The Devil And Jimmy Hoffa Satan’s Interview With Missing Teamster Sets Record Straight
Satan: First off, I guess I should ask how you’re doing?
Hoffa: I’m doing just fine, Satan. Thanks for asking.
S: Can you set us straight on the whole death thing? How did it happen?
H: I learned a good lesson there. Don’t trust NO body. My buddy, Frank popped me right behind my right ear with a .38. I never saw it coming. The prick was supposed to be watching my back. We had a few drinks one afternoon out in West Bloomfield and were on our way to a meeting with a couple of union guys. Frank drove me to the West side and we went into this house, but nobody was there. The place was kind of a dump. I shoulda smelled trouble from the get go, but it didn’t really hit me until we got inside. Hit me. Get it? Ha ha.
S: So, for the record then, you are dead, are you not?
H: As dead as a fuckin’ doornail, Satan.
S: You know they’re digging up a farm in Milford, Michigan trying to find your remains. Will they have any luck?
H: I can’t understand why anybody even gives a fuck about me anymore. Like it’s gonna do any good now. I mean, I’m fucked. I’m down here in Hell, people. Hell. Let it go. But to answer your question, I doubt they’ll find anything. I mean there’s probably bodies buried all over that son-of-a-bitch McMaster’s farm, but I’m not there. After Frank shot me, he put another slug in my head just to make sure, then he hightailed it. Some other guys who I didn’t know came in and cleaned up the mess. You can kinda see all this as your spirit leaves, know what I mean?
S: I do.
H: Anyway, these guys chopped off my head and hands and put them in a pillowcase with some goddamn bricks in it. Giacalone ordered the hit and they had to show him my head to prove I was dead. Once he was satisfied, they dropped the pillowcase into Lake St. Clair. It’s still on the bottom over there. The rest of my body was tossed into the trunk of a junker and crushed at a steel recycling center on the Southwest side. I was rein-CAR-nated. Ha ha ha. As a CAR. Get it? Ha ha.
S: You seem to have a good sense of humor about it.
H: What the fuck am I gonna do at this point, complain? It is what it is. Things could be worse. Anyway, that one always gets a few laughs down here. Nixon really likes that joke. The bastard laughs every time I tell it.
S: So then, do you have anything to say to the people out there looking for your remains?
H: Give it up for Christ’s sake! It’s been over thirty goddamn years! There’s nothing to find.
S: Anything else?
H: I was real proud of the movie about me with Jack Nicholson. He did a swell job. Not quite as handsome as I am, but a good actor. One of my favorites. And that little DeVito guy did a good job, too. You almost forgot he was a midget in that one.
S: He directed the movie, too, you know.
H: No shit. He’s a talented little prick, isn’t he? Is he dead yet?
S: Not yet.
H: Any chance he’ll go to Hell?
S: He’s an actor. What do you think?
H: Ha ha hah. What was I thinking? Ha ha ha. ...(MARTY SHERMAN)
A.) Finally, now I can sleep at night. B.) I wasn’t paying attention. Does this have anything to do with American Idol? C.) I heard Jimmy used to beat his wife with a pipe wrench. And that’s when he was being nice.