St. Peter pounded on the terminal at his podium at the Pearly Gates. "Thank God I'm in Heaven where pounding on stuff actually makes things work." Then a newly arrived voice spoke to him.
"Dude! You need an upgrade - and I'm just the guy to do it."
"There is no upgrade to Heaven. This is the best and final version. It's you I ask: Are you saved?"
"You bet I am! Ain't nothing that can be pinned to me."
"But I see here on your record billions in currency was lost due to your deceptive practices. Environmental damage around the world. And various other ways you acted against the very users you were supposed to be supporting."
"Yes, but people got to share their photos! Nonetheless, I'm saved no matter what."
"How so?"
"It's right there in our Terms Of Service. I'm allowed to do all those things and get away with it scot-free."
The tech CEO grinned in complete confidence, waiting to have his cake and eat it too. St. Peter looked confused.
"I'm sorry, bro. We have Our own Terms Of Service here."
"What! You just can't force your own terms on people however you want! That's an outrage!"
"It's Our way or the highway. Do you insist on writing your own Terms Of Service?"
"Damn straight, I do! I'm not staying anyplace where I don't get to write the rules. Let that be a lesson to you."
"As you wish," remarked Peter as he yanked the lever for the trap door to Hell.






















