(God's column appears in this space every Friday.)

How do you like the name of My column? I think its simple, but it says it.

A lot on My mind this week. Fortunately I waited to turn in My copy until tomorrow; time doesn’t throw Me for a loop like it does you mortals. In fact I haven’t even begun writing this yet.

A reader asks, what happens after you die? Good question, and two bonus credits for asking (you’ll find out what bonus credits are after you die, but believe Me, they’re good.) To some extent it depends on whether I liked you or not. Did you whine incessantly? Warn others I would smite them? Sleep with chicks and then not call them? Scoot to the register when you were last in line and a new cashier opens up and calls “Next in line”? All this stuff ticks Me off. But generally I’m easy. So here’s what happens when you die. You shed your body, your “earthly remains” as it were, and become pure energy, or spirit. You reconnect with the Oneness of all things (that would be Me), sort of like being assimilated by the Borg on Star Trek, only its nice. Its kind of like a party where you know everyone, and you’re popular, but not the center of attention. In addition to comprising part of the infinite Oneness, though, you spend eternity having access to all the events and moments of you life, to pass through over and over again at your whim. Once you have lost your earthly remains—the flesh—you experience these things in a different fashion, in a more pure way. If you led a good life, you experience this as heaven; if you led a bad life, you experience it as hell.

The Talking Heads came close when they sang, “Heaven is a place, a place where nothing, nothing ever happens.” And while we’re on the subject, let Me just pat Myself on the back for Tina Weymouth, OK?

So live a good life, be open to the wonder of things, to the beauty in things. Take your lead from children. Don’t hate, because that will really come back and bite you in the ass, ever after-wise. And make sure to sing and dance. Even if its only on the inside. Because you’ll know. And so will I.

****

OK then.

Up here I get about 2,000 channels of HBO, and Bill Maher is on all the freaking time. (So is Taxi Cab Confessions; that show never gets old.) And because I’ve sussed the whole space/time continuum thing, I’ve already seen the last two seasons of the Sopranos; I won’t spoil it for you, but Tony gets what he deserves, metaphorically speaking. Anyway, Maher said something funny about Intelligent Design that bears repeating: “Stupid is not a new way of knowing things.”

This week Pat Robertson warned the citizens of Dover, PA not to call on Me if something bad were to happen to them, because they kicked Me out of town when they voted those Intelligent Design cretins off the school board.

Hey, Pat, you numbskull—who do you think fixed the vote? Satan? No, that was the good people of Dover doing My work. Mine. Of course I will be there for them in their time of need. Heck, I was this week, wasn’t I?

Don’t be too tough on Pat though. He has the brain damage.

So until next week, this is the Lord, thy God, saying: Peace Out everybody, and enjoy the weekend!