Satan writes Pat Robertson a letter….. [penned by a Lily Coyle of Minneapolis, if you believe that.]

[ I found this letter from Satan to Pat Robertson in the course of my Media Underworld Browsing earlier today. Actually it’s purportedly from a “Lily Coyle in Minneapolis” but I happen to know that “Lily Coyle” is a thin disguise much employed in the nether regions –NO Lily-of-the-Valley, I can tell you. And it is COMMON KNOWLEDGE that Minneapolis is little more than a glorified First Circle of Hell.

Who are they kidding???

Nonetheless, here is the “Lily Coyle” Minneapolis-Missive. I would say she takes Old Pat to task pretty effectively, for his misplaced deal-with-the-devil denunciations, especially when you consider that gathering of Bankers in DC last week (–all claims of “Doing God’s Work” notwithstanding.)

Watch this space for any Robertson Response.

[Herewith, the Lily Coyle letter:]

Dear Pat Robertson,

I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action.

But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished.
Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”?
If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it — I’m just saying: Not how I roll.
You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Best, Satan

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