An Open Letter to Mitch McConnell

On this blog, I like to poke fun at Mr. Mitch McConnell, Republican representative from the bizarro state of Kentucky. Tonight, however, I want to write a letter to Mr. McConnell to let him know that his life is no joke. It’s not funny. And when his body dies, he will learn just how horrible his life has been.

In today’s modern world, most people do not believe in the concept of Hell. A lot of atheists (you know, the “scientific” sect) think that when they die, it’s just the end — a cut to black, and no more consciousness, no more existence.

Odd how the scientific sect have suddenly stopped asking questions and settled on their own dogma, just like the religions they despise.

I won’t go into the physics of it here, as I have already addressed these issues in previous posts, but suffice to say that there is a very good SCIENTIFIC chance that consciousness survives in a new form after the death of the physical shell, symbolized by the caterpillar becoming the butterfly. Life may well be a chemical reaction, but a byproduct of that chemical reaction is a soul.

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You know I LOVE this quote!

In this world, change is the only constant, and YOU are your only judge. If you know you’ve been a shit person, then you will condemn yourself to the Hell concept, whatever your religious, agnostic, or atheistic beliefs. We ALL have an ego, or at least a sense of self, and we all have a perception of who we, as individuals, really are.

Mitch McConnell is a smart man. He must be, to have won his state seat for so many years in a row*. Therefore, he must be self-aware, and therefore, he knows what he has done.  And no amount of cognitive dissonance can protect him as he sees it reflected back at his conscious mind in the media every damned day.

He is the man for whom the concept of Hell awaits.

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“So, see, THIS is how you strangle a baby because it is a recipient of welfare… AFTER you’ve forced the molested pre-teen mother to give birth!”

Now we need to consider the concept of Hell. Most people think they are aware of what Hell is. We say things like, “Ugh, this week was Hell!”

No, it wasn’t.

We say things like, “Yeeehaaa! When I die, Hell won’t let me in ‘cuz they think I’m gonna take over! Because I’m such a bad-ass!”

No. Rest assured, Hell will let you in.

We say, “Hell’s gonna be full of party people like me, so bring it on!”

Yes, Hell will be full of party people like you. But you certainly do not want it to be “brought on.”

Most people never really contemplate the true state of Hell because it is just too terrifying. In the same way people never really like to think about the moment in which they will die. If you have ever really felt it — and I am talking about ego death here — you will know: It is truly gut-wrenchingly TERRIFYING.

Take heart here, though, as death — for the most part — really IS terrifying in that moment… but for most people, who just tried to live their lives with as little pain as possible, just trying to be as good as they could… the moment beyond death is not bad at all. Read my previous post about it. You, most likely, will be just fine.

Mitch McConnell (and those like him) on the other hand… let’s contemplate REAL HELL.

Hell is not Dante’s poetic vision of fire and devils and pitchforks and whiskey and hookers… Dante’s vision was never that at all, but this is what our modern media has turned it into in our upper, more simple, consciousnesses. If you actually read the book, it is a satirical allegory, part of a poetic trilogy entitled The Divine Comedy,  and REAL HELL is no comedy.

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Most definitely NOT Hell.

I hope Mitch McConnell is reading this, because this is truly what he faces:

Imagine being buried alive in a coffin.

REALLY imagine it.

You are lying flat on your back, barely room to move. You can lift your arms about four inches from your chest. When you raise your head, your forehead hits the wood.

Funny joke, right? “Okay, you got me. Now let me out!”

Thirty hours later. Ever spent 8 hours in an economy seat on a U.S. airline? Think 30 hours in that same seat. Now think of it in a fucking BOX. Your muscles are beginning to cramp from lack of movement. And it’s not totally dark, because what’s the fun in that? Somehow, there is illumination. You can see your predicament.

And the spiders.

Thousands of them, seeming to come out of the wooden walls of your narrow, unrelenting confine. webs spraying, egg sacks hatching, multitude of arachnid leg-fidgeting, and they begin to feed on your softer tissues. At first it itches.

Then it burns.

It burns like fire.

You thrash, you kick, but you can’t move more than a few inches in any direction. You feel the arachnids burrowing fang-first into your most sensitive areas. Your struggling has made you short of breath. You inhale, gasping for air.

You are buried alive, and there isn’t enough air to fill your lungs… only the gossamer spider webs strung about your head.

You feel like you are having the mother of all asthma attacks, wheezing, sucking in more air… but as I said, there is not enough air, so instead, you suck in more spider webs… and the egg sacks suspended in them. And they hatch.

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Like this, only billions more. Forever.

Now you are webbed up, wheezing, suffocating, and you feel the baby spiders inside your lungs, nibbling away, slowly devouring you from the inside out.

And did I mention the heat? It is so HOT in this burial box of yours! So, so hot… you feel like you are in an oven, unable to move or breath as generation after generation of fire-spiders web up your orifices and devour you, tiny, tiny bits at a time…

You feel like you will roast to death! But this is Hell.

There is no death.

This is your existence forever.

Gasping. Choking. Sweating. Spiders.

Screaming. Shrieking. No sleep. No break. No reprieve.

ETERNAL.

And this is what Mitch McConnell will be in… what? Ten years? How ancient is that decrepit old tortoise? And so hated… SO hated…

The world will rejoice.

He will shriek into the webbing clotting his throat as he roasts forever.

And ever.

AMEN.

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Like this, Mitch, but crawling with generation after generation of fanged arachnids, and buried alive in a BOX. Forever. Do you think a Tuesday afternoon from 1:00 to 5:00 is a long time? HAHAHA! Try 110 YEARS! And that’s not even a beginning, because you can’t have a beginning without an END. FOREVER, you son of a bitch. FOREVER!

Wow, I enjoyed that so much, I forgot this was an open letter TO Mitch.

Hi, Mitch.

Senator McConnell.

I just wanted to let you know, this is the path you have elected. You will be IN REAL HELL in 10, maybe 20 years if scientific miracles abound (and your GOP will see to it that they do NOT). And how fast are those years rolling by you now? Your time is up, and when you die, I will repost this so that some of the living will think about where you are — where you put yourself.

Where you deserve to be.

And you know it.

HELL IS REAL. You’ve made it yourself.

Be the example we all need right now and SUFFER FOREVER, you old, decrepit creature of selfishness and greed, you hate-breeding toad.

SUFFER.

 

PS: Fuck you.

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*Or maybe Kentuckians are just really, REALLY, R  E  A  L  L  Y (!) fucking STUPID.

2 thoughts on “An Open Letter to Mitch McConnell

  1. Wow! Angry much? Don’t get me wrong. I think you are pretty close to on track with your definition of hell. And if anyone deserves hell, it’s that sanctimonious asshole McConnell. But could I please borrow your imagery and wrap it around that the lying, psychopathic, deeply sick president Donald Trump. Because he is endangering all the souls of America that have a brain. Because we are forced to go to bed every night praying that he drops dead overnight and begins his journey in hell. And surely that hatred will earn us some level of retribution from God after we die. But I don’t know how not to hate both of these men.

    Like

    • Thank you for the comment, Ms. Byrd. Yeah, it IS a pretty dark, evil post, and I had been thinking of deleting it, but… dammit, I liked the horrific imagery. I would be interested to hear your take on a post I just put up before I saw this, “An American Chat.” I’ll leave you with a quote from Leonard Cohen, “There is a crack, a crack, in everything… that’s how the light gets in.”

      Like

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