Here is how the world works, people.

When you die, you enter a perpetual dream that you can’t wake from. So in the same way that you can think about something while you’re falling asleep, and start dreaming about it, then whatever you’ve convinced yourself to believe all these years, is exactly what will happen. You’ll see all those bumholes you told to “burn in hell” burning in hell. You’ll have all the big titted/bumed or male reproductive organed/balled sexual figures you can get your hands on. You’ll have all you can eat and never get fat. Or not. Whatever you want. That’s how the afterlife works. So if you want to believe some fat bastard is in charge of your life (i.e. Buddha), that’s the afterlife you’ll have. If you want to believe some silent and solemn fabulous person was nailed to a board to let you get into heaven, you’ll shake his bloody hand on your way in. Whatever you want.

Me, I obsess with flight. I live to fly, I love watching and dreaming about birds, hell, I even fap to pictures of falcons (**** you, btw). Maybe when I die at 50 from eating too much McDonald’s, I can finally live my dream. But that doesn’t float everyone’s boat, so you know what YOU do, personally? Whatever the **** you want. It’s not like someone’s watching over you or some gay-bum religious **** like that.