God bless Jerry Falwell. He's such a good man, bringing the Lord into peoples' lives, lighting up their hearts and filling their bellies with Jesus love. We should give him hugs and wine and our MasterCard numbers, so he can continue bringing salvation to the masses through our television screens and dirty, filthy newspapers.

Of what wonderment do I speak? The conservative Christians of the United States, partially led by our good Reverend Falwell, represent the largest body of support for Israel anywhere, surpassing even Jewish groups. They support Israel because they believe once it is fully Jewish, the Messiah will return.

When he does (or she does; these are cosmopolitan times), two thirds of the Jewish population will be wiped out in a battle that will be flooded with blood to our shoulders and beyond. The other third will convert to Christianity and join in being ruled under Christ for a thousand years.

This is all true; go research it yourself if you don't believe me. What's particularly interesting is that Ariel Sharon, sweet little cherub that he is, has decided to embrace these groups even though they believe he'll die a horrible, bloody, Christian death. What's even more interesting is that this little group is President Bush's number one voting demographic.

Me? I'm an atheistic pacifist with Jewish roots who believes that Israel is committing crimes against humanity and the world on a massive scale, that President Bush is corrupt and that the Religious Right are the most dangerous people in Western civilisation today.

But that's okay. See, they don't know what's coming.

When the moon is in the fourth quarter, when the planets and stars and galaxies are lined up properly, the conditions will be right. When London is returned to the swingers and the rockers and the activists, the conditions will be right. When New York once again hosts festivals for free and Greenwich Village isn't just a place where people get cannabis, the conditions will be right.

And He will swoop down from the heavens, his figure like lightning against the sky, silhouetted against an infinity of burning flame dancing behind him. The conservatives will be forced to convert or die in a blaze of funk; the squares will have to give up and get their freak on or face divine retribution. Corporate conglomerates will fade and fall, replaced only by an ocean of people, holding hands, smiling, being at one with each other.

By the cataclysmic end, only free love will remain. Forget fish and crosses; flowers and little Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament logos will reign supreme.

Oh yes. Hendrix will return.

You mark my words.