Have you ever wondered where people go when they die? Heaven? Purgatory? How about a sound stage in Queens? Apparently that's the liveliest place to meet dead people if you've ever seen John Edward's syndicated TV show Crossing Over.

Mr. Edward is a psychic from Long Island who receives messages from the dead and then seeks out their friends and relatives in the audience to help him flesh out what the messages mean and to whom they are intended. If you haven't seen the show, get ready for a wakeup call, especially if you think you already know something about Heaven, the spirit world or just being deceased in general. I was very disappointed in dead people after watching my first episode. It's clear that Mr. Edward and I do not share the same vision of the afterlife, and with all due respect to everyone who has crossed over, if his version of the afterlife is it, I'm not going.

When I think of death, I envision that white light as described by those who have died and then come back to life. We ascend toward the light and then into Heaven where all earthly things fade from memory, reportedly none more quickly and God affirming than the image of Howard Dean's concession speech in Iowa.

Not so on Crossing Over. If you're looking for enlightenment and Heavenly insights from the great beyond, you'd have better luck getting it from recently deceased Global Crossing than Crossing Over. The dead, who appear to struggle against a din of spiritual chatter to capture the attention of Mr. Edward, conjure up an image of an afterlife that resembles not the pastoral peacefulness of a Heaven many of us envision, but New York's Port Authority Bus Terminal during rush hour. I was expecting clear, specific and enlightened communication from the afterlife, something along the lines of...

Mr. Edward

I'm getting a message from a Donald Westlake.

Woman in the Audience

Oh my gosh, that's me! I mean that's my grandfather!

Mr. Edward

He wants you to know, Elaine -- it is Elaine isn't it?

Elaine

Yes!

Mr. Edward

He wants you to know that there is nothing to worry about and to let go of all your problems because they are meaningless. He wants to assure you that your husband Dave will get the job with Citibank. He also wants you to know that Heaven is an incredible paradise and to let go of fear -- for you and your loved ones will all be together again for eternity -- which in most cases is perceived as a good thing. (laughing) I added that last part, Elaine. OK, let's take a quick break and then we'll be right back with more of Crossing Over!

Here's an approximation of what you get on Crossing Over:

Mr. Edward

I'm getting something for a Tom, Tony, a common T sort of name. Tammy, Timmy, Tootie...

Man in the Audience

My name is Pete.

Mr. Edward

Ah, that explains the strong "T" sound. There is someone in your family who has passed from a tumor or blockage of some kind...

Pete

My Uncle Ray had a heart attack last year. Had a blocked artery, I believe it was.

Mr. Edward

He wants you to know about a light bulb or a lamp on a boat, perhaps a sailboat or a schooner, maybe a raft, canoe, hydrofoil? Anything nautical and electrical...

Pete

He had a table lamp he made from one of those old ship in a bottle kits. I broke it when I was visiting his house years ago. I must have been six or seven years old. I can't believe it's him!

Mr. Edward

He wants you to write your aunt a check for $33 dollars to replace the lamp you broke. He wants you to know that he's OK where he is, and to tell his son to wipe off the smudge on his picture above the fireplace.

Pete

Anything else?

Mr. Edward

No, but he seemed really upset about that smudge. Don't forget to tell your cousin. OK, I'm getting something about a Francine, Minerva, maybe Motorola ... anybody own a Japanese TV? All right, I understand. Someone from the other side really wants to let a loved one know that a cable wire is loose and that's why the reception is so bad.

And that's TV's version of the afterlife. A bunch of dead people preoccupied with earthly matters so trivial, even the living don't know what they're talking about. So much for my version of Heaven. When I picture Heaven now it's the Kramden's apartment from The Honeymooners, packed wall-to-dreary wall with dead people throwing elbows and screaming out the windows at the top of their lungs, "John! John Edward! Tell my son-in-law to put up the storm windows!"

I said it once, and I'll say it again, if that's the afterlife, I'm not going.