God's Bar and Grill

Two men walk into a bar.

"I'm taller than you. So I am closer to God."

"No," the shorter man responds, "I am closer to Earth, God's creation."

The bartender overheard their conversation. "Hey, relax. You're new here. No one is closer to God. We're all equal here. What'll it be? Beer? Whiskey? Martini?"

Tall man asks, "What's on the menu?"

Bartender responds, "Everything … in moderation."

Short man exclaims, "There's moderation in heaven? How the hell can there be moderation in heaven? I thought heaven means extreme happiness, forever."

"There's moderation in heaven," Bartender informs, "Extreme is in hell. Want something to eat. We got burgers, fries, salad, peanuts, Salisbury steak, fried chicken, pizza."

"You got oysters?" Tall man asks.

"No oysters. We're out of oysters."

"How can we be out of anything in heaven?" Tall man asks.

"Because it's God's Bar and Grill. It's what you wanted. They took a survey in 1800. If heaven could be what you want, forever, what would it be. Bar and grill won. Earth men like beer, charred meat, and shouting opinions about athletes and bureaucrats. This is it. The Earth section of heaven. Even the women voted for Bar and Grill. Gets the men out of the house."

"So," short man stated, in a tone of amazement, "we get to spend forever at a bar and grill?"

"Right. You want some popcorn?
Tall man speaks up. "You said something about this is the 'Earth section' of heaven. There are other sections? What does that mean?"

Bartender: "You remember when Jesus said, 'In my Father's house there are many mansions?' That was a hint. There are technological animals and intelligent beings all over the universe. Thousands. Everybody likes to have their own section. Birds of a feather flock together, and that stuff."

"Okay," short man says, "I'll have a pale ale and a half-pound burger, rare but nicely charred, with the grill marks, lettuce, tomato and pickled pepper. No onions."

"Coming up. Eight minutes. What'll you have my friend?" Bartender asks the tall man.

"I don't know. I'm thinking."

"No hurry," says Bartender, "We got all the time in heaven."

"By the way, what's your name?" Tall man asks.

"Pete."

A gorgeous woman walks in. Silver-blonde hair, blue eyes like blinking street lights, perfect proportions, skin made of cream, sleek tan jeans, pink furry sweater.

"Evening Mam," Pete says, as she strides by.

"Who's that?" Both men blurt. "She's hot."

"Of course she's hot. She's the mother of God. That, my friends, is Mary."

"Mary? You're serious? She goes to a bar?"

"Why not? She's the mother of God. She can do what she wants. This is God's Bar and Grill, but Mary's the boss. There is no power greater than the mother of God."

"Anybody ever flirt with her? That would be risky. No?"

"Yep. Couple guys tried. They got moved to the farm section."

"So there's a hierarchy in heaven? I knew it. There's always a pecker order."

"No. There's no hierarchy. Just categories. Just categories."

"What's my category? Mench?"

"More like 'munch.' Remember. When asked what would be your choice for heaven, you chose bar and grill. Count your blessings. But don't count the peanuts. There will always be more peanuts. We're in heaven." -end-