While walking down the street one day, George "Dubya" Bush is struck by a large wheel of cheese that had fallen out the cargo door of SwissAir, flight 119. Sadly, George does not make it. His soul arrives in heaven and he is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.
"Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see Republicans around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in; I'm a believer," says Dubya.
"I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from the Man Himself. He says you have to spend one day in hell and one day in heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."
"But, I've already made up my mind; I want to be in heaven."
"I'm sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course; the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature a perfect 72 degrees. In the distance is a beautiful clubhouse. There is a Texas-style barbecue
featuring cloned cattle and genetically engineered corn.
Standing in the crowd are his dad and thousands of other Republicans who had helped him out over the years: Karl Rove, Rush Limbaugh, Dick Cheney, Jerry Falwell. The whole of the "Right" is here, everyone laughing, happy, casually but expensively dressed. They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at expense of tree huggers and liberals. They play a friendly game of golf, then eat cheesecake made from genetically engineered milk.
The devil himself comes up to Bush with a frosty drink and says, "Have a BGH milkshake and relax, Dubya!" "Uh, I'm watching my weight," says George, sadly.
"This is hell, son. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry, and it just gets better from here!" says Satan.
Dubya takes the shake and finds himself liking the devil, who is a very friendly guy who tells funny jokes and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like a Yale Skull and Bones brother with real horns. They are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it's time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Bush steps on the elevator and heads upward.
When the elevator door reopens, he is in heaven again and St. Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit heaven," the old man says, opening the gate.
So for 24 hours Bush is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured animal rights activists and anti-milk folk, people who enjoy each other's company, talking about things other than money, and treat each other decently. Not a prank or frat-boy joke among them; no fancy country clubs and, while the broccoli and tofu tastes great, it's not steak. It's organic soymilk shakes and veggie burgers. And these people are all poor; he doesn't see anybody he knows, and he isn't even treated like someone special!
Worst of all, to Dubya, Jesus turns out to be some kind of hippie with his endless 'peace' and 'do unto others' jive.
"Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself, "Pat Robertson never prepared me for this!"
The day done, St. Peter returns and says, "Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and a day in heaven. Now choose where you want to live for eternity."
With the 'Jeopardy' theme playing softly in the background, Dubya reflects for a minute, then answers, "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this--I mean, heaven has been delightful and all -- but I really think I belong in hell with my friends."
So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to hell. The doors of the elevator open, and he finds himself in the middle of barren, scorched earth covered with leaking 55-gallon drums of Roundup-Ready herbicides, garbage and toxic industrial waste...kind of
like Gary, Indiana.
He is horrified to see all of his friends dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the industrial waste with teaspoons, and putting it in black bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with open sores, boils, and sooty grime. Then Lucifer comes over to Bush and puts an arm around his shoulder.
I don't understand," stammers a shocked Dubya. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and we ate a Texas barbecue. The cloned animals were tasty. We had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody seems miserable!"
The devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, "Yesterday we were campaigning. Today you voted for us."