I, Satan, Wish to Publicly Distance Myself From Mitch McConnell

As the Prince of Darkness, I obviously pal around with a lot of unsavory characters. Jack the Ripper? We play canasta every Thursday. Emperor Nero? He’s a cool dude, lets me use his HBO Max log-in. But I want to make it crystal clear that at this time, I am unable to continue to condone the behavior of US Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell.

I am an Immortal Beast of The Damned, and although my blood is already literally boiling from the impossibly hot temperatures in the Kingdom of Fire and Ash, when I read Mitch McConnell’s statement on the death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, my blood basically evaporated. What is this guy’s problem?

I first met Mitch back in 1942 when he was belched out of the Bog of Eternal Damnation over in Hell South. At first, we hit it off. I thought he was an adorable little demonic turtle I could take under my wing and teach the Dark Ways of Evil. You know when people adopt a cute little teacup pig but then before they know it, it’s turned into a gigantic, uncontrollable, destructive hog? Well that was me and Mitch. I acknowledge there are photographs of me and Mitch at this time that have resurfaced on the internet, and people are accusing me of helping him in his mission to stomp out every last bit of justice and democracy in the United States. This is unequivocally false. Once I realized how bad he truly was, I booted him out of the nearest portal between Hell and Earth, which just happened to be Kentucky. People of Kentucky, I feel genuine remorse for that, and that’s saying something as I am also personally responsible for the despicable entree that is KFC’s chicken pot pie.

I am so tired of hearing people say they can’t wait for Mitch to go to Hell. Let me be perfectly clear: Mitch is not welcome in Hell. Yes, Genghis Khan is the president of the Hell Homeowners Association, but I draw the line at welcoming someone in here who is just going to be in favor of polluting Hell’s scenic Sulfur Swamps or denying healthcare to our team of hardworking succubi. 

Obviously, I do work with a lot of Republicans in my capacity as Ruler of All that Is Unholy, but Mitch makes my skin crawl. (Or rather, the layer of flaming red scales that I have instead of skin). I make a living by collecting souls in exchange for power, and I find that the current GOP members are generally the most cooperative and easily persuaded to roll with this arrangement. It’s just business. Hell’s strategic 50-year plan includes a specific wing dedicated to overcooking the soul of Ted Cruz on a spit like bad Texas BBQ. But, Mitch doesn’t even have a soul, and I got to be honest, that really creeps me out. Really the only use I have for him is using video recordings of his press conferences as a special form of torture.

I hope by coming forward, the name of The Devil, Destroyer of God and Man, will no longer be associated with the reprehensible evil that is Mitch McConnell. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to stick a red hot poker up Strom Thurmond’s backside.