Heaven and hell are the same thing. After death we become fully aware of the impact our time on earth has had on those around us, it’s implications, etc. This insight is ours for eternity (or whatever), so having eternity to reflect on the fact that you were a prick and hurt people a lot and noone really liked you would be hell, and getting to spend eternity (or whatever) with the knowledge that you had helped people, made their lives better, and were loved would be heaven.
Our existance as we know it is the result of a giant, flukey, cosmic cock-up. Some little monkey-man developed an opposable thumb as a genetic mutation. Him being able to hunt more effectivly, defend and shelter himself more effectivly lead to this being selected trait, and we gradually developed from there. The comparative ease with which we now managed our basest needs freed up “leisure time” in which we started thinking, thus working out our brains more through the ages and slowly becoming what we are today. This suits my very misanthropic worldview.
Tomato-based sauces made and served in schools cause appendicitis. I only have 2 data points for this theory, but I hold to it. My mom ate pasta at school when she was in her teens, and the next day was rushed to the hospital to have her appendix removed. My best friend ate a school-made pizza at school and had to be rushed to the hospital that night with a burst appendix.
HEY! I read that short story! Who was it by again?
The humans on earth are actually a lost colony from a super advanced interstellar human race.
Faith shapes reality. Read Terry Pratchet.
God is an alien that put us humans here on earth so that we could eventually develop high enough technology so that we can populate the earth with clones. The mothership is coming soon, DON’T FORGET YOUR QUARTERS FOR SPACE-TOLLS!!!
Related to the parallel universe theories.
I sometimes consider that we all exist in our own Universe, each Universe containing only one sentient being everyone else being the quantum probability ‘image’ of other sentient beings in nearby Universes. So that though whilst I am writing this message in my own Universe, quantum near-coppies of myself are writing the same (or extremely similar) messages in all you other doper’s Universes. It is however possible that the near-coppies do not pass to you the exact message that I put out within my own Universe. This can lead to two people interacting getting confused because there inter-sentient-being-communication is imperfect. This also leads to the fact that each Universe contains only one observer from a Quantum Field collapse perspective, and since in each Universe the observer is a different being, then each Universe goes through a different quantum collapse.
Cheers, Bippy
My pet theory relates to why men can never find the ketchup.
In our evolution, women were the gatherers, and men the hunters. While women needed to remember the location of certain plants, men merely had to wander around until they found some animals. Thus, women’s brains developed the ability to remember the location of objects, whereas that section of the brain atrophied in men. (In men it was replaced by the ability to remember statistics: at first, it was how many mammoth Grog had killed last season, and now it’s batting averages.)
Michael Jordan didn’t quit the first time because “I want to play baseball”. He quit because some Rockets fan threatened him with death if he didn’t retire. Then once the Rockets had won two titles, Michael figured it was safe to come back.
But then the Lakers fan who was pissed from '91 came and did it again, so Michael had to leave in '98, and the Lakers two years later won, and the rest is history.
My theories are similar to maskedman’s and missbunny’s, and are as follows:
The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere is in the Universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.
(OK, so I stole that from “Calvin and Hobbes,” but you have to admit, it really makes sense.)
There is a special place in Hell reserved for those people who leave the house without wearing something on their lips. This section of Hell is next to the section reserved for women who wear white pants or shoes before Memorial Day or after Labor Day, with a one-day exception made on Easter.
(My great-grandmother Agnes used to insist that one must wear lipstick no matter what, but around age 15 I was able to convince her that Chapstick is “clear” lipstick. Love them loopholes. She is also at least 50% responsible for my not wearing “white” white when I got married. I wore ivory, because I got married in April and could not bear to wear white shoes. I will leave it up to you to try and figure out what the other 50% might be - and only part of it begins with “Call me Ishmael.”)
The shortest person in the band will at some point wind up playing tuba. (Obviously, I’m talking orchestra or wind ensemble or brass ensemble, not rock.)
Me and a friend, half-jokingly, decided to harrass our respective girlfriends with this theory (his girlfriend is now his wife, mine’s an ex-girlfriend, don’t know what that tells you). We went as far as to say this also explains men’s superior sense of direction, and ability to read maps. Not that there were maps when we were still out hunting bears and stuff, but we developed better internal GPS skills. Women’s internal GPS skills are micro (where’s the stuff in the kitchen cabinets), ours is macro (where’s, say, France :p).
The longer we entertained it, the more plausible it seemed. Therefore, it’s true now. Honestly.
Speaking of a sense of direction, I have a theory:
The American Indians are mistaken when they say there are seven directions – north, south, east, west, up, down and within. In truth there is only one direction: around.
(I am she who drives by ear.) garius said:
If you haven’t seen Blade Runner, you really must.
Actually, it may be something about tomatoes in general; my wife was once rushed to the hospital with appendicitis shortly after drinking tomato juice. For years afterward she would not drink tomato juice, although I suspect the odds of her having her appendix act up again after it was removed were fairly slim.
All currently used word processing software will give you the Blue Screen of Death as you finish the last word of your 327-page missive that you haven’t saved since page 142. Doesn’t matter which software or which OS, they’re all programmed for maximum data loss.
That great big hole in Siberia? The one that the scientists dropped a microphone into and supposedly heard the shrieking of tortured souls burning in Hell? Uh-uh. Those were all of the socks that have mysteriously vanished through the black hole in my dryer, trying to get my attention so they could come home.
