Not happening, says Prince of Evil In news from the religious fringe this week, noted charismatic Jennifer LeClair predicted that the Prince of Darkness had it in for recently Christianized pop singer Kanye West, while Paula White, newly hired advisor to the White House, prayed aloud that Trump would be kept safe from demons although she did imply that most of those demons were on the House Intelligence Committee.
Paula preaches the Prosperity Gospel, which holds that you will get rich if you send her all your money, thus surpassing the original Christian concept that strained credibility the most, the Virgin Birth. Kudos to Paula for that, and congratulations on getting the White House job.
Jennifer, who still works in the private sector, and has previously held forth on the Seven Signs Witches Are Attacking You (they include excessive dandruff and tinnitus) fears that Satan will murder Kanye West, despite the Evil One’s reputation for not doing humankind any favors.
Not willing to get my news secondhand, I drew a pentangle on the floor of the garage and placed a candle at each point. I didn’t have any blood of an unbaptized male child handy—the girl threw it out, thinking it was a bottle of spoiled ketchup—so I put a box of Cheez-its at the center of the pentangle, knowing that Satan loves Cheez-its.
He immediately appeared in a cloud of ash, which coated the garage thoroughly. Next time Skype, I thought to myself.
“Hell, no,” he said sincerely, in between mouthfuls of snack food. “Got a glass of ice water? Just leave the pitcher by me. I don’t want to kill anybody. Killing people was His idea in the first place, remember? The whole everybody’s-got-to-buy-the-farm concept was alright at first—there weren’t that many people and slashing at their departed souls with pitchforks gave my imps work.
“Then came the USA, God’s favorite nation. You know why that is? Because almost no Americans go to Heaven. He’s got to let Jimmy Carter in, but anyone can see He’s even putting that off. The rest of you are addicted to either Internet porn or opioids, or both. Every time one of you people dies, you add to the line to get into the Pits of Perdition. It’s starting to be the DMV of all eternity. Inside, it’s just too crowded. We’ve had to buy space heaters for some of the far corners just to keep them respectably warm.
“Of course, Trump and Kanye are going to Hell—why should they be any different? But I’m putting it off for as long as possible. I do send demons after Trump, but that’s only so they can insert Satan’s Stents into his arteries while he sleeps off his latest cheeseburger binge. Otherwise his heart would have stopped in Stormy Daniel’s arms. And now that Kanye’s formed an attachment to Jesus, I want him to live as long as possible. Christ just texted me the other day about it--Dear Me, he is just so icky. I’d rather be hugged by a fetus—which amuses me to no end. So, I don’t want to see Kanye here anytime soon. And neither does Biggie or Tupac.
“What Hell’s scientists are really working on is the live-forever pill. Yeah, I put them in the lowest circle after they invented the boner pill—didn’t that backfire spectacularly? I promised each one of them an afternoon at a Tastee-Freeze, though, if they can come up with a live-forever treatment.
“That would solve all my problems.”
Paula preaches the Prosperity Gospel, which holds that you will get rich if you send her all your money, thus surpassing the original Christian concept that strained credibility the most, the Virgin Birth. Kudos to Paula for that, and congratulations on getting the White House job.
Jennifer, who still works in the private sector, and has previously held forth on the Seven Signs Witches Are Attacking You (they include excessive dandruff and tinnitus) fears that Satan will murder Kanye West, despite the Evil One’s reputation for not doing humankind any favors.
Not willing to get my news secondhand, I drew a pentangle on the floor of the garage and placed a candle at each point. I didn’t have any blood of an unbaptized male child handy—the girl threw it out, thinking it was a bottle of spoiled ketchup—so I put a box of Cheez-its at the center of the pentangle, knowing that Satan loves Cheez-its.
He immediately appeared in a cloud of ash, which coated the garage thoroughly. Next time Skype, I thought to myself.
“Hell, no,” he said sincerely, in between mouthfuls of snack food. “Got a glass of ice water? Just leave the pitcher by me. I don’t want to kill anybody. Killing people was His idea in the first place, remember? The whole everybody’s-got-to-buy-the-farm concept was alright at first—there weren’t that many people and slashing at their departed souls with pitchforks gave my imps work.
“Then came the USA, God’s favorite nation. You know why that is? Because almost no Americans go to Heaven. He’s got to let Jimmy Carter in, but anyone can see He’s even putting that off. The rest of you are addicted to either Internet porn or opioids, or both. Every time one of you people dies, you add to the line to get into the Pits of Perdition. It’s starting to be the DMV of all eternity. Inside, it’s just too crowded. We’ve had to buy space heaters for some of the far corners just to keep them respectably warm.
“Of course, Trump and Kanye are going to Hell—why should they be any different? But I’m putting it off for as long as possible. I do send demons after Trump, but that’s only so they can insert Satan’s Stents into his arteries while he sleeps off his latest cheeseburger binge. Otherwise his heart would have stopped in Stormy Daniel’s arms. And now that Kanye’s formed an attachment to Jesus, I want him to live as long as possible. Christ just texted me the other day about it--Dear Me, he is just so icky. I’d rather be hugged by a fetus—which amuses me to no end. So, I don’t want to see Kanye here anytime soon. And neither does Biggie or Tupac.
“What Hell’s scientists are really working on is the live-forever pill. Yeah, I put them in the lowest circle after they invented the boner pill—didn’t that backfire spectacularly? I promised each one of them an afternoon at a Tastee-Freeze, though, if they can come up with a live-forever treatment.
“That would solve all my problems.”
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