Monday, May 21, 2007
The Fantastic Fall of Jerry Falwell
Satan and his minions were taken aback.
The new initiate into the Seventh Circle had made it in record-breaking time, cutting through the lesser circles like a hot knife through butter.
And there he was. The Reverend Jerry Falwell, the man who used his powerful pulpit to condemn gays and liberals and pro-choice advocates to eternal damnation, now found himself in the bowels of Hell.
“Surprise!” shouted Adolf Hitler.
'Welcome Jerry!” screamed Pol Pot.
“Glad you finally made it, dahlink!” cried Eva Gabor.
The Reverend looked confused.
“Excuse me, but there must be some mistake.”
Satan couldn't help but giggle. His chief of staff Idi Amin almost burst a gut.
“No mistake, pastor. We never make mistakes.”
Satan rose slowly from his thorny throne and approached the quivering Falwell.
“You sir, shall sit at my left hand,” intoned the Dark Lord, “for no one, in the past twenty-five years, has promulgated as much hate and fear as you have. I had reserved that special honor to Dick Cheney, but you beat him to the punch. Good timing.”
Jerry Falwell, stunned beyond measure, dropped to his knees. “But I've been a righteous man. I've done my best to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I should not be here!”
Satan howled. “Righteous? Try self-righteous. And it wasn't my idea to bring you here. I've always found you rather petty and insufferable.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“Jesus. He condemned you to Hell for belittling his people, for claiming that Jews could never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
Satan leaned in a little closer and bared his pointy teeth. “Here's a little secret, Jerry. Only Jews get to go to Heaven.”
“But not all Jews go to Heaven,” Roy Cohn chimed in.
The news was too much for Falwell to take. “You mean my whole life's been wasted?”
Satan smiled. “No, no. It's been a wonderful life. You've been doing my work for over fifty years preaching intolerance and prejudice. You made me proud. ”
“But that was never my intention.”
Satan reached down and picked up the fallen Falwell. “The road to Hell is paved with…”
Satan paused and grinned, then with the force of a hundred men, flung Falwell into a dark, fiery pit filled with rats and vermin and excrement and two former cast members of “Rowan and Martin's Laugh In.”
“We reap what we sow, Jerry,” Satan shouted. “Dinner's at six. You'll be sitting in between Caligula and Aaron Spelling.”
Meanwhile, in many parts of America, the celebrations continued.
The new initiate into the Seventh Circle had made it in record-breaking time, cutting through the lesser circles like a hot knife through butter.
And there he was. The Reverend Jerry Falwell, the man who used his powerful pulpit to condemn gays and liberals and pro-choice advocates to eternal damnation, now found himself in the bowels of Hell.
“Surprise!” shouted Adolf Hitler.
'Welcome Jerry!” screamed Pol Pot.
“Glad you finally made it, dahlink!” cried Eva Gabor.
The Reverend looked confused.
“Excuse me, but there must be some mistake.”
Satan couldn't help but giggle. His chief of staff Idi Amin almost burst a gut.
“No mistake, pastor. We never make mistakes.”
Satan rose slowly from his thorny throne and approached the quivering Falwell.
“You sir, shall sit at my left hand,” intoned the Dark Lord, “for no one, in the past twenty-five years, has promulgated as much hate and fear as you have. I had reserved that special honor to Dick Cheney, but you beat him to the punch. Good timing.”
Jerry Falwell, stunned beyond measure, dropped to his knees. “But I've been a righteous man. I've done my best to spread the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I should not be here!”
Satan howled. “Righteous? Try self-righteous. And it wasn't my idea to bring you here. I've always found you rather petty and insufferable.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“Jesus. He condemned you to Hell for belittling his people, for claiming that Jews could never enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
Satan leaned in a little closer and bared his pointy teeth. “Here's a little secret, Jerry. Only Jews get to go to Heaven.”
“But not all Jews go to Heaven,” Roy Cohn chimed in.
The news was too much for Falwell to take. “You mean my whole life's been wasted?”
Satan smiled. “No, no. It's been a wonderful life. You've been doing my work for over fifty years preaching intolerance and prejudice. You made me proud. ”
“But that was never my intention.”
Satan reached down and picked up the fallen Falwell. “The road to Hell is paved with…”
Satan paused and grinned, then with the force of a hundred men, flung Falwell into a dark, fiery pit filled with rats and vermin and excrement and two former cast members of “Rowan and Martin's Laugh In.”
“We reap what we sow, Jerry,” Satan shouted. “Dinner's at six. You'll be sitting in between Caligula and Aaron Spelling.”
Meanwhile, in many parts of America, the celebrations continued.
Monday, May 07, 2007
To Hell and Back with John McCain
Oh the excitement and suspense was palpable last week as the Republican candidates for President debated last night at the Ronald Reagan Museum!
Ten very white men squared off in a donnybrook reminiscent of Tyson-Holyfield II. Well, it seemed like that, because these rascals chewed my ear off for over ninety minutes.
Senator John McCain, hopped up on an odd mix of Red Bull and Cialis, came out swinging. In response to a question about whether it was prudent to focus so much national will and treasure on the capture of Osama “The Gingerbread Man” Bin Laden, the former POW took no prisoners. As President, McCain says “we will bring him to justice and I'll follow him to the gates of hell.”
He may have lost the debate right there.
According to most scholars, The Gates of Hell are very far away. To get there, one must drill to the core of the earth, through crust and mantle and a lot of molten magma. According to the Congressional Budget Office, chasing Bin Laden to those fiery gates could cost well over 4-trillion dollars. As a candidate who rails against budgetary waste and pork-barrel projects, McCain’s quest would bankrupt this nation, and, in his absence, all major White House decisions would be made by Vice President Imus.
McCain’s macho response begs an even bigger question: how does he know Bin Laden even wants to go to The Gates of Hell? Safely ensconced in some no-man’s land on the Afghani-Pakistani border, Bin Laden has no reason to go anywhere. Sure, if he had a chance, he might like to visit some relatives in Saudi Arabia or take a Princess Cruise to Anguilla. But The Gates of Hell? Why in heaven’s name would he ever want to go there? You can’t even find the place on Google Maps. I know. I tried.
Just for a moment, let’s suspend disbelief and pretend that Bin Laden, after seven years of travel, dialysis machine and three wives in tow, reaches the Gates of Hell, closely pursued by the doggedly determined President McCain.
Okay, they’re at the Gates. Now what? Does McCain challenge Bin Laden to a duel or to a boxing match? The diminutive Senator would be at a distinct disadvantage against the 6’5” Saudi. Yes, McCain is tough, but Bin Laden could easily flick away his lazy right jab. And let’s face it – McCain’s lost a step or two since 2000. He can’t dance around the ring like he used to. That’s why he has to dance with Jerry Falwell now.
Let’s keep going with this irrational scenario. Even if McCain could pummel or kill Bin Laden, who would know? Try getting cell phone service anywhere near Hell. “Can you hear Satan now?” No, you cant! McCain’s amazing feat of derring-do would go unreported for another seven years. Do you think the mainstream media would follow him on this quixotic quest and dare miss the Annual Correspondents Dinner, hosted, ironically, by Vice President Imus? No way in Hell.
By the time McCain got back to Washington, it would be 2022. He would’ve missed his entire presidency. Sure, Imus was effective in bringing down the deficit and in naming several nappy-headed hos to his Cabinet, but wasn’t it McCain who we elected in the first place?
Perhaps President Justin Timberlake will take pity on the now 85 year-old Arizonian and appoint him to a new commission, this one exploring the Giuliani administration’s failure to stop the terrorist attacks of 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020.
Ten very white men squared off in a donnybrook reminiscent of Tyson-Holyfield II. Well, it seemed like that, because these rascals chewed my ear off for over ninety minutes.
Senator John McCain, hopped up on an odd mix of Red Bull and Cialis, came out swinging. In response to a question about whether it was prudent to focus so much national will and treasure on the capture of Osama “The Gingerbread Man” Bin Laden, the former POW took no prisoners. As President, McCain says “we will bring him to justice and I'll follow him to the gates of hell.”
He may have lost the debate right there.
According to most scholars, The Gates of Hell are very far away. To get there, one must drill to the core of the earth, through crust and mantle and a lot of molten magma. According to the Congressional Budget Office, chasing Bin Laden to those fiery gates could cost well over 4-trillion dollars. As a candidate who rails against budgetary waste and pork-barrel projects, McCain’s quest would bankrupt this nation, and, in his absence, all major White House decisions would be made by Vice President Imus.
McCain’s macho response begs an even bigger question: how does he know Bin Laden even wants to go to The Gates of Hell? Safely ensconced in some no-man’s land on the Afghani-Pakistani border, Bin Laden has no reason to go anywhere. Sure, if he had a chance, he might like to visit some relatives in Saudi Arabia or take a Princess Cruise to Anguilla. But The Gates of Hell? Why in heaven’s name would he ever want to go there? You can’t even find the place on Google Maps. I know. I tried.
Just for a moment, let’s suspend disbelief and pretend that Bin Laden, after seven years of travel, dialysis machine and three wives in tow, reaches the Gates of Hell, closely pursued by the doggedly determined President McCain.
Okay, they’re at the Gates. Now what? Does McCain challenge Bin Laden to a duel or to a boxing match? The diminutive Senator would be at a distinct disadvantage against the 6’5” Saudi. Yes, McCain is tough, but Bin Laden could easily flick away his lazy right jab. And let’s face it – McCain’s lost a step or two since 2000. He can’t dance around the ring like he used to. That’s why he has to dance with Jerry Falwell now.
Let’s keep going with this irrational scenario. Even if McCain could pummel or kill Bin Laden, who would know? Try getting cell phone service anywhere near Hell. “Can you hear Satan now?” No, you cant! McCain’s amazing feat of derring-do would go unreported for another seven years. Do you think the mainstream media would follow him on this quixotic quest and dare miss the Annual Correspondents Dinner, hosted, ironically, by Vice President Imus? No way in Hell.
By the time McCain got back to Washington, it would be 2022. He would’ve missed his entire presidency. Sure, Imus was effective in bringing down the deficit and in naming several nappy-headed hos to his Cabinet, but wasn’t it McCain who we elected in the first place?
Perhaps President Justin Timberlake will take pity on the now 85 year-old Arizonian and appoint him to a new commission, this one exploring the Giuliani administration’s failure to stop the terrorist attacks of 2017, 2018, 2019, and 2020.
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