-Caveat Lector-

"The future's here, we're it, we're on our own". John Barlow and Bob Weir,
1982.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Sat, 4 Oct 2003 09:49:53 -0500
From: t
Subject: Hell

Date: Thu, 2 Oct 2003 07:14:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: xxxxx
Subject: Hell

While walking down the street one day, George "Dubya"
Bush is shot by a disgruntled NRA member. 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 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 ... 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 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 a really 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 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."

(In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, this material is
distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest
in receiving the included information for research and educational
purposes.)

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