HUMOR: The senator chooses whether to live in heaven or hell

By David McElroy · March 31, 2012

While walking down a street one day, a U.S. senator was hit by a bus and died. His soul arrived at the gates of heaven, where he was met by St. Peter.

“Welcome to heaven,” St. Peter said. “Before we let you settle in, it seems there’s a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, so we’re not sure what to do with you.”

“No problem,” the man said. “Just let me in.”

“Well, I’d like to,” said St. Peter, “but I have orders from higher up. What we’ll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you’ll be allowed to choose where to spend eternity.”

“Seriously? Then, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven.”

“I’m sorry, but I have my orders,” St. Peter replied.

And with that, St. Peter escorted him to an elevator and the senator went down — down, down and father down — to hell. The doors opened and he found himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance, he saw a fancy clubhouse. Standing in front of it were all his old friends and other politicians who had worked with him in days gone by.

Everyone seemed very happy.

They were all dressed nicely and having a great time. They ran to greet him, shake his hand and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the taxpayers. They played a friendly game of golf and then dined on lobster, caviar and champagne.

Also present was the devil, who seemed like a very friendly guy, a sophisticated being who had a good time dancing and telling jokes. They were having such a good time that he didn’t even notice that it was time for him to visit heaven.

Everyone in hell gave him a hearty farewell and waved while the elevator took him up to heaven. The door reopened at heaven, where St. Peter was waiting for him.

“Now it’s time to visit heaven.”

So 24 hours passed, with the senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp, singing and worshipping the Almighty God. They had a good time and — before he realized it — the 24 hours had gone by and St. Peter returned.

“Well now, you’ve spent a day in hell and another in heaven. It’s time to choose your eternity.”

The senator thought for a minute and then he answered.

“Well, I never would have said this before,” he started. “I mean, heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.”

So St. Peter escorted him to the elevator and he went back down to hell.

When the doors of the elevator opened, he was in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He saw all his friends dressed in rags, picking up trash and putting it into black bags as more trash fell from above.

The devil came over and put his arm around the senator’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand,” stammered the senator. “When I was here yesterday, there was a golf course and clubhouse. We ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne and danced and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?”

The devil grinned at him.

“Yesterday,” the devil said, “I was campaigning. Today, you’ve already voted.”

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Meet my new girlfriend. Her name is Meg. And she’s my little sweetheart. A couple of months ago, a neighbor across the street told me about a new stray in the neighborhood that she and I were both soon feeding. The cat had been very skittish about contact and she had a lot of scabs and parasites in her fur, but a trip to the vet last week revealed that she was otherwise in good health. The vet estimates her to be 1 to 2 years old. I named her for Meg Murry, the 13-year-old protagonist of Madeleine L’Engle’s wonderful book, “A Wrinkle in Time.” (Please read the book. Don’t watch the horrible movie.) Since we lost Lucy almost a year ago, it seems appropriate that we finally have a new little girl to join the household. She’s already captured my heart, but Alex, Oliver and Sam aren’t there quite yet.

There’s nothing socially acceptable that’s as dangerous as drinking alcohol. Most people grow up being told to “drink responsibly” — and all of us see people abusing this drug in one way or another — but the truth is that drinking alcohol is always a terrible risk. The alcohol in these drinks is toxic and the human liver has to work hard to filter the toxins out. What most people don’t realize is that alcohol is classified as a known carcinogen by the World Health Organization — because of the well-established connection between imbibing and various cancers. Many people have taken refuge behind the idea that light or moderate drinking might be safe, but a new study shows that drinking even one drink a day increases the risks of 10 types of cancer. When I was a teen-ager, I looked around and saw the negative effects that this behavior had on a lot of people and decided not to start drinking, so I’ve never even tried this poison. The evidence keeps piling up that I was lucky to have come to that conclusion early.

It hasn’t happened yet, but there’s a possibility that I might be taking in a fourth feline. A couple of months ago, a cat-loving neighbor asked whether I’d seen a “tuxedo cat” hanging out in the neighborhood. I hadn’t, but this guy eventually wandered past my house a few weeks later — and we haven’t been able to find evidence that he has a home. I’ve been giving him water and food for the last week and he finally let me pet him two nights ago. He’s purred for me two nights in a row and he let me take a low-quality selfie with him Thursday night. Tonight, though, he let me pick him up and bring him inside to look around. This went surprisingly well, as you can see from this photo. I don’t know whether he’ll be joining the family, but I’m certain that Alex, Oliver and Sam would vote no, at least until they get to know him. I’m trying to make certain he doesn’t have a home, but if he does join us, what do you suppose his name will be?

It turns out that the radical far left has been training “Antifa cats” to sabotage anything important to Donald Trump. Everything he did was perfect. Honest. It was all the cats’ fault. Arrest all the cats! This is the latest of my ridiculous satirical shorts. Please go watch it. Then “like” it and subscribe. Please. I’m begging you. (Too much?) Although a couple of the previous videos have had views in the hundreds, most have still been seen by fewer than 20 people. So I seem to be having trouble letting people know that page exists.

Here’s the latest of my ridiculous parody shorts. It crossed my mind Tuesday to wonder what a slick and fast-talking car dealer might do right now to try to turn the high price of gasoline to his advantage. So I conceived of a fat and lovable character who tried to sell cars that don’t use any fuel — and then I started wondering if it would be funnier if all the characters were felines. Designing the King Cashpaw character took about four hours, but the rest took only another four hours, so this was a relatively quick piece that virtually wrote itself. I know it’s almost impossible for these parody videos to find a larger audience, but at least they amuse me — and there are 19 of them on my YouTube page now. The first few were very limited, but they’re getting more complex.

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