I work in downtown Chicago, just a few short blocks from the famous retail establishment, Marshall Fields, affectionately known by insiders as simply, “Fields.” In order to access the stairwell leading to the Red Line “El” train, passerbys must -oddly enough- pass by an individual who stands in front of Fields every single week day with a crackly amplifier and a poor quality microphone preaching loudly and passionately about the sinful ways of mortals. His sermon never changes and he always admonishes those whom he spots smoking that, “THERE ARE NO CIGARRETTES IN HEAVEN!” This assertion is followed by a related concept: “THERE ARE NO WHISKEY BOTTLES IN HEAVEN!”
Well, my question is simply this: What the hell is the point of a heaven like that?