As it must come to us all, Mitt Romney eventually passes away. Moments later, his soul arrives in heaven and 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 wealthy man such as yourself around these parts, so we’re not sure what to do with you.”
“No problem, just let me in,” says Romney. “I’m wearing my magic underpants!”
“Uh, please leave your underwear out of this conversation. All right, I just received orders from on high: what we’ll do is have you spend one day of Earth time in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.”
“Really? Wow! Well, I’ve made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,” says Romney with something near enthusiasm.
“I’m sorry, but I have to follow my orders.”
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and sends Mitt down, down, down to hell.
The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a gorgeous golf course on a beautiful sunny day.
In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all the friends, politicians and sports team owners he had known in life. Everyone is very happy and wearing evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had back on Earth, while getting rich at the expense of the suckers.
The group took Mitt into the country club’s five-star restaurant where they dined on lobster, caviar and the finest champagne. Also present was the Devil, who Mitt is surprised to discover is a very kind, charming gentleman, full of humor and affability — definitely one of Mitt’s social class.
They are all having such a good time that before Romney realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises, shouting they hope Mitt will decide to come back and join them.
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens in heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him, “Now it’s time to visit heaven…”
Then a day of Earth time passed with Romney amid a group of joyful souls laughing, singing and playing music together, but uptight Mitt feels uncomfortable around these peace-and-love hippies. The food is good and plentiful, but not exactly lobster and caviar; the clothing comfortable, but not haute couture, and there are no servants. He is just an average man up here, his wealth meaningless, and his old Republican Party pals are nowhere to be found. Mitt has a terrible time as the 24-hours grind by until St. Peter returns.
“Well, you’ve spent a day in hell and a day in heaven. Now you must choose where you will spend eternity.”
Romney reflects for a minute, then answers: “Gee, I never thought I would say this — I mean heaven has been okay — but I think I would be better off in hell.”
So, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell…
The doors of the elevator open and he’s in the middle of a barren land covered with stinking garbage. Romney is shocked to see all of his old friends from the GOP and Bain Capital, and even sports team owners, dirty and dressed in rags, moaning in misery, picking up the reeking trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls to the ground faster than they can pick it up.
The Devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.
“I don’t understand,” stammers Mitt. “Yesterday I was here and there was a beautiful golf course and luxurious country club, and we ate lobster and caviar, and drank champagne, and had a wonderful time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends are groaning in misery. What the heck happened?”
The Devil smiles at him and says, “Yesterday we were campaigning. Today, you voted.”
To which Romney replies with a knowing grin, “Look, I’m really rich — how much will it cost me get back to heaven?”
