Not shades like sunglasses or those things you pull over windows. This is Shades. Pronounced like “shay dees”.
Let’s face it, if you are reading this and there really is a hell, chances are, we’re all meeting up one day. I’m not saying y’all are evil or anything, but depending on the religion, there are some pretty stringent rules about getting into heaven. I’m pretty sure I blew my shot around 1984.
But I’m not all bad. I mean, I am mostly not bad.
As long as we can forgive profound impatience, a penchant for swearing, and maybe a few other things I’m not talking about.
I don’t think that I would deserve the true fire and brimstone of hell. I get that it’s hell and it’s not supposed to be paradise, but I think it’s fair that for those of us not quite good enough to get into heaven, but not bad enough for hell, should get to go to Shades.
Shades: More cool than Jimmy Buffet’s restaurant chain Cheeseburger in Paradise, but just barely.
That’s what Shades is, a big, never ending chain restaurant. There are jukeboxes everywhere with every song ever played in all the history of time. Remember, Shades is forever, so we can listen to music for eternity. Well, we could if the jukeboxes worked. None of them work. We can scan through the lists of songs, but we can’t play them.
Shades is hell lite, but still hell.
There are televisions there too, but they only play the red wedding scene from Game Of Thrones on a loop. Forever.
There is booze, because we might not have been perfect, but we weren’t monsters. The booze gets watered down though and our hangovers never quite go away. Also, you have to watch the bartenders because they pick their noses and stick their fingers in the drinks. Still. Booze. It’s eternity, booger fingers or not, we’re gonna want to cop the occasional buzz.
The chairs are made of iron and it’s hot in Shades, not hell hot, but hot enough for the chairs to leave a mark.
The iron will be twisted into Barry Manilow lyrics, so you have the words to Mandy or I Write The Songs backwards on the backs of your thighs and your back.
Also, don’t ever order the quesadillas. The middle part is always ice cold. Unless you want to use the quesadillas to soothe your Barry Manilow thighs.
There will be trivia night once a week, but the questions are about economics, tax laws, and bowling.
So, Shades will suck, because it’s sort of hell, but there won’t be torture or anything. Well, unless I sing. That would be torture for everyone around me.
Your time spent won’t be all bad. We’ll probably get super sick of jalapeno poppers after the first ten thousand years or so, but at least we won’t be on fire. And just because the jukebox doesn’t work, doesn’t mean we can’t sing. Or, hang out with people who can sing. I have some friends who are amazing musicians and there is no way they aren’t ending up in Shades.
Anyway, when we all get to Shades, look me up.
I’ll be singing Me and Bobby McGee and holding a quesadilla against the backs of my thighs.
Not everyone will end up at Shades, though. For instance, people who pay women to pretend they’ve been raped to attempt to discredit actual rape victims for the purpose of getting a pedophile a senate seat.
Those people can go straight to hell.
This was based entirely on another meme Randy made. He’s a weirdo, but he’s my weirdo.