I SAW THIS WHILE DOING MY BACKING OF FILES..... AN OLD GEM. ENJOY IT. ************ HEAVEN AND HELL While on her morning ride on her broomstick, Prime Minister Julia Gillard falls off, has a heart attach and dies, because the ‘Accident & Emergency’ Department at her nearest hospital is too understaffed to treat her in time. So her soul arrives in Heaven and she is met by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. “Welcome to Heaven,” says Saint Peter. “Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a Socialist around these parts, so we’re not sure what to do with you.” “No problem, just let me in; I’m a good Christian; I’m a believer,” says the P.M. “I’d like to be able to just let you in, but I have orders from God. He says that since the implementation of his new HEAVEN CHOICES policy, you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you’ll be for eternity.” “But I’ve already made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven!” replies Gillard. “I’m sorry . . . but we have our rules,” Saint Peter interjects. And, with that, St. Peter escorts her to a lift and she goes down, down, down . . . all the way to Hell. The doors open and she finds herself in the middle of a lush golf course. The sun is shining in a cloudless sky. The temperature is a perfect 22 degrees. In the distance is a beautiful club-house. Standing in front of it is Gough Whitlam and thousands of other Socialist luminaries who had helped her out over the years: Bob Hawke, Paul Keating, etc… even Kevin Rudd! The whole of the Labor Party leaders were there (and all the socialists from other parts of the world). Everyone was laughing, happy, and casually but expensively dressed. The run to greet her, to hug her – except for Kevin Rudd who is still recovering from the stab wounds to his back !! They reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at the expense of ‘suckers and peasants.’ They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar. The Devil himself comes up to Gillard with a drink: ‘Have a tequila and relax, Julia!’ ‘Uh, I can’t drink anymore – I took a pledge,’ says Gillard, dejectedly. ‘This is Hell, Ma’am. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry, and it just gets better from there!’ Gillard takes the drink and finds herself liking the Devil, who she thinks is a really very friendly bloke who tells funny jokes like herself, and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like the ones the Labor Party pulled at the last election with their master strokes on Education, Immigration, National Broadband Network, Petrol prices, Carbon Tax, Mining Tax, Budget Surpluses, Solar Schemes, Health Broadband, Health Rebate . . . . They are having such a great time that, before she realises it, it’s time to go. Everyone gives her a big hug – except Rudd! – and she waves as she steps on the lift and heads upward. When the lift door reopens, she is in Heaven again and St Peter is waiting for her. “Now it’s time to visit Heaven,” he says, opening the gate. So for 24 hours Gillard is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other’s company, talk about things other than money and treat each other decently. Not a single nasty prank or short-arse joke among them. No fancy country clubs here, and while the food tastes great, it’s not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor. She doesn’t see anybody she knows and she isn’t even treated like someone special! ‘Whoa,’ she says uncomfortably to herself, ‘Gough Whitlam never prepared me for this!’ The day done, St. Peter returns and says, ‘Well you’ve spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now, choose where you want to be for Eternity.’ With the ‘Deal or No Deal’ theme playing softly in the background, Gillard reflects for a minute . . . then answers: ‘Well, I would never have thought I’d say this . . . I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all . . . but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends.’ So, St Peter escorts her to the lift and she goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. When the doors open she finds herself in the middle of a barren, scorched area covered with garbage. It is a toxic industrial wasteland, looking a bit like the eroded, rabbit and fox-affected Australian outback, but much worse and more desolate. She is horrified to see all of her friends dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the roadside rubbish and putting it into black plastic bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime. The Devil comes over to Gillard and puts an arm around her shoulder. ‘I don’t understand,’ stammers a shocked Gillard, ‘Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and we ate lobster and caviar and drank tequila. We lazed around and had a great time. Now there’s just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!’ The Devil looks at her, smiles slyly and purrs, ‘Yesterday we were campaigning; today you voted for us!’ ***** SOMEBODY WROTE THIS UP. I JUST DONT KNOW WHERE I GOT IT. IT LOOKS LIKE THERE ARE PEOPLE LIKE GILLARD THESE DAYS...
Posted on: Tue, 17 Jun 2014 17:35:44 +0000
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