| Bill Gates Goes to Heaven Bill Gates dies in a car accident. He finds himself in purgatory, being sized up by St. Peter.
"Well, Bill, I'm really confused on this call; I'm not sure whether to send you to Heaven or ****. After all, you enormously helped society by putting a computer in almost every home in America, yet you also created that ghastly Windows '95. I'm going to do something I've never done before in your case; I'm going to let you decide where you want to go."
Bill replied, "well, what's the difference between the two?"
St. Peter said, "I'm willing to let you visit both places briefly, if it will help your decision."
"Fine, but where should I go first?"
"I'll leave that up to you."
"Okay then," said Bill, "Let's try **** first."
So Bill went to ****. It was a beautiful, clean, sandy beach with clear waters and lots of bikini-clad women running around, playing in the water, laughing and frolicking about. The sun was shining; the temperature perfect. He was very pleased.
"This is great!" he told St. Peter. "If this is ****, I really want to see heaven!"
"Fine," said St. Peter, and off they went.
Heaven was a place high in the clouds, with angels drifting about, playing harps and singing. It was nice, but not as enticing as ****.
Bill thought for a quick minute, and rendered his decision.
"Hmmm. I think I'd prefer ****," he told St. Peter.
"Fine," retorted St. Peter, "as you desire."
So Bill Gates went to ****.
Two weeks later, St. Peter decided to check on the late billionaire to see how he was doing in ****. When he got there, he found Bill, shackled to a wall, screaming amongst hot flames in dark caves, being burned and tortured by demons.
"How's everything going?" he asked Bill.
Bill responded, with his voice filled with anguish and disappointment, "this is awful! This is nothing like the **** I visited two weeks ago! I can't believe this is happening! What happened to that other place, with the beautiful beaches, the scantily-clad women playing in the water?!???
"That was a demo," replied St. Peter.
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