to the end of it all every day and doing so in painful misery, and infinitely you can only walk half way to the end in increasing painful misery, but you never reach the end ... It’s eternal hell and it can never end.
 
Being surrounded by people who did nothing but talk politics (both ways), bro country on the radio and nothing on TV but 1992 UK/Duke and 2015 UK/Wisconsin on eternal loop.
Throw in 97 Arizona and watch nazr miss free-throw after free-throw. 2011 watching jones miss free-throw after free-throw.

2017 watching that squad lose a buzzer beater to UNC.
 
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The worst that I have heard is from a friend, who unfortunately died several years ago, and told me this a week or so before he died (knowing it was about that time). He said he imagined hell as having to sit and watch your parents view videos of you masturbating while going through puberty.
 
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Being stuck in the deepest cargo hold of an 18th century British prison ship with rancid food and no water, no light, people in pain and agony all around, struggling for air, drowning in their own excrement, and being eaten up by flies or worse for months on end
 
Having no way to stretch out. Hear me out.

You’re sitting on the ground. Your knees are pulled up towards your chest, and then zip tied around your torso. Your arms are forced behind your back and tied too. You have a comfortable corner to sit in, you’re fed well, and it’s a comfortable temperature.

Then they super glue your fingers together. And your toes. No matter how hard you try you cannot separate them. It doesn’t hurt but you can never separate your fingers and toes and stretch them out.

Finally your head is put in a box. You have only a couple of centimeters to move your head in any direction without touching sharpened spikes, including below your chin, at the base of the back of the back of your head, and next to your cheeks. You’ll never relax your head and neck again. Constant upright posture.

Now that you’ve accepted your eternal fate, you finally sit against the wall and hope for sleep, but it never comes. Each time you start to doze off, an arm comes out of the wall and tips you over. You can wiggle yourself back up but if you sit back against the wall and try to relax, you’re knocked over again.

So there you are for eternity. Legs bound tight. Hands behind your back. Fingers and toes constantly bound and webbed with glue. Head forever straight up with no way to relax or turn. All of your limbs are in an eternal state of non movement. You will never yawn and stretch out your arms above your head. You’ll never unflex your legs. You’ll never spread out your fingers and toes. You’ll never relax your head and neck, or even turn it. You’ll never be able to lean over onto the wall without being knocked over.

Terrifying.
 
Being immersed in a world of technology that sort of works better than what it replaced but really just adds a ton of unneeded complexity and provides a conduit and incentive for everyone to behave as histrionically as possible.

So COVID lockdowns, basically, ad infinitum.
 
It's always Monday, it's raining and you have to work a 14 hour day. Repeat like Groundhog Day. And you have a cold.
 
Sitting in a quiet room full of antique furniture with a clock ticking loudly and the smell of old people thick in the air with Fran Drescher calling out bingo numbers. There's a morbidly obese woman sitting directly across from me with one of those noses where you can look directly up the nostrils and a little booger flips in and out her nostril as she breathes heavily in a raspy death rattle and smiles suggestively at me. My penis retreats like a frightened turtle so far up into my body that it hurts like a kidney stone and I check my watch again but my plane doesn't leave for another 14 hours.
 
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