I’m usually not a fan of old jokes that have been re-written with a new cast. It’s fairly common, especially in the political realm, where the same jokes are repeated decade after decade with changes in the names to reflect the political leaning of the teller. I recently received an example of this, passed along by local activist Don Pratt. I’d seen the basic joke many times before, frequently starring a software mogul from Redmond. But whoever was responsible for the reincarnation of this one changed more than just a name. The whole story was changed to match the new character, in such a creative manner that I think it’s worth posting here.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
While walking down the street one day, George “Dubya” Bush is shot
\nby a disgruntled NRA member. His soul arrives in heaven and he is met
\nby St.Peter at the Pearly Gates.<\/p>\n
\n“Welcome to Heaven,” says St. Peter. “Before you settle in, it seems
\nthere is a problem: We seldom see a Republican around these parts,
\nso we’re not sure what to do with you.”<\/p>\n
\n“No problem, just let me in; I’m a believer.” says Dubya.<\/p>\n
\n“I’d like to just let you in, but I have orders from the Man Himself: He
\nsays you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must
\nchoose where you’ll live for eternity.”<\/p>\n
\n“But, I’ve already made up my mind; I want to be in Heaven.”<\/p>\n
\n“I’m sorry, but we have our rules.” And with that, St. Peter escorts
\nhim to an elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell.<\/p>\n
\nThe doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course; the
\nsun is shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature a perfect 72 degrees. In
\nthe distance is a beautiful clubhouse. Standing in front of it is his
\ndad…and thousands of other Republicans who had helped him out over the
\nyears: Karl Rove, Dick Cheney, Jerry Falwell…. The whole of the “Right”
\nwas there…everyone laughing…happy…. casually but expensively dressed.
\nThey run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had
\ngetting rich at expense of the “suckers and peasants”. They play a friendly
\ngame of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.<\/p>\n
\nThe Devil himself comes up to Bush with a frosty drink, “Have a
\nMargarita and relax, Dubya!”. “Uh, I can’t drink no more, I took a
\npledge,” says Junior, dejectedly.<\/p>\n
\n“This is Hell, son: you can drink and eat all you want and not worry,
\nand it just gets better from there!”<\/p>\n
\nDubya takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he thinks is a
\nreally very friendly guy who tells funny jokes and pulls hilarious nasty
\npranks, kind of like a Yale Skull and Bones brother with real horns.<\/p>\n
\nThey are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it’s time to
\ngo. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Bush steps on the elevator and
\nheads upward.<\/p>\n
\nWhen the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and St. Peter
\nis waiting for him. “Now it’s time to visit Heaven,” the old man says,
\nopening the gate.<\/p>\n
\nSo for 24 hours Bush is made to hang out with a bunch of honest,
\ngood-natured people who enjoy each other’s company, talk about things other
\nthan money, and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or frat boy
\njoke among them; no fancy country clubs and, while the food tastes great,
\nit’s not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor, he doesn’t see
\nanybody he knows, and he isn’t even treated like someone special! Worst of
\nall, to Dubya, Jesus turns out to be some kind of Jewish hippie with his
\nendless ‘peace’ and ‘do unto others’ jive.<\/p>\n
\n“Whoa,” he says uncomfortably to himself, “Pat Robertson never
\nprepared me for this!”<\/p>\n
\nThe day done, St. Peter returns and says, “Well, then, you’ve spent
\na day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live
\nfor eternity.”<\/p>\n
\nWith the ‘Jeopardy’ theme playing softly in the background, Dubya
\nreflects for a minute, then answers: “Well, I would never have thought
\nI’d say this-I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all-but I really think I
\nbelong in Hell with my friends.”<\/p>\n
\nSo Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down,
\ndown, all the way to Hell.<\/p>\n
\nThe doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren scorched
\nearth covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste.. kind of like
\nHouston. He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and
\nchained together, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. They
\nare groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime. The
\nDevil comes over to Dubya and puts an arm around his shoulder.<\/p>\n
\n“I don’t understand,” stammers a shocked Dubya, “Yesterday I was
\nhere and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and we ate lobster
\nand caviar… drank booze. We screwed around and had a great time.
\nNow there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks
\nmiserable!”<\/p>\n
\nThe Devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, “Yesterday we were
\ncampaigning; today you voted for us.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’m usually not a fan of old jokes that have been re-written with a new cast. It’s fairly common, especially in the political realm, where the same jokes are repeated decade after decade with changes in the names to reflect the political leaning of the teller. I recently received an example of this, passed along… Continue reading Recycled Joke<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-284","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-politics","entry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9mOtr-4A","jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/284","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=284"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/284\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=284"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=284"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.redhorse.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=284"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}