Heaven & Hell
So, the father of my nephew sent an email, with a bunch of humorous content, to my wife for my mom, which my wife then forwarded to me. I read it, and laughed, and decided that given the theological bent of my blog I would share one of the items in the email about heaven and hell.
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Heaven is Where:
The Police are British,
The Chefs are Italian,
The Mechanics are German,
The Lovers are French and
It’s all organized by the Swiss.
Hell is Where:
The Police are German,
The Chefs are British,
The Mechanics are French,
The Lovers are Swiss and
It’s all organized by the Italians.
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It’s funny how merely switching a few ethnic variables can make such a radical difference.
Wrote the following comment on February 24th, 2010 at 1:44 pm #
suggesting that there is something to the stereotypes, no matter how much we balk?
Wrote the following comment on February 24th, 2010 at 3:40 pm #
Roger – Ah yes, ethnicity and stereotypes… indeed a touchy subject. When I have taught writing in the past, the composition readers that I have used often have a section on race. In addressing this issue one of the things I have said is that collective identity is based upon generalizations, which basically means stereotypes. Of course some stereotypes are considerably more negative and damaging, and even in the instance where there are positive qualities that are stereotyped, it is uncritical to generalize without being open to exceptions, qualifications, and the concrete uniqueness of each individual. On top of that, within certain constraints, this stuff can be downright funny.
Wrote the following comment on February 27th, 2010 at 6:57 am #
Kinda’ like the two Mexicans crossing the desert, and having been without food for over a week, and recently out of water, they both thought their lives were coming to an early end, when SUDDENLY!, they both smelled… bacon!
Renewed with encouragement, and summoning what remained of the little strength they had, they walked, crawled and stumbled the next few paces toward the direction of the aroma.
And there, to their astonishment was a tree! But it was a tree of the most unusual variety, because filled on its limbs, were every type and variety of bacon!
Regular bacon, slab bacon, peppered bacon, Canadian bacon, smoked bacon, double smoked bacon, dry cured… bacon, bacon, bacon!
Thinking it might be a mirage, they looked at each other in astonished amazement, and then thanked God for what seemed to be a mighty and miraculous provision.
José reached up and began chomping down upon the pieces which he carefully picked from the tree. Placing them in his mouth, he closed his eyes and began to chew.
Oh, the bacon was a Godsend!
And then, just as SUDDENLY!, explosive shots rang out!
Ratta, tattta, rat-a-tat-taatt!
The unmistakable sounds of a .50 caliber machine gun echoed over the desert floor.
Juan cried out, “José! Stop eating!”
“Heet’s not a bacon tree!”
“Heet’s…. heet’s… heet’s…
“Heet’s a ham bush!”