privatizing paradise: herbert hoover #31 (1929-1933)

by Wesley R. Bishop

God appointed Hoover Secretary of Heaven’s Treasury before leaving on vacation. “Now Herb,” God said, “treat her well.” Hoover nodded in agreement. For a millennium, a short vacation for God, he rode the waves of new stars, lounged on the plains of an unnamed planet, and hang glided in a nebula. Returning to Heaven he couldn’t wait to see the Pearly Gates and streets paved in gold. No such sight awaited him. “What happened?” God asked as he ran through the now rusty gates, swinging lazily like a broken limb from a mutilated body. The pearls had been stripped, the streets of gold ripped up, mansions dilapidated and collapsing in on themselves like punctured lungs. “How is this possible?” Hoover looked sheepish in the corner. “I…tried.” Hell was now making all of Heaven’s products, the Angels had all been privatized, and speculation on harps had created a bubble. God walked away, shaking his head is disbelief. That night as God played dice with Einstein he asked, “What am I going to do? How did this happen?” “You took a chance,” Einstein said as he blew on the dice before rolling. “And I hate to burst your bubble but I don’t think you can only blame Hoover.” As the dice came to a rest, God watched hoping that the gamble would not produce snake eyes. Around him Heaven groaned, a now celestial Hooverville.

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