"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is
a problem: We seldom see a Republican 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. Standing in front of it his dad and thousands of other
Republicans who had helped him out over the years: Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, Jerry
Falwell. The whole of the Right was there. Every one laughing, happy, and casually
but expensively dressed. They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the
good times they had getting rich at expense of the "suckers and peasants". They
play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.
The Devil himself comes up to Bush with a frosty drink, "Have a Margarita and
relax, Dubya!"
"Uh, I can't drink no more, I took a pledge," says Junior, dejectedly.
"This is Hell, son: you can drink and eat all you want and not worry, and it just
gets better from there!" Dubya takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil,
who he thinks is really 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 forced to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured
people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money, and
treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or frat boy joke among them; no fancy
country clubs and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. 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 Jewish 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 Saint 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 is in the middle of a barren scorched earth
covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste.. kind of like Houston. He is
horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking
up the trash and putting it in black bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain,
faces and hands black with grime. The Devil comes over to Dubya 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 lobster and caviar... drank booze.
We screwed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage
and everybody looks miserable!"
The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, "Yesterday we were campaigning;
today you voted for us."