A Surreal Week In Heaven

Wow, it's been a crazy week. I am glad to be having a four-day weekend.

I bet St. Peter wouldn't mind having a long weekend, too, after fending off paparazzi at the Pearly Gates all week. (Random musing: Do they even let paparazzi into heaven? )

Can you imagine a random group like Ed McMahon, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays and Karl Malden just showing up at your gate one day? These are not people I can imagine sitting around a dinner table for an hour or two let alone hanging out together for all eternity. If Heaven is anything like the way it was portrayed in "Defending Your Life," then there must have been some surreal conversations during "check in."

"Sir, you'll have to speak up a little. I can barely hear you. And, please don't grab your crotch. It's really not appropriate here."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand you're already an angel, but we really need to fill out the paperwork and make it official."

"No, sir, this isn't a sweepstakes entry form. You're in Heaven. You're already a winner."

"Sir, I'm sure that's a very nice Shamwow, but we're not allowed to accept gifts here. No, I can't accept the Oxi-Clean either. And please lower your voice. People are trying to get their eternal rest."

I must confess right now, I feel a smidgen of guilt about Billy. I think I may have killed him. Just the day before he "passed," I turned off the TV mid-pitch during one of his ads. I may even have said, "God, I wish we could just get this annoying guy and his big mouth off the planet."

I didn't mean it, Billy. I'm sure you were a really nice guy and truly believed in all those products you hawked. I feel so bad now that I never bought any of them. If I go out and buy some Mighty Putty, are we good?

Ed, I feel bad about you, too. All those years you believed in me and sent me those Publisher's Clearinghouse sweepstakes entries. I just threw them in the trash. Maybe you were right and I was already a winner. If that's the case, the joke's on me and we'll laugh about it later.

Karl, I'm glad you had such long, rich life. You were a great actor and richly deserved that Oscar for "A Streetcar Named Desire." But you know why I really loved you? Your nose was shaped exactly like my daddy's -- except much larger. I could never look at you without thinking of him. Look him up now you're up there. He's a great guy, and he loved watching you on "The Streets of San Francisco."

Michael, I was never really a fan of yours, and I cannot even begin to understand the way you conducted your life, but I always admired your talent. In my life, there have always been people who have called me on my bad decisions. I wish someone could have done the same for you.

Farrah, I always believed you were more than "the hair" -- although I did try to wear your hairstyle for a while in the 1970s. Since I'm in confessional mode, I must admit that on my initial salon visit, I carried a photo of Jaclyn Smith's Wella Balsam ad in with me. I guess the stylist was so accustomed to accommodating requests for a "Farrah" that my 'do turned out looking more like yours. I apologize that I didn't wear it better. Genetically, it just wasn't in the cards for me. But then, there could really only be one Farrah.

Thanks for the memories, guys. Rest in peace.