President Ronald Reagan Enters Into Heaven

Originally I wanted to commemorate the death of Ronald Reagan with a poem. My first idea was to modify an existing poem, similar to the way I used black_mn4u's "The Hot Maid." An early candidate for adaptation was a poem by Vachel Lindsay called "General William Booth Enters Into Heaven." Here's one stanza to give you an idea:

Ronald led boldly with his big bass drum
(Are you washed in the blood of the poor?) Hallelujah
Hitler smiled gravely, and said "He's come."
(Are you washed in the blood of the poor?)

The more I thought about that idea, the less I liked it. First, it's not particularly funny (Hitler smiled gravely? Washed in the blood of the poor? And who ever heard of Vachel Lindsay?). Second, it's not particularly creative, is it? Any jackass can take somebody else's work and change a few key words for a joke; citing the author might make it honest, but it doesn't make it any less lazy. On the other hand, an original poem takes a lot of time and effort. Even if I was good at writing poetry (which I am decidedly not) I could never write an original poem quickly enough to make it a part of this week's posthumous media blowjob. I decided to try something else.

Another idea was a series of quotes and facts about President Reagan and his impact on our country, but I decided that was dull. Nobody wants to read how many millions of people were unemployed in 1984, or that George Kennan thought Cold War policy delayed rather than hastened the fall of the Soviet Union (I do have this one really great quote where Governor Reagan wondered how many redwood trees a person needed because they all look the same).

So I slapped together the following 100% fictional scene, a meditation on how conservatives, soulless assholes by nature with no pity for anyone in their stone hearts, deal with the death of one of their own. Enjoy!

Anne Coulter comes home from a long hard day of yelling at her ghost writer to discover her seven year old child, Taylor, in front of the TV weeping.
"Oh what's wrong, honey?" says Anne, in that husky man-voice of hers.
"Mommy, what happens when you die?"
"Honey, is this about President Reagan?"
"Yes," sniffs the buck-toothed little mouth breather.
"Well baby, President Reagan has gone to a much better place."
"Heaven?"
"Yes, that's right. Remember when we talked about heaven?"
"No," sniffs Taylor.
"Well we did. And I told you that in heaven there aren't any poor people."
"Where do the poor people go mommy?"
"To hell, dearest little boy. And where do the Jews and the homosexuals go?"
"They go to hell too?"
"Yes, that's right, along with most of the Negroes. And there are no Communists or Muslims in heaven, so it's very peaceful. And everyone has a lot to eat and pretty jewelry to wear, and nobody tries to make them feel guilty about it or share."
"Sharing is bad, isn't it mommy?"
"Yes sweetie, sharing is for liberals."
"Will we go to heaven?"
"Surely, sweetpea. So I don't want you to worry about President Reagan. He is with God, and he is finally able to understand what happened while he was President."