And finally, New Rule: Death isn't always sad. [photo of Jerry Falwell shown] This week, the Reverend Jerry Falwell died, and millions of Americans asked, "Why? Why, God? Why didn't you take Pat Robertson with him?!" I don't want to -- I don't want to say Jerry was disliked by the gay community, but, tonight, in New York City, at exactly 8:00, Broadway theaters along the Great White Way, for two minutes, turned their lights up.
Now, I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but I think we can make an exception, because speaking ill of the dead was kind of Jerry Falwell's hobby. He was the guy who said AIDS was God's punishment for homosexuality, and that 9/11 was brought on by pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays and the ACLU. Or as I like to call them, "my studio audience."
But, I found it surreal this week watching people on the news praise Falwell, followed by a clip package of what he actually said. Things like, "Homosexuals are part of a vile and satanic system that will be utterly annihilated." "If you're a born again Christian, you're a failure as a... If you're not a born again Christian, you're a failure as a human being." "Feminists just need a man around the house." "There is no separation of church and state." And of course, everyone's favorite, "The purple Teletubby is gay."
Jerry Falwell found out that you could launder your hate through the cover of God's will. He didn't hate gays. God does. All Jerry Falwell's power came from name-dropping God. And gay people should steal that trick.
You know what? Don't say you want something because it's your right as a human being. Say you want it because it's your religion. Gay men have been going at things backwards. Forget civil rights and just make gayness a religion. I mean, you're kneeling anyway.
And it's easy to start a religion. Watch. I'll do it for you. I had a vision last night. A vision. The Blessed Virgin Mary came to me. I don't know how she got past the guards. And she told me it's high time to take the high ground from the Seventh Day Adventists and give it to the 24-Hour Party People. And that what happens in the confessional stays in the confessional.
Gay men, don't say you're life partners. Say you're a nunnery of two. "We weren't having sex, officer. I was performing a very private Mass. Here in my car. I was letting my rod and my staff comfort him."
"Take this, and eat of it, for this is my roommate, Barry."
"And for all those who truly believe, there's a special place for you, in 'Kevin.'"
And, speaking of heaven, one can only hope that as Jerry Falwell now approaches the Pearly Gates, he is met there by God Himself, wearing a Fire Island muscle shirt and nut-hugger shorts, and saying to Jerry in mighty lisp, "I'm not talking to you!"
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Originally Posted by Bob T
