Lord How We Miss Ya, Jerry...

Last Thursday marked the one year anniversary of the passing of Jerry Falwell.

I feel a duty to his memory to not let it go unscathed uncelebrated.

I asked God if I could do an interview with the Reverend Falwell, the Holy Honcho said that Jerry wasn’t exactly “nearby”.

Being the blessed old SOB that he his, however, G-Dawg gave me a phone number where I could reach Falwell.

Always the cut up, God said to me, prior to attending to a pre-scheduled, tectonic rattling of the Chinese landscape, “Matt-Man, consider this number a direct HOT-Line.”

So I called, and after a brief discussion on tax tips with Leona Helmsley who was running the switchboard, she put me through to Falwell…

Matt-Man: Reverend Falwell…Matt-Man here, how the hell are ya?

Falwell: Ahhhhh, Brother Matthew, I am basking in the light of the Lord…Amen.

Matt-Man: But aren’t you in Hell, Jerry?

Falwell: I cannot disclose that. But I will tell you that this place is hot, the meals consist of leper skin gruel, and the staff is currently redecorating a cell…er…I mean suite, for when Pastor Rod Parsley and Dick Cheney come to stay with us.

Matt-Man: Are you continuing to save souls in the afterlife there Jerry?

Falwell: Ohhh Brother Matthew…As soon as I arrived, I began to cure Hermann Goering of his homosexuality.

Matt-Man: How’s that workin’ out for ya?

Falwell: It was going fine, until last Tuesday, when Hermann allowed himself to be publicly sodomized by the Borgia family.

Matt-Man: Wow, that’s classic…did you take pictures?

Falwell: It was disturbing Brother Matthew, but kinda fun to watch a Nazi getting reamed by a group of greasy Spaniards. And who knew that Pope Alexander VI had such a huge schlong. I bet that left a mark. Ouch!!

Matt-Man: I have a few more ques….

Falwell: Oh I am sorry Brother Matthew, but it is time for my daily 4:15 burning at the stake…

Matt-Man: Sweet Baby Jeebus, that has to be painful, Jerr.

Falwell: It is, it is indeed. But it’s not as bad as when they extinguish the flames that engulf my body.

Matt-Man: Why is that?

Falwell: Attila the Hun, Henry VIII, and Joan Crawford drop trowel and piss on me until the fires recede. Brutal!!

Matt-Man: Well thanks for your time, Reverend.

Falwell: Anytime, Brother Matthew, and tell Joyce Meyer that I can’t wait to see her. I’m a huge fan.

And there you have it, my interview with the Jerr-Meister.

Have a lovely Monday, and as always…

Cheers!!

Preventing Matt-Phistopheles

I am a sinner. Yes, I know that may shock some of you.

But I am. We are all sinners.

But, I ask, why do we sin and or stray from the straight and narrow?

Maybe because some folks have no belief at all in Hell and the consequences of their transgressions.

Others?

Well, perhaps those who do believe in eternal damnation, still cannot fully comprehend an eternity spent adrift upon some ambiguous sea of fire.

Perhaps, if we defined the consequences of Hell in more tangible terms, people would be much less apt to sin.

For instance, I would be a much better person if I knew that if I sinned, my eternal consequences might result in any of the following:

*Engaging in a ménage a trois with Ann Coulter and Michelle Malkin.

All the while, a naked Bill O’Reilly stands in the corner singing “Born Free” into an amplified falafel.

*Spending eternity sitting in the front row at an Air Supply concert.

*Having an endless supply of bacon, mac ‘n’ cheese, and Wild Irish Rose presented to me, and my mouth has been sewn shut.

*Convexly, being force-fed an endless supply of bacon, mac ‘n’ cheese, and Wild Irish Rose, and my asshole has been sewn shut.

Every 48 hours I would spontaneously combust into a cloudburst of reddish-brown goo of Bagwine and fecal matter. Oy Vay!!

*Being strapped into a dentist’s chair and the dental assistant comes in and says, “Matt-Man, Dr. Stalin will be in shortly to perform your root canal.”

*I spend my time in bed with a half dozen nearly naked chicks with hot bodies. The problem?

They are in clown make-up. Their nipple pasties squirt vinegar.

And, when I get near their hoo-ha’s, I get hit in the face with a pie…

Literally, not metaphorically. Creepy.

So there you have it. These are some of the things that would straighten my ass out.

If I keep these consequences in mind, I will end up being just like Ferris Bueller, “A Righteous Dude.”

What would keep your base instincts in check?

Cheers!!