In hell you can never find the staple-eater except when you're looking for the stapler, and if you've just seen the stapler you're looking for, all you can find is the staple-eater.

Especially when you're in a hurry.

in hell, you have to cold call.

In hell, all the cats are Siamese.

In hell, Muzak is piped in everywhere nonstop.

hell:it's a bulletin board

In hell there are no curved lines.

in hell, nobody holds your hand.

In hell there's no stairway to heaven. No free bird, either.

but millions of bics or zippos!!

In hell, only one of two political parties ever win and they are both the same. Wait, hold on!

we live in the eternal hope that the promising-sounding usernames we see signing up each day are The Sparkly & Shiny Ones, come to save us from one-another. but our hopes are dashed time and again as they always turn out to be spam mongers.

In hell you you can't be saved.

In hell every fortune-cookie contains only spam.

In hell Oreo cookies taste like Brussels sprouts.

There may be people who would like that.

I wish them the joy of it.

.

Naturally, except for those who like Brussel sprouts. They are in for a completely unexpected sensation burning in their mouth.

In hell there are plenty of gullible folks who want to believe it when some charlatan convinces them that, if they do as he says (usually involving an exchange of money, freedom, and/or power), there is a better life waiting for them after they fry.

^That sounds like heaven for the charlatans.

In hell, every itch one gets is always on unsratchable places.

In hell, everyone is required to have one root canal performed each week -without novocaine.

Unscratchable in the sense that one simply cannot reach them, or in the sense that they're in places one cannot scratch in polite company? Still, how polite could the company be, in hell? So it must be in places where one simply cannot reach them.

In hell people keep asking questions about what you've been clear about, and then go on to conclude that you were right all along.

In hell, we can never find the tweezers.

In hell, you walk around with a huge boner all the time, and every time you try to touch it some imp bites your hand off, but every once in a while a demon will come along and reach out and grasp it and for a moment you think you're going to get some relief and then he rips it off and throws it into a pit and you scream until you look down and see it has all grown back and you have a huge boner again, and when you try to touch it to reassure yourself of your old friend, imps come by and bite your hands off again.

In hell, you somehow always end up saying the opposite of what you actually want to say.

In hell all grant requests are a day late no matter how early you submit them.

Until, one day, it doesn't. When that time comes you're required to sing out loud all of your requests in a falsetto voice which makes everybody turn their backs on you.

Hell has no poets.

The only ice-cream stand in hell sells unusual flavours... They make you burn slowly from the inside, too.

in hell, it's always allergy season, and there are no kleenex.

In hell, the shortage of kleenex is due to the fact that it became the basic material for food-processing industries. All food is made of tissue paper and tastes like it, too.

In hell no one judges The Dictionary Game

in hell, there are only ill-fitting brassieres.

In hell your cup chafes so bad you take it out -- and instantly a foul tip catches you in the nuts.

in hell, you've lost your 3-iron.

In Hell if you misbehave they say you will suffer for eternity on Earth if you don't shape up.

in hell you have a lot of work to do the next day so you try to be good and get to sleep at 10 only to wake up again at 1:30 in a panic because it's spring and you've left the houseplants outside and it might be too cold for them and then you get up and find that it's not that cold after all and now you're awake in the middle of the night and you've got no idea what to do with yourself.

so you bring the houseplants in anyway.

every night.

In hell, every purveyor of junkmail knows where you live.

In hell, every purveyor of junkmail knows where you live.

In hell every other time you post something on a message board it double posts.

In hell, you get shat on by some pigeon every day.

In hell you don't get breakfast, continental or otherwise.