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A Conversation in the Afterlife Between Christopher Hitchens and Kim Jong-Il


Christopher Hitchens and Kim Jong-Il stand on a cloud. There's some soft harp music and, I dunno, some angels hanging around or something.

Christopher Hitchens: Where are we?

Kim Jong-Il: If I didn't consider religion the sigh of the oppressed creature, I'd say we were in heaven.

CH: If I didn't consider all religion a form of bawling and fearful infancy, I'd agree.

KJI: Wait, who are you?

CH: You must not know 'bout me. I'm Christopher Hitchens. I'm the finest essayist of the century, according to myself and maybe some other people. Who are you?

KJI: I am Kim Jong-Il, aka Dear Leader, aka Dear Leader Who is a Perfect Incarnation of the Appearance that a Leader Should Have, aka Sun of the Communist Future, aka Shining Star of Paektu Mountain, aka Guarantee of the Fatherland's Unification, aka Ever-Victorious, Iron-Willed Commander, aka Great Man, Who Is a Man of Deeds, aka Amazing Politician, aka Highest Incarnation of the Revolutionary Comradely Love.

CH: You're even shorter than I imagined.

KJI: Woah, you're right. Where did my platform shoes go?

CH: Maybe they don't allow platforms into heaven.

KJI: Then this must be hell.

CH: I visited North Korea once, and I've got to tell you, that place was no fun.

KJI: I mean, my life was pretty sweet. I got to look at things a lot. Also, weren't you a Trotskyite at some point?

CH: Shut up.

Vaclav Havel: Fuck both of you.

With a nod to Whim Quarterly's "A Conversation" series and a Vaclav Havel h/t to Kallen Law.

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