Grand Ole Afterlife

Alas--unattributed.

One day in the future, the Commander-in-Chief, as must we all, expires...shuttles off his mortal coil...passes on to the next incarnation.

He goes straight to Hell where The Devil is waiting for him. With a clipboard.

"I don't know what to do," says The Devil. "You’re on my list, but I have no room for you. You definitely have to stay here, so I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I've got some folks here who weren't as god-awful as you. I can let one of them go--but you'll have to take their place."

"Tellya what I'm gonna do--I'll even let you decide who leaves," The Devil concludes.

The Commander-in-Chief concluded this was fair--although he'd have preferred to run it by the VP--and then agreed to The Devil's proposition.

The Devil opened the first room.

In it was Ronald Reagan and a large pool of water. The former President kept diving in and surfacing empty-handed—over and over and over. Such was his fate in Hell.

"No,” said the Commander-in-Chief, "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 next room. In it was Richard Nixon with a sledge hammer and a room full of rocks. All he did was swing that hammer, time after time after time.

"No, 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 the Commander-in-Chief.

The Devil opened a third door. In it, the Commander-in-Chief saw Bill Clinton, lying on the floor with his arms staked over his head and his legs spread-eagled. Bent over him was Monica Lewinsky doing what she does best.

The Commander-in-Chief took this in and, after the usual 2.7 seconds careful consideration prior to making an important decision, announced: "Yeah! I can handle this one!"

The Devil smiled and said: "OK, Monica, you're free to go."