An American and a Russian, who have sinned much in their life, both die in a car accident and go to Hell at the same time. They are met at the gates by Satan, who offers them a choice: They can either go to American Hell or Russian Hell. Both new arrivals are curious as to what the difference is, so Satan explains that in American Hell you are free to do whatever you want; you'll find that we have all the finest amenities here in Hell, whatever your heart desires, you can find it here! However, you have to eat a shovel-full of manure each morning, but then you're free to do whatever you'd like. Russian hell is basically the same, but you have to eat TWO shovels full of manure before your start your day. The American is quick to choose American hell, but is flabbergasted when the Russian chooses to go to Russian hell. Several eons later the American bumps into the Russian and says "My Russian friend, Hell wasn't what I thought at all! Every day I play a round of golf on a beautiful golf course. I hang out with my friends at an amazing social club until late in the afternoon. I meet the most beautiful and charming women. Every night I have an incredible steak dinner at a Michelin Star restaurant. I honestly don't mind eating the shovel-full of manure in the morning anymore. I mean, it's no picnic, but you get used to it. One thing has bothered me all this time though, why did you choose to go to Russian Hell? Was it a mistake?" The Russian shrugs: "No mistake. This is Russian Hell, most of the time there is no shovel, and the rest of the time there is no manure!"

Naomi had a reputation for being nasty, which followed her all the way to the gates of St. Peter. “You said some pretty awful things to your husband,” says St. Peter. “Like when he bought that sharp-looking hat.” “I’m sorry,” says Naomi, “but that thing made his ears look enormous.” St. Peter shakes his head. “And the skinny jeans? He’s got the legs for it.” “I’m sorry,” she says, “but I can’t get past his bony knees.” He sighs. “And the beard? Big fans up here.” She shakes her head. “Look,” says St. Peter, “if you expect to get past these gates, we’ll need a genuine apology.” Naomi takes a breath. “I’m sorry.” “Good,” says St. Peter. “…but with feet like that, you really shouldn’t wear open-toed sandals.”