“America is running out of Gods!” the Oklahoma Attorney General thundered
from the pulpit. “At this rate, our great country will be godless before The Wall is

“Preach on brother,” his flock responds.

The sermonizing was a talk by attorney general and televangelist John O’Conner.
The scene was reminiscent of an Oral Roberts’ tent revival meeting minus the
passing of the collection plate. In actuality, Father O’Conner was delivering his
incendiary remarks at the otherwise staid Sand Springs Rotary Club.

In that, Fr. O’Conner failed the first question of the famous Rotarian Four-Way
test: Is it the Truth? Nevertheless, the attorney general continued to advocate for
dynamiting The Other Wall; the one that separates church and state.

“Our system has to be based on a deeper set of principles, and I submit to you
that that’s God the creator,” Father O’Conner bellowed. “It’s like my good friend,
and pardoned general, Michael Flynn said, ‘If we are to have one nation under
God, we must have one religion. One religion under One God’.

“In short, brothers and sisters, the thing that will immediately cure all of
America’s ills is legislation that will create a singular, state-sponsored, national

The adoring crowd unanimously convey their approval by going apoplectic in their
adoring clapping. Shouts of “Praise God” ring out across the room.

When the cacophonous adulation subsides, Fixico stands up and screams, “Praise
Buddha!” even as he is waving a copy of the Pali canon, a collection of Buddhist
writings. The room falls silent as the flock stares at Fixico in shock and disbelief.

“I told you this was going to be fun,” Fixico says to me as he smiles broadly.

“You are going to get us kicked out and burned at the stake Fixico!”

Another fine mess Fixico has gotten us in.

Unfazed, Fixico continues, “Since we are shopping for a National God, I hereby
nominate Buddha for the role. With the Buddha’s emphasis upon reincarnation,
karma and meditation, he is the perfect God for these troubled and divisive times in America. To be sure, he is a bit overweight. But I am convinced that any
graphics arts person worth their salt can transform his image into something akin
to an NFL linebacker.”

“That’s the dumbest, most un-American thing I have ever heard,” Father
O’Conner cries out.

“You don’t like NFL linebackers?” Fixico replies.

“Off with his head!” someone in the crowd commands.

The congregants clap agreeably.

Suddenly, a phalanx of O’Conner’s burly security guards wrangle Fixico. They hog-
tie him and throw him over their shoulders. They proudly carry him down the
center aisle like drunken frat boys cavorting a fallen goalpost after a big win.

Fixico says, “Peace be with you” as he is thrown out.

A woman in the front row stands with a bible in hand. She suggests now would be
a suitable time to read a bible verse. The crowd nods in assent.

“Thank you,” she begins. “I’ll be reading a verse in the book of James from the
Latin Vulgate.”

“The What?” somebody interrupts.

“The Latin Vulgate,” the woman responds.

“What’s that?”

“That’s the Catholic bible,” somebody else yells in an accusatory manner.

“Catholic!” Father O’Conner screams. “We can’t have that! Sit down!”

The poor lady takes her seat even as another man pounces to his feet.

“I’d like to share a verse from the Book of Mormon,” he says.

“Mormon!” O’ Conner cries out derisively. “You can’t be serious! Sit down!”

A third person stands and announces that he will read from the English Standard

Version of the bible.

“Finally,” O’Conner says relievedly. “A real American.”

But before the third person can speak, a fourth person stands and declares that
the English Standard Version is a fraud and that the true bible is the New Living
Translation. Suddenly, several people jump to their feet waving their version of
the bible. Each vociferously proclaiming that their translation is the only true

Yelling, pushing, and shoving break out amongst the crowd. Fistfights begin as people beat each other over the head with their holy books. Many people crawl
under tables to escape the melee.

Father O’Conner stands at the pulpit gobsmacked by the riot he has caused. Fixico
appears next to him.

“Looks like your idea of an American Taliban was a bit short-sighted, Father,”

Fixico observes. “You best exit stage left before the riot you incited turns on you,”
Fixico clicks his heels together three times while intoning “McGirt! McGirt!
McGirt!” Father O’Conner immediately disappears in a fireball of smoke and