Jerry Falwell has died. He died, his heart stopped, he stopped breathing, and his brain ceased to function (at least chemically, it can be argued that it never really did much in the first place)
And, like so many terrorists, I'd like to step forward and claim credit, as an atheist and a liberal.
The man blamed atheists, gays, liberals, lesbians, pro-choice voters and kitchen sinks for natural disasters, and although he was too busy choking on his own tongue to do it here, I think it's only natural to assume that he would have if he had any breath left in his fat-encrusted lungs, so I'll just do him a final favor and take credit for it.
Since we were able to anger "god" so much that he crashed planes into buildings and submerged New Orleans, we must have done something to lead to god wiping that fat bastard away like a tag nut.
So I encourage everyone to go out, have a drink, think about how good life is. Not because death puts it all into perspective for us, but because the world is legitimately a better place without him.
And not to belittle Scuttle the Seagul, but did you ever notice how much Jerry Falwell looked like Buddy Hackett?
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