He had been a successful professional sportsbettor. Unfortunately, a tragic accident had led to an untimely death, and now it was time to decide whether he would go to Heaven or to Hell.
And so, a meeting was convened. Present along with the deceased sportsbettor was a representative from Heaven and one from Hell. It was understood that the sportsbettor’s acceptable comportment during his lifetime had entitled him to freedom of choice as to his eternal destiny. Each representative would answer his questions about their respective Domains, thus enabling him to make an informed decision about his afterlife.
First to engage the sportsbettor was the Heaven representative. Their conversation was as follows:
Sportsbettor: I like rock n’ roll. What kind of music can I enjoy in Heaven?
Heaven Representative: What we offer is harp music, although we may be able to dig up some Pat Boone cassettes for you.
Sportsbettor: I really like beer. What do you serve up there?
Heaven Representative: Root beer, of course. I believe we have a contract with A&W.
Sportsbettor: I love hot babes. Will I find one in Heaven?
Heaven Representative: Without a doubt. We have a surplus of beanie babies, which are the hottest thing going now. And I personally guarantee that you will get one.
Sportsbettor: My biggest thrill in life was gambling . What does Heaven offer a gambler?
Heaven Representative: Nothing yet. But the Lord has started a petition to introduce Saturday night bingo games. I have a copy of the petition here that you are welcome to sign.
Satisfied that his questions pertaining to Heaven had been answered, the sportsbettor next engaged the representative from Hell:
Sportsbettor: Let me cut to the chase. I was a sportsbettor, and that’s what I love doing. What can you offer me?
Hell Representative: I can place you in Reno, Nevada. A rare opening has just become available. This is your lucky day.
Sportsbettor: Wow! I know there must be some negatives since, after all, it is Hell. But, I need action, and sure as Hell I can get it in Reno. Let’s do the deal. Where do I sign?
And so, the sportsbettor began his “life” after life in Reno, Nevada, the biggest little city in the world.
Part 2
The sportsbettor awoke. He immediately noticed that he was lying in a bed in a room he had never seen before. He attempted to rise from the bed, but his body would not move. A cold fear gripped him. He was paralyzed!
Suddenly, the representative from Hell materialized in front of the
sportsbettor, and addressed him.
Representative from Hell: What you have, my man, is simple quadriplegia. Plan on being bed-ridden for Eternity.
Sportsbettor: I don’t remember anything about paralysis in the contract that I signed, and I read the fine print with a magnifying glass.
Representative from Hell: Yes, but you didn’t read the super, super-fine print. To read, or even see, that, you’d have needed an electron microscope. And, I guess I forgot to mention that minor, little detail to you. Ha, ha, ha….
But don’t despair, we have an attendant—(who suddenly materializes in front of them)--who will take care of your personal needs. Olaf here will be your servant.
Sportsbettor: Being paralyzed is hellish. But now that I’m in Reno, at least I can legally wager on sports, which is my true passion in life. I can send Olaf down to the Reno sportsbooks to bet for me…
A knock on the door interrupts the conversation, and Steve DeSharme, head of the Nevada Gaming Control Board, enters the room. Mr. DeSharme addresses the sportsbettor.
Steve DeSharme: I’m sorry to inform you that Olaf cannot place bets for you. That is called “messenger betting,” and is strictly against the law, with no exceptions allowed. If you don’t think we’re serious about the law, go talk to John Ascuaga’s Nugget. We reamed them a new ******* for allowing messenger betting.
Sportsbettor: I guess I’ll just have to place bets over the Internet...
Steve De Sharme: We will be monitoring you for that dastardly activity, too. That is also against the law in Nevada. Try offshore betting here and we’ll show you how hellish Reno can be.
Sportsbettor: I guess that leaves me with phone accounts…
Steve DeSharme: Not a chance. The Las Vegas sportsbooks have phone identification equipment that doesn’t recognize calls from Reno phones. Your calls would not be accepted.
Sportsbettor: How about a cellular phone?
Steve DeSharme: Nope. It’s against the law to call phone accounts from a cellular phone. And we’ll be monitoring you. Listen, buddy, we’ve got your M.O. We know you were a big-time bettor before your death. We’re not in business to lose money. Don’t think for a moment that we’re going to let you make money from our sportsbooks.
Sportsbettor: God almighty! Paralyzed for Eternity and no sportsbetting. This is Hell!
Steve DeSharme: Cheer up, buddy, We plan on bringing you some devil’s food cake every week. Ha, ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha…
And so, a meeting was convened. Present along with the deceased sportsbettor was a representative from Heaven and one from Hell. It was understood that the sportsbettor’s acceptable comportment during his lifetime had entitled him to freedom of choice as to his eternal destiny. Each representative would answer his questions about their respective Domains, thus enabling him to make an informed decision about his afterlife.
First to engage the sportsbettor was the Heaven representative. Their conversation was as follows:
Sportsbettor: I like rock n’ roll. What kind of music can I enjoy in Heaven?
Heaven Representative: What we offer is harp music, although we may be able to dig up some Pat Boone cassettes for you.
Sportsbettor: I really like beer. What do you serve up there?
Heaven Representative: Root beer, of course. I believe we have a contract with A&W.
Sportsbettor: I love hot babes. Will I find one in Heaven?
Heaven Representative: Without a doubt. We have a surplus of beanie babies, which are the hottest thing going now. And I personally guarantee that you will get one.
Sportsbettor: My biggest thrill in life was gambling . What does Heaven offer a gambler?
Heaven Representative: Nothing yet. But the Lord has started a petition to introduce Saturday night bingo games. I have a copy of the petition here that you are welcome to sign.
Satisfied that his questions pertaining to Heaven had been answered, the sportsbettor next engaged the representative from Hell:
Sportsbettor: Let me cut to the chase. I was a sportsbettor, and that’s what I love doing. What can you offer me?
Hell Representative: I can place you in Reno, Nevada. A rare opening has just become available. This is your lucky day.
Sportsbettor: Wow! I know there must be some negatives since, after all, it is Hell. But, I need action, and sure as Hell I can get it in Reno. Let’s do the deal. Where do I sign?
And so, the sportsbettor began his “life” after life in Reno, Nevada, the biggest little city in the world.
Part 2
The sportsbettor awoke. He immediately noticed that he was lying in a bed in a room he had never seen before. He attempted to rise from the bed, but his body would not move. A cold fear gripped him. He was paralyzed!
Suddenly, the representative from Hell materialized in front of the
sportsbettor, and addressed him.
Representative from Hell: What you have, my man, is simple quadriplegia. Plan on being bed-ridden for Eternity.
Sportsbettor: I don’t remember anything about paralysis in the contract that I signed, and I read the fine print with a magnifying glass.
Representative from Hell: Yes, but you didn’t read the super, super-fine print. To read, or even see, that, you’d have needed an electron microscope. And, I guess I forgot to mention that minor, little detail to you. Ha, ha, ha….
But don’t despair, we have an attendant—(who suddenly materializes in front of them)--who will take care of your personal needs. Olaf here will be your servant.
Sportsbettor: Being paralyzed is hellish. But now that I’m in Reno, at least I can legally wager on sports, which is my true passion in life. I can send Olaf down to the Reno sportsbooks to bet for me…
A knock on the door interrupts the conversation, and Steve DeSharme, head of the Nevada Gaming Control Board, enters the room. Mr. DeSharme addresses the sportsbettor.
Steve DeSharme: I’m sorry to inform you that Olaf cannot place bets for you. That is called “messenger betting,” and is strictly against the law, with no exceptions allowed. If you don’t think we’re serious about the law, go talk to John Ascuaga’s Nugget. We reamed them a new ******* for allowing messenger betting.
Sportsbettor: I guess I’ll just have to place bets over the Internet...
Steve De Sharme: We will be monitoring you for that dastardly activity, too. That is also against the law in Nevada. Try offshore betting here and we’ll show you how hellish Reno can be.
Sportsbettor: I guess that leaves me with phone accounts…
Steve DeSharme: Not a chance. The Las Vegas sportsbooks have phone identification equipment that doesn’t recognize calls from Reno phones. Your calls would not be accepted.
Sportsbettor: How about a cellular phone?
Steve DeSharme: Nope. It’s against the law to call phone accounts from a cellular phone. And we’ll be monitoring you. Listen, buddy, we’ve got your M.O. We know you were a big-time bettor before your death. We’re not in business to lose money. Don’t think for a moment that we’re going to let you make money from our sportsbooks.
Sportsbettor: God almighty! Paralyzed for Eternity and no sportsbetting. This is Hell!
Steve DeSharme: Cheer up, buddy, We plan on bringing you some devil’s food cake every week. Ha, ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha…
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