But enough of the polling data; hell is full of loaded questioners. Of course, they're a day at the beach compared with the conspiracy freaks, who are everywhere down here. These crackpots believe they're the victims of a plot to make them think they're in hell so they don't believe they're actually here. But believe me, everyone they come into contact with knows exactly where they are.

So I'm not going to mention a certain Earth date in 2001, because it's hot enough around here without giving those paranoid maniacs more documents with which to fuel the eternal hellfires. You know I have done everything I can for the dummy half of your Edgar Bergen and Joseph McCarthy act. You try conjuring a 91 percent approval rating for a human hat stand and tell me I didn't part the Red State Sea for you. You became so full of yourself, so full of your new powers to torture and disappear people, that you told Me that this over-funded yokel had the chops to be the Antichrist.

There's just one problem, fuckhead: the true Antichrist has to be popular. Were that not the case, you'd have had the job long ago. In what was an eye blink of time to Me, this nincompoop went from being enormously popular in America and a sympathetic figure to the rest of your world, to the bane of all humanity. Doing this while becoming increasingly impertinent is no small feat, but the Antichrist? If you'll forgive the expression, spare Me.

I have other plans for young W. Inhuman Resources at Halliburton has just hired Ken Lay as the company's new Chief of Afterlife Enterprises. Kenny Boy is personally overseeing the construction of the largest ring of hell ever built. It will be the combined size of all the aforementioned mega-slums, populated with like-mindless souls who will blend in well with your boy. But that's not all! The "W-ring of hell" will perpetually endure carpet-bombing, all while a Cat-5 fecal hurricane stalls over the area for an infinite number of eons. As ever, the lad will be stranded without an exit strategy — unless, of course, Brownie can figure a way to rescue him. (Fair is fair.)

Be of stout heartlessness, My servant. So what if your boy hasn't got the goods to be the Antichrist? There’s still plenty of fine talent out there forming search committees and announcing candidacies in your very country. In the meantime, the more I think about it the more I realize that you might best serve as a Great Fallen Leader. Like Ronald Reagan, who, when not busy fellating his pals in theWaffen SS, says the cutest things. Just yesterday I heard him remark, "Boy did I ever have it wrong! Death was a real eye opener for me!" I swear, you can't make this stuff up.

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