Jesse Helms in Heaven: A (Very Rude) Fantasia

From the feverish imagination of the Rude One:

Jesse Helms in Heaven (A Fantasia)

Frankly, he was as surprised as anyone that he ended up in heaven. Jesse Helms had been sure that all the Christ-loving in the world wouldn’t undo the harm that he knew he had done: his support for El Salvadoran death squad leader Roberto D’Aubuisson, about whom he had said, “All I know is that D’Aubuisson is a free enterprise man and deeply religious;” his support for the apartheid government of South Africa and antipathy to the African National Congress and Nelson Mandela; his support of Augusto Pinochet during and after the revelation of the horrific abuses of the dictator’s regime. Yes, any of those actions, let alone his bigotry and hatred, should have meant that when his demented, crippled body finally gave out, his corrupt soul would have plunged immediately into the flames of hell for an eternity of being forced to give blow jobs to insatiable barbed-dick demons who’d plunge their spur-topped cocks so deeply into his mouth that they’d rip through the back of his head.

A man may say on earth that he is godly and wants to be embraced by Jesus, but in his heart, oh, in his heart, he knows what kind of man he really is. So, indeed, he thinks as he looks around at clouds and blue skies and halos and angels and peace, yes, yes, peace, what the fuck?

A darkie walks up to Helms, a polite-looking fellow, obedient even. “I’m sure you have questions,” says the darkie. Yeah, Helms says, where’s Jesus? When the darkie tells Helms that he is the son of God, Helms laughs. Niggers have such a charming sense of humor, always wanting to trick the white folk. “No, really. Look,” says Jesus, and he holds up his hands to reveal the wounds. “Want me to make some water into wine or some such shit?”

Helms recoils. Surely, this must be his dementia at work. But then things start to come into focus more and more. He sees white folk walking around with darkies of all sort: porch monkeys, towelheads, wetbacks, all of ‘em acting as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And then he notices how they’re not just friends, but also lovers. People of different colors kissing and holding hands, happy about it. Still, even worse, are the homosexuals, smiling and waving at the heterosexuals, the straights waving back, seeming, in a word, blissful.

Read the rest here. [Trust me, you DO want to read it all]

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