One day God was hanging out at the Pearly Gates with St. Paul.
“I need to find someone to run for president,” he said after a while.
Attentive to his boss’ needs, St. Paul started naming off a few qualified candidates.
“Nah, I want that guy,” he said pointing to a drunken Texas governor pissing off a balcony.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said St. Paul, “Not only is he dumber than a box of rocks, he’s got drinking and drug problems.”
“I don’t care,” said God, “This is the guy.”
Perplexed, St. Paul asked: “What is the problem, Lord, art thou angry with the Americans?”
“No,” said God, “I made a bet with the Devil that I could get a village idiot to run for president.”
“But won’t that work in the Devil’s favor, oh Lord?” Paul asked.
“That’s all right,” said God, “he’ll never take Florida.”