I will say that I have seen these jokes flying around like mosquitoes after a rainstorm. Usually it isn't so much a joke about Fidel Castro so much as a joke about how awful communism is as a school of economic thought.
At any rate, here are two of them. Fidel dies and goes to heaven, and Fidel dies and goes to hell.
Seeing that I live very close to Miami and the Miami Herald is (still) an excellent newspaper I bring you first:
Fidel Castro Dies And Goes To Heaven
Castro
finds himself at the pearly gates. St. Peter is there, surprised to see
him. He says, "Fidel, you've done so many awful things in your life,
how did you get here?"
Castro says, "It was the Pope. He blessed me and told me I must have been chosen by God, so I was certainly going to heaven."
"Chosen by God? No, that can't be right. Why would he say that?"
So Castro tells him the story:
"When Pope John Paul visited Havana in 1998, I personally welcomed him, and invited him to tour the city. We rode in the Popemobile, and since it was a warm day, he opened the roof.
Everything was fine until we reached the Malecón, when suddenly a gust of wind blew up and swept the Pope’s zucchetto off his head and out into the sea. There it floated, bobbing on the waves.
“Don’t worry, Your Holiness,” I exclaimed, “I’ll get it for you!” I jumped over the side of the Popemobile, leaped over the seawall, and sped out over the water. Yes, I actually walked on top of the water, all the way out to where the zucchetto lay floating on the waves. Then I turned and dashed back, still skimming over the surface, leaped over the seawall, and jumped back into the Popemobile, without getting a drop of water on his clothes. “Here, Your Holiness,” I panted.
"And that's when he blessed me."
Saint Peter is obviously having a little trouble believing this, so he calls God over and asks, "Do you remember this?"
God says, "I bless a lot of people. It's hard to keep track of them all." Then he looks at Castro. "Do you have any proof?"
"Proof?" Castro exclaims. "Of course I have proof! It was worldwide news!"
So God sends Peter down to Earth to go collect some newspapers from the day after, and sure enough it's on the front page of every last one.
In Granma, the Cuban Communist Party newspaper, the headline read “Fidel is Chosen by God; He Walks on Water.”
In L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper, the headline read “God Performs a Miracle: Makes Fidel Castro Walk on Water.”
And in the Miami Herald, read by the Cuban exile community in Miami, the headline read
“Fidel Castro Doesn’t Know How to Swim.”
And now, for the flip side of it all:
Fidel Castro Dies and Goes To Hell
Castro says, "It was the Pope. He blessed me and told me I must have been chosen by God, so I was certainly going to heaven."
"Chosen by God? No, that can't be right. Why would he say that?"
So Castro tells him the story:
"When Pope John Paul visited Havana in 1998, I personally welcomed him, and invited him to tour the city. We rode in the Popemobile, and since it was a warm day, he opened the roof.
Everything was fine until we reached the Malecón, when suddenly a gust of wind blew up and swept the Pope’s zucchetto off his head and out into the sea. There it floated, bobbing on the waves.
“Don’t worry, Your Holiness,” I exclaimed, “I’ll get it for you!” I jumped over the side of the Popemobile, leaped over the seawall, and sped out over the water. Yes, I actually walked on top of the water, all the way out to where the zucchetto lay floating on the waves. Then I turned and dashed back, still skimming over the surface, leaped over the seawall, and jumped back into the Popemobile, without getting a drop of water on his clothes. “Here, Your Holiness,” I panted.
"And that's when he blessed me."
Saint Peter is obviously having a little trouble believing this, so he calls God over and asks, "Do you remember this?"
God says, "I bless a lot of people. It's hard to keep track of them all." Then he looks at Castro. "Do you have any proof?"
"Proof?" Castro exclaims. "Of course I have proof! It was worldwide news!"
So God sends Peter down to Earth to go collect some newspapers from the day after, and sure enough it's on the front page of every last one.
In Granma, the Cuban Communist Party newspaper, the headline read “Fidel is Chosen by God; He Walks on Water.”
In L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper, the headline read “God Performs a Miracle: Makes Fidel Castro Walk on Water.”
And in the Miami Herald, read by the Cuban exile community in Miami, the headline read
“Fidel Castro Doesn’t Know How to Swim.”
And now, for the flip side of it all:
Fidel Castro Dies and Goes To Hell
There
he discovers that he has a choice: he can go to capitalist hell or to
communist hell. Naturally, he wants to compare the two, so he goes over
to capitalist hell.
There outside the door is the devil, who looks a bit like Ronald Reagan. “What’s it like in there?” asks Fidel.
“Well,” the devil replies, “in capitalist hell, they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives.”
“That’s terrible!” he gasps. “I’m going to check out communist hell!” He goes over to communist hell, where he discovers a huge queue of people waiting to get in. He waits in line. Eventually he gets to the front and there at the door to communist hell is a little old man who looks a bit like Karl Marx.
“I’m still in the free world, Karl,” he says, “and before I come in, I want to know what it’s like in there.”
“In communist hell,” says Marx impatiently, “they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil, and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives.”
"But… but that’s the same as capitalist hell!“ protests Fidel, "Why such a long queue?”
“Well,” sighs Marx, “Sometimes we’re out of oil, sometimes we don’t have knives, sometimes not even hot water…”
There outside the door is the devil, who looks a bit like Ronald Reagan. “What’s it like in there?” asks Fidel.
“Well,” the devil replies, “in capitalist hell, they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives.”
“That’s terrible!” he gasps. “I’m going to check out communist hell!” He goes over to communist hell, where he discovers a huge queue of people waiting to get in. He waits in line. Eventually he gets to the front and there at the door to communist hell is a little old man who looks a bit like Karl Marx.
“I’m still in the free world, Karl,” he says, “and before I come in, I want to know what it’s like in there.”
“In communist hell,” says Marx impatiently, “they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil, and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives.”
"But… but that’s the same as capitalist hell!“ protests Fidel, "Why such a long queue?”
“Well,” sighs Marx, “Sometimes we’re out of oil, sometimes we don’t have knives, sometimes not even hot water…”
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