Now I feel bad for being so rude to telemarketers. Obviously they are actually loved ones calling me from Hell.
I knew all along. That's why my telemarketer calls always sound like this:
"How are you, Mr. Dunston?"
"Uncle Bob, is that you?!"
"Ummm... I'm calling from Capital One, and we've noticed that you're not using our credit protection program."
"This connection isn't great, Uncle Bob, but I want you to know, me and dad are totally taking care of your carving tools. I mean we don't carve, but we're going to pass it on to our kids and stuff."
"Wha-- uhh. Yeah, so this credit protection program can... It can end up saving you thousands of dollars."
"Look I can't really make out what you're saying at all. But umm. Aunt Jane's fine. She's not dating anyone or anything. She's um.. I think she's still real hot for you."
"What?"
"Yeah. I'm ah, sure she'd be all over your corpse if it wan't for laws and stuff. And germs.
"Sir, please. That's disgusting."
"So yeah, I'm sorry you're in hell and all. I guess you shouldn't have killed all those people."
"Sir!"
"Okay so um. I'll talk to you later, Uncle Bob. Try to avoid the flesh hooks and all. Uncle Bob? Hello?"
There's no denying the existence of hell. The best you can do is try to get on the Do Not Call list.