Jon Shaeffer, the frontman of the band Iced Earth, is the first to plead guilty to the Capital Riots. He’s also in the far-right group Oath Keeper, which honestly, I’ve never even heard of before.
Have I lost a step? And please, be honest with me. I can’t help thinking that if this had happened 10 years ago, it would have been me pleading guilty to the Capital Riots.
I blame the Damn Yankees. We’ve all gone broke and have been practicing for our “big comeback.” If I wasn’t so busy with those idiots and my stupid guitars, it would have been me at that riot, and that would have done more for my record sales than any pathetic Damn Yankees reunion. Does anyone even know more than one song by us?
What I find the most troubling is that if I was off about this, maybe I’ve been wrong about everything–the thinly veiled bigotry, racism, sexism, animal cruelty, everything.
I know I’m going to hell regardless, but if there’s any way to redeem myself in whatever time I have left, please let me know what to do, and I’ll do it, as long as I get to keep using the crossbow. I’ll only kill animals to eat or sell, I promise.
Boy, this is really embarrassing, but I didn’t even realize you were still alive. Our records say you died in a stage collapse back in 1990, and that your soul is currently rotting in Hell. You look like a zombie and smell like carrion, so I’m inclined to think the clerical error is on your end. I’ve tried updating your Wikipedia page with the correct info, but the monitors won’t give me clearance. Apparently, I’ve been banned for editing the Hinduism page to say that it was a false religion with silly gods that look like they stepped off the set of Peewee’s Playhouse. It was just meant to be an April Fools prank, but those assholes don’t have a sense of humor. I mean the Wikipedia monitors, not the Hindus or their gods. Shiva’s a real cut-up, actually. Anyway, I couldn’t fix the problem, so it looks like you’ll have to wander the Earth as an undead monster until the End Times. The Apocalypse is meant to start any day now, but I keep having to push back the date because the whole plan revolves around my second coming, which can’t happen until I knock up AOC and she gives birth to “Me.” Unfortunately, she’s been too busy to return my calls. I had hoped her schedule would clear up once Biden was in office, but I guess there are still problems to fix. It’s always something, right? I’m no chump, though. I’ve made up my mind to pick someone else if she doesn’t get back to me within 20 years—30, tops. I realize that, for an undead ghoul, 30 years can feel like 3,000, but you’re just going to have to be patient like everybody else.
To answer your question about redemption—technically, you’re already dead, which means it’s too late. Sorry. Better luck next life.
Ha. “Better luck next life.” As if reincarnation isn’t the silliest concept ever.
Hearing that you’re still alive answers a lot of questions for me. The biggest thing is that John Wayne was being tortured twice as much as everyone else because half the time I walked into his cell, I thought he was you. He’d be like, “But you already shoved a rattlesnake up my ass today,” and I’d be like, “what are you talking about? That wasn’t you this morning, that was Ted.” And then I’d shove another rattlesnake up his ass. Looking at pictures of you two side-by-side, I realize you don’t look anything alike. Also, The Duke died over 40 years ago. To make it up to him, I promised I’d torture you twice as much once you got here. Maybe I’ll even let him help.
In addition to the rattlesnakes, your torture will include having to watch as Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer gather up all your guns and burn them in front of you while George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and the rest of the slave-owning Founding Fathers take turns firing muskets at your pecker. I’m still not sure how I’m going to use John Wayne. Since you’re both homophobic, maybe I’ll trick you into fucking each other. I figure if I dress you both up to look like Marilyn Monroe while you’re sleeping, and then put you together in a room without mirrors, it’ll only be a matter of time before you’re going at it like jackrabbits. Once the pants come off and you realize that you both have raging boners, you’ll be given pistols to shoot yourselves and/or each other. This might sound like a wacky plan, but it worked on Strom Thurmond and Antonin Scalia. Of course, I had to abandon the project once they started enjoying the gay sex. We’ll see if that happens with you and The Duke.
Have an uncomfortable question? Need some advice about your deviant behavior? If so, then it’s time to pray. Email your question to email@example.com, and it shall be answered in a Divine Advice column by Jesus and Satan.