eports from the afterlife indicate the Reverend Jerry Falwell, who died last Tuesday after smelling one of his own farts, has indeed gone on to meet his maker, validating his lifetime of religious conviction. The reverend was, however, shocked and dismayed to discover this creator is, in fact, a large, friendly purple creature with a head ornament shaped like an inverted triangle, rather than the cloud-surfing white dude Falwell had been expecting.

Upon spying the return of his beloved son, whom God had not seen in over 73 years, the deity shouted an excited greeting of “Eh-Oh, Falwell!� before attempting to embrace the reverend, who recoiled in horror.

Eyewitness accounts indicate a stunned Falwell then began to shout Bible verse and incoherent, mouth-foaming nonsense. God immediately became frightened and confused, scurrying away while shouting “Run away! Run away!� Only after Falwell left could God be coaxed out for snack time.

Meanwhile on Earth, medical examiners attributed Falwell’s death to the reverend taking the holy vessel God had given him and crapping it all up with fatty foods and prescription medication.

One of America’s best-known religious figures, Falwell was famous for his amazingly untarnished record for being on the historically wrong side of every issue he ever addressed over the course of his long career. From segregation to civil rights, women’s rights, gay rights, and the rights of anyone who wasn’t exactly like Jerry Falwell, the reverend demonstrated an almost eerie ability to choose stances that would make him look ridiculously backward to future generations.

Falwell also set the bar unthinkably high with the sheer number of absurd public statements he made, and then later retracted, during his years as a spokesperson for America’s evangelical Christians. Decrying Archbishop Desmond Tutu as a phony, claiming that 9/11 was caused by feminists and lesbians, stating that AIDS was God’s punishment against homosexuals, questioning the sincerity of Martin Luther King, Jr., and claiming that the Teletubby Tinky Winky was gay because he had an inverted triangle on his head, carried a purse and was purple, all signs of homosexuality in the reverend’s feverish, confused nightmares.

In 1994, Falwell released a videotape called The Clinton Chronicles: An Investigation into the Alleged Criminal Activities of Bill Clinton, which inaugurated the “crockumentary� genre of filmmaking. Among other things, the film accused the president of smuggling cocaine, murdering journalists who got too close to the story, and being the devil. The film was voted 1994’s Worst Episode of Unsolved Mysteries.

Afterlife pundits suggest it may take years for Falwell to accept the truth of his origin, preferring in the meantime to blame his plight on the machinations of liberal angels or a Jewish afterlife conspiracy. Experts stress, however, that God will not hold Falwell’s convictions against him, and when the reverend is ready, he will know where to find God, sitting in the grass, playing and looking at bugs and stuff.

n Sunday, NATO and Afghan forces announced a new victory over rebel Taliban forces with the slaying of Taliban Commander Mullah Dadullah. More than that, NATO celebrated a personal landmark by killing the 34th consecutive Taliban Commander, the highest number of enemy forces commanders killed one after the other.

"Clearly we've demonstrated without a doubt that we can kill as many Taliban leaders as they can throw at us," said NATO spokesman Sgt. Buddy Means, as he and other NATO officials popped the cork on a bottle of wine at the Dead Taliban Commander impromptu party.

Dadullah was killed by Afghan police and army forces in Afghanistan's Helmand Province, with the help of NATO air support. He had been named head of the Taliban following the March 15th death of former Commander Zinzy Habullah, who himself had represented a then-record 33rd consecutive Taliban Commander killed, a blow that crippled anti-American Taliban forces well up to 72 hours, until Dadullah's promotion.

The Taliban, a militant Islamic group who had led Afghanistan until the U.S. invasion of 2001, as well as allegedly hid terrorist Osama Bin Laden within its borders, has since been a haven for anti-Western rebels and Democracy haters alike. Dadullah's death was described as a strike against the Taliban that will hinder the organization, and its biggest military loss since the last time NATO forces stuck it to them.

Afghan government spokesman Khaleeq Ahmad described the death of Dadullah as a military success that "will kill the morale of the [Taliban]." In a succinct summary of Afghanistan's response to the leader's death, Ahmad said, "We are happy he is not alive anymore. Before, when he was alive, we were distinctly unhappy. Since that had changed, there has been a net increase in our overall happiness. Previously, we in the Afghanistan were quite unhappy and we believe the Taliban was happy because we were not happy and he was still alive, which made him happy? Now? Not so much the happy for him and the Taliban. We, however, have experience a significant happiness gain."

"Killing one Taliban Commander was always a dream of mine," said director NATO forces in Afghanistan Gen. William Flampants Sunday. "But to kill 34? It's much more than I ever could have dreamed. And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that will get to the big 3-5 next!"U.S. general Myron Stofer described the 34th Taliban Commander killing as a "personal best," easily trouncing his previous record of 32 heads of the Iraqi insurgency.

Mullah Dadullah was preceded in death by former Taliban Commanders Zinzy Habullah, Shabba Nazuna, Rafullah Al-Badallah, Guella Transattah, Macho Kabala, Jhada Stantoplabada, Fozzy Boombozzi, Ginalla Walla, Dallah Polla Impala, Sadir Al-Funtallah, Shimi Shammy Al-Pajami, Fadabi Scradi Adi, Boomwati Al-Mahtalli, Bada Botta Bada, Grizallah Priscilla, Foolah Medulla Oblongata, Buntapa Al-Moppa, Zenyatta Mondatta, Faka Mata-Faka, Zahir Bin Lama, Tullah Donna Al-Galla, Paula Abdullah, Amir Batallah, Latka Gravas, Pinzalla Rapallah, Avatah Dudallah Dallah, Rama Bin Stattah, Allah Donbattah, Jadir Sufstata, Grallah Biz-Allah, Chad Perkins, and Famir Fallah Fallah Fallah. If you have a rhythmical name and would like to lead an anti-Western terrorist group, call the Taliban and apply immediately.

Once again we are celebrating the best kind of weekend, good people—a 4-day weekend. Is there anything better in the great scheme of things than having to work one day less than usual. Of course. There's the 4-day weekend. Praise be to whatever genius created this thing, having only three days of actual work at my job before another, if somewhat disappointingly short weekend, comes around. And there's always that one week when the commune was shut down for Red Bagel's circumcision—that was a sort of gloomy vacation, but the kid survived and our fearless editor was cleared of all charges. Still, I have an idea that will blows your socks all the way up to your hands so you look like a lazy puppeteer: The 368-day weekend.

Are you aware that 2007 ends on a Monday? Good people, this gives us an amazing opportunity to demonstrate that America still knows how to have fun. Let us take that weekend before the last Monday in 2007 and start the longest weekend the world has ever seen. A 368-day weekend! I'm not joking, I wouldn't even know how to joke about something like that, I take my weekends far too seriously. Do you know how many barbecues you could have in 368 days? How many exhibitions of dangerous fireworks? How many days you could mow the lawn, shirtless, enticing the female neighbors? Just think about all the nights you could stay up researching bus tickets to Albany until 3 in the morning, carefree about the stack of work waiting for you on your desk back at that miserable office?

Believe me, I love my job. If it wasn't for my job, I would feel I lacked definition, and had no purpose in the world. It's doing whatever it is I do that makes me who I am. Still, that aside, it's a soul-sucking, worthless, abysmal darkness having to work day-in, day-out. It saps the very will to live out of me thinking of the things I love in my life and how I can't do any of them because I have to spend 40 hours a week performing some bullshit function to keep our crass commercial society steaming along, crushing the innocent under its tracks. So nothing perks me up like a long weekend! And a 368-day weekend would be the longest ever.

Imagine: You leave from work on the evening of December 29, 2007 (and it's been a wonderfully short Christmas week anyway) and you return on Thursday, January 1, 2009. Wait—coming back to work on New Year's Day? I don't think so! By necessity, this plan has to be a 369-day weekend! Good Snapple, this plan keeps getting better by the minute! 369 days it is.

I'm not blind to the practical difficulties of such a plan. I'm well aware that if the banks don't function in 2008, if the farmers don't grow food and the grocers don't stock it, if the power company just shuts down for the entire year, it might cause a less-than-enjoyable weekend. I say bullocks! Which is British for bullshit. Whenever I have a long weekend I can just do a few columns ahead of time, or play catch up when I get back. Why don't we do that? Everybody stock up all the food you can in December 2007, and buy a lot of batteries and gasoline generators. I have a laptop with a battery, so I should still be able to get on the computer. But who wants to? It's a weekend! This prettyboy's not working for the weekend.

Forget the dreary drag of the office, let go of that boring drive to work every day— we can hold the presidential election in 2009. The president can't do the country any more damage if we're all at home watching The A-Team on TV Land. All I'm saying is think about it, Americans. I just might go ahead and take the "long weekend" myself if no one else wants to do it. Feel free to stop by the regal Finger estate to see my wife, Ginger, sunning in the deck chairs and good ol' Rok himself mowing the lawn. Check out my pecs.

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