"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."