One day in the future, Barack Obama has a heart attack and dies. He immediately goes to hell, where the devil is waiting for him.

“I don’t know what to do here,” says the devil. “You are on my list, but I have no room for you. You definitely have to stay here, so I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ve got a couple of folks here who weren’t quite as bad as you.  I’ll let one of them go, but you have to take their place. I’ll even let YOU decide who leaves.”

Obama thought that sounded pretty good, so the devil opened the door to the first room. In it was Ted Kennedy and a large pool of water. Ted kept diving in, and surfacing, empty handed. Over, and over, and over he dived in and surfaced with nothing. Such was his fate in hell.

“No,” Obama said. “I don’t think so. I’m not a good swimmer, and I don’t think I could do that all day long.”

The devil led him to the door of the next room. In it was Al Gore with a sledge-hammer and a room full of rocks. All he did was swing that hammer, time after time after time.

“No, this is no good; I’ve got this problem with my shoulder. I would be in constant agony if all I could do was break rocks all day,” commented Obama.

The devil opened a third door. Through it, Obama saw Bill Clinton, lying on the bed, his arms tied over his head, and his legs restrained in a spread-eagle pose. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky, doing what she does best. Continue reading Obama’s first day in hell →