News From The Front - The Only Story That Matters

"No wonder...no wonder..."

I had to see for myself, with my own eyes, no media filter intentional or unintentional. The curiosity has been driving me mad. And no wonder I cannot sleep at night. No wonder there's so much unborn rage writhing in me. No wonder my seething teeth ache in furious fretting. No wonder...

I can tell no one of what I saw. If we find out we're doomed already - and that suspicion grows every day despite the best efforts of protests and propaganda - the instantaneous backlash would be fatal to the messenger. He'd be crucified by the same outrage as deserved by the crucifiers to receive. And if this crime gains them one more second of delay from the hour of judgement they will commit said crime without hesitation of compunction.

Somewhere, somehow, something inside knows what we've done.

News from the Front is the worst imaginable - and that's no exaggeration. In fact, I don't think it's humanly possible to describe the carnage coming our way, inching closer in an inevitable march to touch and destroy each and every life. I've seen this with my own now-branded eyes, leaving me shattered and shaking,
    of the hearts we are breaking,
        of the souls we are taking,
            of the truths we are faking,
                of the terror we are making...

Prophets of doom are relegated to the wilderness, their voices a distant cry from impolite society. Since my return people ask what is wrong with me - they can see my consciousness has changed and they've begun viewing me with suspicion, that perhaps I know all is not well in their lives and I will cause revelation. But revelation is coming regardless, with or without me, just as the sun rises in the morn with or without me.

I've witnessed atrocities no eye should be summoned see. Just to fake it through the day I must remain speechless and vilely cheerful as an abused child. Only in the most private of moments do I redeem myself. In those sly moments I know...I know all that we do now on this path is in vain.

How do I say what I saw to a proud new mother holding her newborn baby? How can I fully describe the seeds we have sown when I myself am too afraid to face them? I've noticed that when I speak truly, they only look at me not the words I say. My clothing is my fate. If I speak of the coming doom when well dressed I am lynched in unleashed lust. If I speak in vagabond tatters I'm ignored and unheard. I must sleep with the homeless and the outcast to stay alive with a speaking mind - as did Baptist John of old.

My life is a posed pantomime. I've no cares about making plans or daring dreams. Too much of the future is written. Maybe there are some who are strong enough to survive the soul-crushing tsunami on its way but I feared love more than losing. Watch me be thrilled with the bribed success lauded by the masses! I'll boldly lie of mountains to climb and of drinking from the fountain of forever! That is what's expected by the pack wolves who rule in savage infamy.

Where is safety? When I close my eyes the fires from the Front consume me, raging me aware. I wake up suicide screaming still hearing the civilian generals' insane calls for more murder and more mayhem, never enough to feed the frustration of aborted family. Through the dark, fast-moving haze I witnessed soldiers staggering forward, defeated with arms outstretched, begging for the war to stop, only to be killed in grinning glee as those without hope take life from those who breathe in the most stupid of acts.

The scale of it - were it described accurately - is horror few can believe. We must unite, not fight, if we are to survive. Oh, the putrid proposals I have heard spill from the beast's mouth only to be repeated by mindless masses who wreak craven salvation by the gods of falseness. But the Wind that drives the fires toward us cannot be stopped by clever words or counseled deceit. For the Wind is God. This is why under no circumstance can we brook flames under the heavens.

The joy of the ignorant is all that remains. I smile in failure with the surrounding souls when I hear it praised but my sorrow is restless like a rising volcano. I want to come clean and declare the madness before me! War rewards the monsters among us. I wish only to slip quietly in the night out of this world, never to be seen or heard again. The truth can die with me. From the far reaches of the universe I wait for the willfully unknown, painted by my hopes and fears. But no one even knows I'm here.

In the simmering silence, a message breaks through: "Uncle Harry take me to the water park plz! Hurry lets have fun b4 its to late! Time is running out!"

Jesus left the temple and was walking away when his disciples came up to him to call his attention to its buildings.“Do you see all these things?” he asked. “Truly I tell you, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.”

As Jesus was sitting on the Mount of Olives, the disciples came to him privately. “Tell us,” they said, “when will this happen, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?”

Jesus answered:

“Watch out that no one deceives you. For many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am the Messiah,’ and will deceive many. You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places. All these are the beginning of birth pains.

“Then you will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of me. At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.

“So when you see standing in the holy place ‘the abomination that causes desolation,’ spoken of through the prophet Daniel—let the reader understand— then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. Let no one on the housetop go down to take anything out of the house. Let no one in the field go back to get their cloak. How dreadful it will be in those days for pregnant women and nursing mothers! Pray that your flight will not take place in winter or on the Sabbath. For then there will be great distress, unequaled from the beginning of the world until now—and never to be equaled again."

Goupil Files: Unsanctioned Kill

[From the archives of the late French assassin Goupil. Writings of his life and deeds he left behind, currently still classified by the FBI.]

I was forced to decision. "Ask me five times first."

This phrase, it just come out. I not want to say yes. I not want to say no. She asking me to take big step forward, a commitment for life. She desperate lonely and I want to be hero. And now, as I write here, I must confess what can't be confessed.

It true all my life been horrible bad until I meet Simone. Is true world is bad place no matter what constant commercials say. And it true much the wrought pain is unjust and unneeded. But I didn't have to go bad. I need believe better of myself.

When I start my career killing real reason is because I murderer already. These writings I keep in English because French make it too real. In other language it make it seem I maybe write about someone else.

Simone was glitter in my eyes. God make her perfect to me. I could not think around her and not stop thinking of her when not around. She under my skin and my body heaving convulsions.

If only she not married.

But she want out. That why she look so lonely on cafe sidewalk, this woman I'd always dreamed of. She was sent to save me, I see now. Maybe that why I feel I should save her.

"Will you do this?"

I was forced to decision. "Ask me five times first."

Simone be little older but much farther down road of life than vagabond me. Even so, her marriage did not take her where she want to be. She trapped inside. I would set her free to be with me, Goupil. But my aberrant wasted life before that show her I am fool boy, I fear. I never feel mature around her. Her closeness make me sweat.

"Someone must help me, but who? My husband will end my life."

"I know. It is obvious."

"Will you do this?"

I was forced to decision. "Ask me five times first."

We meet in shadow bamboo. Those times fantasy to my boy eyes, restitution for wounds of childhood. This seem so right it can not be wrong. Life give justice at last! This be turning point, I think to myself. In that I was right. I become most foul person ever, traitor and thief. When career of killing come along I am grateful there is use for someone like me. But I will die this same wretched creature. I wanted...I so, so wanted it to be true...

"He's not who I thought he was. This man is criminal. If the courts ever get to him, he'd be sentenced to jail - or worse."

"This is terrible! You must escape. Is other way than what you ask?"

"Someone must help me, but who? My husband will end my life."

"I know. It is obvious."

"Will you do this?"

I was forced to decision. "Ask me five times first."

To live at last! That is what I think and hope. My denied dreams manifest in shadow bamboo then I live in light ever after. With Simone I am pulled from dark hole and I take what is mine, that was on my mind. The curves of her body infect me with heat. I must repay for this gift one can never repay! I will sacrifice everything for her, she worth my life ten times over. When we have fatal conversation, I must make choice.

"You must kill him. Take him away forever, or I can never be safe."

"Are you sure? Very sure? This be only way?"

"He's not who I thought he was. This man is criminal. If the courts ever get to him, he'd be sentenced to jail - or worse."

"This is terrible! You must escape. Is other way than what you ask?"

"Someone must help me, but who? My husband will end my life."

"I know. It is obvious."

"Will you do this?"

I was forced to decision. "Ask me five times first."

******

I need be sure. I need be something. I need be somebody. How miserable creature God make us with all our needs!

Second time Simone say how approving she be of someone who save her. She fool to marry this man and to ask someone to get her out of own mess she make, who can not revere act like that? I can prove so much to her.

Third time she say she worry she not worth saving. This angel! Not worth saving? Never! I tell her nothing farther from truth. She most valuable person in world. Was like in movies.

Fourth time she bring her tears. I feel great fear. I feel maybe I be same like cruel husband if I not save her. Maybe even coward not deserving woman. This fear nearly put me over edge. But I need hear five times. Something still missing.

Fifth time I tell her not to speak. It come to me what bother me. I say to her that final ask be this: give me your wedding ring. With that I can know, I tell myself. This she does and I wear ring on gold chain around neck to this day, never take off. I keep her close to my heart that way. Sometimes I wonder what happen if I break that chain. Then I remember it's all I have - all I ever have.

******

I decide to be direct. I am moral hero so why not? I go to her townhouse to talk to this bad man, secret gun in pocket. I leave no room for doubt. Every step from train to house I remember. Muggy evening, happy singers in distance strange soundtrack to a kill, I think at time. Window lights warm and inviting. Every instinct say not do this! The cruel world turn friendly at just wrong time. I must plow ahead and not pay attention to this trick.

"Monsieur Auberjonois?"

His face was not what I expect when he answer door. I not see meanness Simone describe. More tricks of the world! But we sit and talk and yes, I like the man. I can not see me killing him. I start think no wonder Simone like bum like me, a nobody with no future. No real man would be sitting here like this, talking to good man she plan me to kill. My world come crashing down. I have everything wrong! My stomach feel sick. My head spin. I have to leave I tell him - and if God take my life on way home I not complain!

Halfway to train I see her heading my way to her townhouse. Simone is all smiles.

She thinks I did her deed! She laughing at me! Mocking fool boy! Never day will pass I don't hear her laugh in my ears rest of life. Who can ever take? Any good always too good to be true!

"I see your husband," I tell her.

"But how - "

"Do not ask how! Do not ask anything of me! I am idiot for ages. All heaven mocking me. You really think this can happen?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course! I am too stupid to see, you think! I not live with this. I ready to kill so kill I will!"

Running into night like sad dream, drowning in darkness, streetlights like spotlights, faces like judges, sounds of tormented beasts echoing in ears, falling, falling, falling. Never again dare I to believe in me. If I just stay true to my rotten truth I never fall for her and hope that can never be. Most time of that night lost to me. Just feelings I remember. Never a soul so lost.

When dawn come and light arise I ask myself why world bother with new day. What can it possible bring? There's no point to anything, life gone till end of time. End charade already. I spend morning in bottomless sorrow hiding inside abandoned industrial building. Small voice tell me go out anyway to see what I can see. I curse that voice a fool but do anyway because total black hopelessness killing me.

Was not husband I meet. Was husband's brother. I shoot Simone for nothing. Later, true enough, real husband sentenced 36 years in French prison for sex crime ring. Pain of this never far. What is proper retribution on me? If only I keep faith in her. That she could like me was miracle of miracles and had it been so my life change forever better. Instead, it forever worse. I am Greek tragedy. Crucify me in worst way. I do not know how to bring Simone back. I wish I never born. Beware the flint in my eye.

Dear God: Please DIE!

[They called themselves God-Lovers and their leader was hailed God-King. At first, it was assumed to be just another snake cult. But like a tidal wave rising from the ocean without warning, they came crashing ashore in the worst of ways, surprising the naively unsuspecting and the willfully oblivious while welcomed by cheering nihilists who wished to see the world burn down. Woe be to any who stand in the way of the wave.]

In the beginning was the deceiver, and the deceiver was with lies, and the lies were evil. The deceiver's trick was simple: arson for reward. By torching several houses in the community at once he was able to rob banks unnoticed during the pandemonium. Citizens were forced to make a choice between saving their humanity or their bank accounts. The deceiver had no use for humanity as he swindled even himself. Soon, his coffers were full as his soul emptied out.

The deceiver reveled in his hypocrisy, decrying firefighters for not doing enough to put out the fires he started, posing as a moral crusader for the everyman. An unholy cabal of the criminal, the corrupt, and the nihilists marveled at the deceiver's larcenous ways, joining his false crusade hoping to partake in his looting in the name of God. This was the beginning of the God-King.

Claiming God was on their side - and thus any who was not on their side were on the side of the devil - the appeal of shameless lying and riches swelled the numbers of the God-Lovers like a fast spreading wildfire. "We're here doing God's work!" railed the deceiver. "Let no one stand in our way until we control all!" Soon, no home was safe from the arsonists who were left unopposed as communities cowered in fear, homeowners staying home to protect their dwellings, refusing to go out and fight.

Those who did leave their house to fight were deeply resented by those who did not. "You can't stop them! There's no point!" Some even defended the arsonists hoping that would make them safe. "These protests are deeply offensive! The arsonists are God-Lovers, carrying the Bible with their flaming torches." So insane did fear of the cult become that in a fit of mindless hysteria, the God-King was made leader of the land.

"Yippee! Now I get to loot the national treasury, starving widows and orphans, repeal laws that hinder my criminal friends, and spread the gospel of holy corruption!"

As the nation teetered on the brink of destruction - as the smell of burning homes with screaming families inside became so commonplace as to not even make the news - the God-King gloried in unhinged ecstasy.

"I have a plan for the fires that consume us! Only your God-King could come up with such a great plan or entertain with such a great act you would believe me. I propose we destroy each and every dam, releasing water that has been unjustly kept back from serving us, the victimized people! We shall be victims of these cruel dams no more!"

The deceiver cackled to himself watching heated debates of his calculated insanity defended by fools and smirking con men as those who fought to preserve life were doused in verbal gasoline and set aflame. By constantly creating new and ever greater disasters, the deceiver knew he could thin the efforts of the Preservers, overwhelming and exhausting them to the point of no return, the utmost goal of him and his rabid supporters.

If anyone outside of the God-Lovers cult was found torching a home, however, that perpetrator would be immediately captured, harshly denounced, and sentenced to death. In this way, the immoral majority hoped to appear moral and stand for the long lost rule of law. "I can't imagine a more heinous act than burning down a home with the family inside. We will not tolerate this under any circumstances!" Unless, of course, the God-Lovers were committing the very same crime en masse - in that case the cowards declared it "God's work."

But Nature has Her own agenda outside the will of Man (Thank God!), and suddenly news came down that God was dead. Though acceptance of that fact was slow at first, its undeniability gained steam just like the cult had in its early days: irrefutable, unstoppable - and irreversible. The lies of the God-King were seen to be more and more hollow, helpless in the face of Nature's even more stubborn truth. "If God is dead then who does the God-King really serve?" The ensuing silence to that question echoed louder each passing day.

Sick of living in fear, even the self-loathing masses began to wake up to a dawning reality: that the protesting Preservers were their true allies and the so-called God-Lovers their betrayers. The tide turned and the cult's numbers dwindled until only a hardcore few were left who were then hunted down and imprisoned to at last bring safety to the nation. Only the God-King remained to be captured until he too was finally cornered.

"You sick, perverted, murderer, tell us who you really are and who you really serve!"

"Never! My soul to keep! I would rather die!"

"So be it, then!"

But seeing his final bluff fail, the God-King relented it not repented. "Wait! Wait! I'll tell you my name."

"Tell us quick before we get a rope."

"OK, OK." The deceiver tried one final trick. "I'll tell you because I love the truth so much!"

"Well," taunted a now undeceived crowd. "We're waiting."

"Fine! Then by your own mirror be judged! Thy name is...Judas."

The Village Prisoner

He looked to the sky

With a pleading eye

But with no reply

He was left to die

"Nǐ jiào shén me míngzi! Nǐ jiào shén me míngzi!" (What is your name?)

The question was more of an accusation than anything else. But the Foreigner could not answer as he spoke no Chinese. What he did know from the tone of the voices around him was his prying outsider presence was deeply resented and unwanted and they wanted to know what he was doing there. This was the beginning of a lifelong sentence.

No Name had been part of a group of visiting English speakers only when they moved on he did not. The village was rife with wild speculation why this was so but his story was never told. No one wished to kill him but no one wished him to remain. Whatever the truth, they took his being left behind as a sign of rejection from his own people, that he must be shameful in some way - and now that shame had been brought to the village. Maybe they wished to kill him, after all.

The villagers came to derisively call him "No Name", hoping that would help drive his despised eyes away. He was seen but not seen, villagers doing their daily business walking by as if he did not exist. In their outrage of being stuck with this supposed loser, their intent was to deprive him of all hope. Suddenly, they had an answer as to the cause of every ill or unfortunate event in their lives: the Foreigner.

Not knowing what to do with him and as they suffered from "labor worship" as most societies, they took No Name to the mine to dig, the lowest of all jobs. He did not have the look or build of a laborer - more like that of a college professor - but the villagers saw this as a just revenge for being burdened with his presence. Driven mad in the darkness, the Foreigner cried out in his nonsensical language as he came to have the thousand yard stare of every beast of burden who'd been stretched too far.

Over time, seeing that he accepted his tortured life, the villagers gave a grudging tolerance to No Name. Parents scolded their children to be good or No Name would come snatch them in the middle of the night! A burglar terrorized the village and until he was caught the Foreigner was roughed up with constant questioning. No Name could see no way out. To go from one of thousands of villages to another deep in the Chinese heartland was no answer. He was given no money, only food and shelter for his labors; a hamster in a wheel.

One night after several years, No Name came out of his hut fully nude with an erection, his arms held out in supplication. He tried to approach a young maiden who screamed as children and other women duly fled. Quickly and instinctively the men gathered to beat and brutalize No Name, wailing at the top of their lungs as they kicked him in the cloudy dirt of the street. No Name had invoked a primal rage in the men who knew they too were prisoners - of their needs. To see this naked admission, that they lived their lives in submission to their women, was unbearable and had to be crushed at all costs - or so they believed.

Another time No Name was dragged to the woods and chained to a tree. This wasn't meant to kill him though many silently hoped for that as a byproduct. After two days he was released having been fed bread and water as he soiled himself without choice. No Name did not know why they'd done this but prior to the chaining feverish cleaning and organizing had been done in seeming expectation of a great event. He died without knowing that Communist Party Officials had come to inspect the progress of the "regeneration project" of the rural countryside. The idea of the freak Foreigner being spotted in their midst was beyond unthinkable.

Though never able to learn the language, No Name was able to get a feel for things and he knew not to complain of the abuse he received - just as the villagers knew not to complain of the abuse they received from the powers that be. So he made no issue of being tied to the tree nor of the time he was beaten after a baby had been stillborn, undoubtedly from the curse he'd brought them.

No Name's life was to be a short one. After the nude beating his body aged rapidly in the following years with unnatural fallout of his hair and his body twisting in stress. That made him only more loathsome, increasing village resentment. The owner of the herb shop - despite being roundly criticized - offered an herbal solution to No Name that was effective in giving relief. However, extending his life was not a goal of No Name who also desperately wanted his presence to cease. So he faded away in the dead of night in a heart attack.

Initially, a feeling of joy and relief swept through the villagers. The beast god was gone at last. Never knowing his name they buried him in an unmarked grave. But they were not free. A silent shame blanketed their souls in the aftermath, for having given no recourse to No Name they found themselves without recourse for their own condemnation. No Name's name was not to be spoken by unspoken agreement as everyone resumed life as if he'd never existed.

But they became prisoners of this secret, daily arguments and contentiousness increased as the unmarked grave called out to them in perpetuity. So dysfunctional did they become that their behavior was noticed by travelers who labeled the villagers "shameful" - a terrible branding and a de facto betrayal of the "great Communist cause". As the village became shunned the populace dispersed into the countryside leaving their home a ghost town, reclaimed by Nature in the shadows of history, its story not to be told.

"God is a nigger."

Two men watched in awe of old game clips on the living room TV.

"Wow! That boy got talent! "

"The grace of Gale Sayers and the power of Earl Campbell. He's like a dream!"

"Yes, sir, it's as if the good Lord hisself made that boy to be the best there ever was."

A certain silence followed as the weight of that thought sunk in. This preoccupation caused them to fail to notice the entrance of Billy Joe Dupree, the film's subject.

"Shut that off and shut the fuck up."

The TV was hastily shut off. One man stammered an apology.

"Sorry, Billy Joe, we just wanted - "

"Wanted to show what a fuck up I am? Is that it?"

"No, Billy Joe! Come on, man. You know we care about you."

Billy Joe rolled his wheelchair closer.

"Is that a fact? So can you tell me what the fuck I'm supposed to do for the rest of my fucking life?"

"You still great, Billy Joe! You can be anything you want!"

The words came out reflexively and the man instantly regretted it. Really, no one can answer that question honestly.

"You two a couple of fuck-ups, you know that? The universe done opened up a hole I fell in it. Demesha is gone. My legs are gone. My future is gone. The only thing I'm doing from now on is time."

Awkward disgust choked the room. Ever since the car accident - getting goaded into a street race after buying a new Ferrari with his signing bonus - Billy Joe's life had been one of a well documented downfall from hero to laughingstock. He couldn't see how that self-inflicted bitterness would ever leave.

"The Lord has a reason for everything, Flash."

"Don't call me that no more! And fuck the reason I'm stuck in this chain link chair. If God put me here then God owe me! God is a nigger."

Self-forgiveness for his unforced error wouldn't be coming anytime soon.

"Hey, Billy, we don't mean nothin' by nothin'. Don't be so down on yourself. It just bad luck. It's not like you committed a crime or anything."

"Fool! Don't you know nothin'?" Billy glared with a look of pure hate. "I can't believe you two. Get outta my sight. Don't you know all the worst crimes is legal."

CODA: For years Billy wrestled with his dilemma until he decided to "turn my life over to the Lord." Billy said all the expected things and drew praise from everyone around for overcoming such an incredible setback and that he was surely an inspiration for others. Billy was very satisfied upon hearing this and subsequently committed suicide.

SIDE NOTE: [Brien Taylor was the #1 rated prospect in baseball in 1992 for the New York Yankees. After picking a fight to avenge his brother he smashed his hand, effectively ending his pitching career before it ever started. He ended up a package handler at UPS. In 2012 he was convicted of cocaine trafficking, spending three years in prison.]

*******

Pissed I have to wear this stupid hat and robes

and gloves but at least they cover up the wounds.

Teenage Heinz alienated nonstop his German classmates on the playground.

"Oskar, I saw your grades. Not so smart, after all!"

"Bettina, you've got the clothes of a shoe shiner. Ha!"

"Fritz, maybe a blind girl would want you!"

Heinz knew it was wrong but he couldn't help himself. Finally, one day his teacher pulled him aside.

"Heinz, you keep up this taunting and you won't have any friends left."

But her statement made no difference to him. He figured he didn't have any friends already. You see, Heinz viewed himself as a zero with no chance and no hope. And since he was a zero, why would anyone care what he has to say anyway? And based on what he saw as irrefutable logic, Heinz turned away everyone sent by the universe to save him. As a zero, he was doing them a favor, he reasoned. On this he would not budge.

Decades later in the Episcopalian vestry of a small Texas town, Father Heinz was busy dressing for Sunday service with the help of Stephanie, a long time church volunteer. For a long while she'd been wanting to ask him about that which he never spoke.

"Father, it's been five years now and I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"About the wounds..."

"Well, yes, actually. You knew?"

"Of course. Only natural you'd wonder."

"You're sort of a mystery, you know, being from Germany and all!" Stephanie grew suddenly nervous and her voice became hushed. "On your hands and wrists - are those stigmata wounds?"

"No, they are not," answered Heinz dryly. Stephanie worried she'd just stepped into a bear trap.

"Oh, I see." She couldn't hide her disappointment - especially losing out on the chance to play hero to inform her church friends of a stigmatic priest in their midst.

"Wounds on my hand are from a car wreck. Ones on my wrists are from attempting suicide."

The Father continued his dressing motions as if he'd been talking about the weather. Stephanie struggled not to visibly shake.

"Sorry, Father. I shouldn't have pried."

"Technically, the hand wounds are also from an attempt to die as I was speeding in a drug induced haze hoping to end my life when I wrecked."

Stephanie tried to write her own tale. "Then it's surely a miracle and a blessing we have you here today! Your sermons on sin and life are so deep and insightful. You've been through so much!"

"It's all a waste," confided Heinz.

"No! Not at all!" declared Stephanie, the smile draining from her face.

"Oh, completely. This whole thing preaching and pretending is a waste. I never have anything worthwhile to say. I can't: I don't have love. I'm a zero and a zero can't have love."

"I'm sorry, Father. I'm not following this."

"You mean you're afraid to. I can talk all day on the meaninglessness of life without love and make that sound as if it has relevance. What you won't catch me doing is speaking of life with love. Now that would have meaning."

"I see," responded Stephanie who dearly wished at that moment to run screaming from the room. But then: "Then why do it, Father? You must get something out of your priesthood. Why do all this if it has no meaning?"

"Because I can't do what is right." His helper couldn't believe her ears. "Don't believe me? Then look at the title of today's sermon."

Flashing his private notes Stephanie read in horror: "The World Is Shit And God Is A Nigger"

*******

The billboard had stirred outrage in the Bible Belt city that loves to call itself moral. Multiple attempts had been made to vandalize it as politicians made hay by getting out in front of the outrage, daring to go where any man would go. But as one with "Fuck you" money, all I had to say was, well, fuck you. I was having a ball watching and hearing the hypocrites stare into a mirror and think they are talking about me when it's really themselves. They feel so safe, letting it all out!

After a time I decided to respond by calling in to of all things, a sports radio station morning show. Third wheel on the broadcast was a guy they called "The Great Guido", who often likes to moralize behind a cloak of religion. He was very outspoken about my sign, speaking as he does many times out of both sides of his mouth. Bottom line is: it offended him but he didn't want to directly come out and say that. Perhaps he's considering running for office later in life.

The initial conversation with the trio went well and was cordial though with strained undertones, as expected. But then I zeroed in on Guido.

"This is fun, guys, but I want to talk just with Guido for a moment with no one else jumping in, OK?"

"Sure, Harry. Go ahead."

"Guido, I got one question for you: Do you believe God exists?"

"Absolutely, no doubt in my mind."

"Would you go so far as to say you know God exists."

"I would have no problem saying that."

"But do you believe God is love?"

"That too is something I know. I stand firm on all those points, sir."

"OK, then. What would you say if I asked if you know the world is round?"

"Of course I know that. This isn't an idiocracy yet!"

"Great. So imagine if I put up a billboard saying "The Earth Is Flat". You'd just laugh and make fun of me because you know it's not true and that in reality I was making more of a statement on myself than the earth."

"Well, yeah -"

"But on this you get all upset even though it's the exact same situation according to your claims of knowledge and you actually do see this as a reflection on God. Why the change in attitude?"

Of course, there is no answer for that. Guido started spitballing about how yes, in fact, he did see the billboard as a reflection on me and not God - he just hadn't mentioned it yet. Then he muddied the water that "using the N-word" was what really offended him, implying if I'd used a different insult he'd been fine with the statement. This was all rather amusing. Then I got on my high horse and rode away.

"See, Guido, what I or anyone has to say about God is none of your business. Maybe you want to ask yourself why you think it is. Maybe you want to "enlighten" me but no enlightened person would do that. God is what God is regardless of what anyone says just as the earth remains just as round no matter what anyone says. So everyone who's passing judgment on me is actually passing judgment on themselves. They are looking into a mirror."