Consider This

Regarding god(s) and what happens after we croak —maybe we get the god and afterlife we each deserve rather than the ones we want or imagine.

Here are some helpful examples:

Sick Dick Cheney
God? Hilary Clinton of course.

Afterlife? Cheney gets endless war but HE has to do the fighting—sunup to sundown every goddamn day. The day only ends early if he’s killed. He prays for death.

Proud Boys
God? Joan Baez, bien sûr.

Afterlife? In their Valhalla, they’re all 15 year old scared shitless white boys in a Jewish, Black neighborhood. They feel alone and afraid there’ll be payback for their ridiculous, bullshit, bullying opinions. In this world they MUST resolve all problems, imaginary and real, with peaceful, graceful diplomacy. If they fail, they’re locked alone in a small room where an endless loop of Joni Mitchell singing Lennon’s Imagine is played.
“Imagine all the people living life in peace.”
Yeah, there’s a lotta payback goin’ on.

Karens
God? A tall Black man who manages Saks, Bloomingdales, Neiman Marcus and any other store in which Karen consider shopping or just browsing.

Afterlife? Manager guy comes out of his office and follows her around the store. She complains and whines (as Karens do) but he doesn’t take an ounce of her crap. That AND he isn’t even vaguely diplomatic. Think Samuel Jackson in Pulp Fiction.

Alt Afterlife? She’s so poor (and obnoxious) that even her fellow residents in WhiteTrashLandia look down on her. She lives in a beat to shit trailer and is unable to get away with ANY snotty-ass, ridiculous bullshit.

Joel Osteen
God? Same as now but he/she holds Joel accountable for every damn time he fails to preach or follow the teachings in the New Testament. Think beatitudes plus easier for a camel…eye of a needle and all that.

Afterlife? Works in a down and out soup kitchen without the paparazzi giving him a bit of notice. He listens to everyone’s troubles and MUST be, or at least sound, genuinely empathetic—every minute of every day. Joel feeds the poor, destitute and desperate without a break. There’s no publicity or so much as a thank you. He lives in a small, run down studio apartment on the bad side of town which he shares with an unbathed meth addict.

The Former Guy
His god? Gloria Steinem who, of course, won’t give him the time of day except to lecture him on his shit behavior toward women. She also constantly reminds him that THIS is why he’s a 78 year old virgin.

TFG’s “reward?” He’s born into abject poverty. He’s friendless, without a single connection (good OR bad) and is a high school cafeteria worker, mocked endlessly by students. He has no hope of promotion because of his bad attitude.

Tucker Carlson
His Almighty? Jimmy Carter and Barack Obama—they trade days.

Afterlife? Having to attend press briefings every day. Jen Psaki laughs and fact checks each bizarre pile of shit out of his mouth and corrects him live, on camera. He MUST respond truthfully by telling her who’s paying him to lie or he dies painfully. This goes on daily. Some days he dies, some days he lives.

Inspired by Tom Holt’s book Valhalla.