Step inside my waiting room. It looks a little crowded but that's because the turnover is quick here. When you do have your name called go to whatever room interests you. The themes were all chosen by a designer so we don't care or reach any conclusions by your choice. Once there, you'll be joined by a paraplegic woman who just returned from the convention of her peers (the place was crawling with pussy). She'll take an instagram of your biorhythms and I'll join you thereafter and shrink the black hole you find your ideas migrating towards so that your answer will be the one that works, not mine. It's a little like the dentist who is sought because he cures TMJ and it was just a quirk. The promise of rapture is as good as rapture could be and you still get to watch Netflix and eat kielbasa and eggs right in your dining area. Death makes our fragile existence more precious because it is finite and pulling answers from out of the abyss is remixing a good ballad with thunderous downbeat so that the crazy man you're chained to gets all chubby. It's a worthwhile experience and insurance covers it eliminating the need to have to call Adam Cunthair. Sign you up?