Senator Claghorn's Final Vote

Senator Claghorn Meets St. Peter and the Devil

NOTE: I did not write this joke

although I confess to editing 
it a bit. My college classmate,
Sam Hopmeier, a loyal member of
the GOP, emailed it to me just 
now. Since this is an election 
year I thought some of you might
enjoy it.

One day recently, U.S. Senator Beauregard Claghorn of South Carolina tragically dies of heart failure while getting a happy ending to a massage at his favorite K Street spa down the street from Jack Abramoff's place. His soul arrives in Heaven shortly and is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gate.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see such a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in," says the Senator.

"Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."

"Really, I've already made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," says the Senator.

"I'm sorry, but we have our rules" replies St. Peter.

And with that, St. Peter escorts the Senator to the elevator and he descends to the depths of Hell. The doors open, and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and lobbyists and other Senators and staffers who had worked with him over the years.

Everyone seems very happy. Led by his old pals, Jack Abramoff and Ken Lay, he's introduced on the first tee to someone who resembled Dick Nixon by virtue of his a five o'clock shadow, Bermuda shorts and black shoes with long socks held up by garters. Claghorn is surprised also to see his old friend Rev. Jerry Falwell. They all greet him warmly, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had getting rich while simultaneously serving the people, well, at least one percent of the people.

They play a friendly game of golf, counting all but a few of their strokes, down a few mint juleps and then dine on lobster and caviar washed down with Dom Perignon.. After dinner the Devil brings in some really good looking young women. One of them uncannily resembles Monica Lewinsky to whom Claghorn is introduced by the Devil with a wink. Claghorn thinks to himself, "The Devil is a really friendly guy, nothing like the way he was described by my old friend and supporter, Rev. Falwell." The Devil joins in the spirit of the festivities and makes sure everyone has an attractive young lady on his lap. They're having such a good time that before the Senator realizes it, it's time to go.

Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves as the elevator doors close. Monica snaps her thong and winks seductively. The elevator rises and the door re-opens at the Pearly Gate where St. Peter is awaiting him.

"Now it's time for you to visit Heaven." Twenty-four hours pass with the Senator joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing "Down By the Riverside" and "We Shall Overcome" along with the Cherubim and Seraphim. They're having an okay time, but Claghorn misses the action from the previous day. Before he realizes it, the 24 hours pass, and St. Peter returns.

"Well, then, you've spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven. Now you may choose where to spend eternity."

The Senator hesitates briefly and replies, "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell with Jack and Dick and and the rest of the boys." (In deference to what he assumed were St. Peter's sensibilities, he didn't mention Monica.)

Without further ado, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator, and Claghorn descends again to Hell.

The elevator doors open and Claghorn looks out upon a barren landscape covered with waste and garbage. A hot wind blew into his face.

He sees Dick and Jack and and his old pal, Ken Lay, and many other departed friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls from above. Monica and the other women from his previous visit are nowhere to be seen.

The Devil comes approaches the Senator and puts his arm around his shoulder.

"I don't understand," stammers the Senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced with some good looking women. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage, and my friends look miserable. And Monica has disappeared. What happened?"

The Devil smiles and says, Yesterday

we were campaigning. Today

you voted!

It's a Joke, Son

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Comments 9 comments

Stacie Naczelnik profile image

Stacie Naczelnik 8 years ago from Seattle

I've read this one before, but it is definitely worth sharing.


JamesRay profile image

JamesRay 8 years ago from Philadelphia

This hysterical. And very, very accurate.


William F. Torpey profile image

William F. Torpey 8 years ago from South Valley Stream, N.Y.

Great joke, Ralph. Of course it reminded me of the old Fred Allen radio show and "Allen's Alley," where Sen. Beauregard Claghorn practiced his hilarity. What is it George says ... You can fool some of the people some of the time, and, er, you can't fool me again?


Ralph Deeds profile image

Ralph Deeds 8 years ago Author

Tnx for the comments.


Mike Cazabon 8 years ago

I've seen this in an apolitical version. Either way it works. I can't quite express frustration with the Dems for not impeaching the current regime and putting them on trial for treason. I'd visit D.C., if this spring, the trees sprouted this administration's players swinging from their branches!


Ralph Deeds profile image

Ralph Deeds 8 years ago Author

Ha! You know I'm not apolitical. So I re-wrote it and tightened up the grammar a bit.


IĆ°unn 8 years ago

bait indeed. :p


Harvey Stelman profile image

Harvey Stelman 5 years ago from Illinois

Ralph, I knew from the beginning it was an old joke. I even tell it sometimes. Never did I think it went back to 1945. I guess that's when "Time" was a good-true magazine. H


Ralph Deeds profile image

Ralph Deeds 5 years ago Author

I go back pretty far. Just a little updating of an old joke.

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