If a unique hell were to await you in the afterlife ...

God forbid it should happen, but, if you were to die tomorrow and learn that because of your sins, you were to suffer the cruel fate of having to spend the rest of eternity with someone you most despise, living together in a tiny, ugly, brick cottage (so you couldn’t rip some of it down and build a raft) that’s surround by absolutely nothing but water, who would that person be? Which human oinker on this planet would make the experience the most unpleasant for you and – if you care to answer – why?

As for myself? Ted Koppel would be near or at the top of the list. I can’t imagine how I, or anyone else for that matter, could stomach being near the guy for two-minutes, much less in such tight quarters for the rest of eternity!!

My mother. I love her, and I’m terribly happy she lives an hour away. As someone wise once said, “She knows how to push all my buttons. After all, she installed them!”

The Shrub. And country music. One of us would have to go. I’d probably take the CD and slash my throat with it.

I imagine spending all eternity locked up in a small room with somebody like Ed Gein or Jeffrey Dahmer would be about as bad as it could get.

Hmmm, moreso than Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Bundy, Gacy, Dahmer? Moron.

Sin? I don’t sin. So I get to spend eternity with Hugh Laurie.

*Then *I’ll start sinning.

Gein wouldn’t be too bad, unless you were a middle-aged woman, and Dahmer wouldn’t be too bad, unless you were a young ethnic male.

I have several relatives who qualify… shudder

Tyra Banks. Pardon, now I have to go punch something until it dies.

Oh good, then she’d be too busy in your hell, to join me in mine. But then, she would send her older and paler sister, Janice Dickinson to me.

Anybody chewing gum.

Somebody with a mobile that plays MP3s. Actually it would be a short stay in hell because I wouldn’t be able to hear the MP3s once said phone had been shoved where the sun don’t shine.

I’d rather live in a country run by Bush that in a country run by either of those six, but when it comes to spending eternity together in a small room, Bush is number seven on this list.

I think the Rod Serling answer is: “the love of my life.”

The idea being that, of course, being trapped in such a situation forever would be enough to drive any two people over the edge and at each other’s throats, eventually.* And when it happens, it’ll be all the worse because your de facto tormentor was the one person you loved more than anything in the world.

How’s that for “dark,” huh?

*About “eventually”—if it’s eternity we’re talking about, here, it doesn’t really matter if it happens in ten years, or ten million. Or ten billion. There’s always going to be a lot more time coming.

Insults aren’t allowed in Cafe Society, Operation Ripper. Do not do this again.

My ex-stepdad. Or my ex-husband. Or that old boyfriend. Or that guy I used to work with. Or that lady I work with right now. Or that kid… gee, this is hard. I hate so many, many people. And just think of all the assholes I haven’t even met yet!

Operation Ripper: Calling another poster a “moron” is a violation of our rules. No personal insults allowed here, and you’ve been around long enough to know better. Shame!

Meanwhile, this doesn’t seem like a Cafe Society discussion, so being moved to IMHO.

I love country music–but the CD would probably be Toby Keith or Lee Greenwood.

However, my throat wouldn’t get slashed.

Toby Keith would be my soundtrack in hell too. He along with Celine Dion, Gloria Estefan, and Barbra Streisand. I’d also hate to spend an eternity with Jessica Simpson or Anna Nicole Smith. I hate perky, stupid people.

Gilbert Gottfried, Rosie O’Donnell or Fran Drescher. I can’t stand people with nasally whining voices.

Or else being placed with a soup-slurper. The thought of someone slurping something off of a spoon for all eternity is horrifying.

As for Hitler, Stalin, Bush, Dahmer, etc: I kind them revolting, disgusting and the lowest forms of life but they would not get on my nerves as quickly as the others. I could carry on a conversation with Hitler or Stalin about how they developed their views. I could get recipes from Dahmer. I could tell Bush the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears (I don’t want the conversation to get too difficult for him). But the idea of Gilbert Gottfried slurping soup (noodle soup! :eek: ) and talking to me would make me take the spoon from him and drive it into my ear canals.