LENTAL SOUP :: After the Rapture Pet Care...

It's Lent, which means Catholics everywhere are ostensibly entering into 40 days of reflection and sacrifice while continuing to furiously masturbate behind closed doors (it's okay as long as we feel guilty afterward). To celebrate this somber season, we here at the TPC are bringing you a weekly report on the best the Christian World has to offer. This week, we investigate After the Rapture Pet Care. Get our full report after the jump.

For you heathen non-believers, the Rapture is a biblically prophesied event in which all the "saved" of the world will be taken up to Heaven in an instant -- poof -- just like that. Think of it like FlashForward, but without all the shitty writing and contrived plot points.

It's comforting to know that in the wake of global disaster, the FBI still has time to make poop jokes.

So anyway, there are people out there who actually believe in the Rapture -- people who believe that one day they're going to wake up, and abracadabra, they're on the express train to Jesus Town. Just like FlashForward (we really wish there was a better show to reference, really we do), such an event would result in massive global devastation. If you're a believer, no worries; you long gone.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are stuck down here dealing with the fall out from having millions people instantaneously disappear -- you know, train wrecks, car crashes and planes falling from the sky because Captain Sully got drafted by the Saints. While it's been rumored that Christian airline pilots are always paired with non-Christian ones just in case, it's apparently not true. (Why the fuck not?)

Bet they wish Jesus was their co-pilot.

The Rapture is kind of like Jesus' final fuck you to all us unfaithful atheists, secular humanists, and religious folks who bet on the wrong horse (i.e. Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists). In case you missed the memo, JC decided to dispense with all the peace and love for the Second Coming. Jesus 2.0 is kind of a dick.

So faced with the impending Rapture, the first question any good believer asks is: "What will happen to my pets after I'm gone?" Enter, After the Rapture Pet Care. For $9.95 a month, ARPC will ensure that you pet is safely looked after when you're raptured, because, apparently we'll have nothing better to do in the post-Rapture devastation, but look after your stupid fucking cat.

Immediately, several questions arise:

1) You non-believer friends are not good enough to get into Heaven, and we're good enough to take care of your dog? First of all, fuck you, buddy. We don't want to take care of your damn pets. We're going to be too busy going to pansexual orgies and gay-marrying aborted fetuses to give a shit about feeding Fido.

2) Second-of-ly, you're going to trust non-believers with your pets? Don't forget; we're godless heathens. Chances are, we're going to be bringing them along to said pansexual orgies.

3) Also, why don't animals get raptured? Are there no dog parks in Heaven? No Lolcats? If you ask us, that doesn't sound like Heaven at all. And wait a second, Pios Pam; you mean to tell us that you never baptized your goldfish? (He's already in water; you're halfway there.) And you never married the dog and the cat. Have they been living together in sin this whole time? If you ask us, thinking you're a lock Rapture roster seems a little presumptuous.

No, Mr. Boots, no you can't.

By now, you're probably wondering how someone managed to cook up an idea like After the Rapture Pet Care. A quick read of ARPC's website explains the origins of this fantastic idea:

"In the fall of 2009, a non-believer friend of mine named Carol brought up a question: 'Hey, if you get raptured, what happens to Petey?' It was an excellent question, and I didn't have an answer. [...] A couple weeks later Carol came back and suggested we start After The Rapture Pet Care together. She said she had asked several Christian friends the same question she'd asked me, and every one of them would pay for a service to ensure the care of their pets after the Rapture. I had also asked some fellow Christians their thoughts. In every case they wished there was a way to prepare for their pets' survival."

We know what you're thinking, "This is a scam, right?" Probably. But if you ask us, Non-believer Carol is a fucking genius who's figured out how to fleece all of her dumbass Christian friends out of $9.95 a month. Brilliant! And here's the best part: even the believers acknowledge that the Rapture might never happen in their lifetime. And they're still willing to pay. Here's the even better part: if your pet dies, you don't get any money back. And they're still willing to pay.

So basically, these people are suckers on multiple levels. They spend their whole lives believing (and hoping) that at some point Jesus is going to wiggle his nose like Samantha Stephens, and they'll be beamed up to that big Church social in the sky. And then, they shell out 10 bucks a month to make sure their pet is cared for when they go? These are probably the same people who actually held Windows 7 launch parties. It's just sad, really.

Why can't someone rapture these lame-asses?

To be fair, Catholics don't buy into the Rapture thing. They have their own convoluted end of the world scenario. True to Catholic form, it involves being judged, persecuting the Jews, and fighting a war for 1,000 years. (If it ain't broke...)

Apparently, the notion of being called up to Heaven in a flash is a little too kooky for the Caths. And yet, meanwhile magical cannibalism makes perfect sense. This raises another interesting doctrinal question: if the Eucharist is technically human flesh, can you eat it on Fridays during Lent? (And what about all the vegetarian Catholics?) ...Questions for another post, we suppose.

Still, we're inspired by this business model. How can we get us some of that some of that sweet, sweet Christian cash? Maybe, we can provide a service where we get paid to update believers' Facebook pages.

That'll be $9.95, please.

Next week: We go fishing with the Catholic Church. ...TPC.