It’s That Time of Year Again

Some mornings, you wake up in South Florida, crack open the newspaper, and think: God is surely dead. Or maybe he’s just different. In Italy, the nation’s most vulgar and oft-uttered exclamation, Porco Dio, literally translates to “porcine god.” Somehow it seems most true here in Miami. So, maybe God’s...
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Some mornings, you wake up in South Florida, crack open the newspaper, and think: God is surely dead.

Or maybe he’s just different. In Italy, the nation’s most vulgar and oft-uttered exclamation, Porco Dio, literally translates to “porcine god.” Somehow it seems most true here in Miami.

So, maybe God’s not dead. Maybe he’s just some kind of swamp-dwelling half lawyer, half feral pig with a love of weird violence. That sounds about right.

Then you take a bike ride through Coral Gables and come across an elaborate nativity scene near the corner of Ponce De Leon and Alhambra.

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And then you remember that God is supposed to be a perfect Assyrian baby that was born without sex and got nailed to a cross 2,000 years ago and will be back, soon, to kill us all. And that’s why we give each other Christmas presents and Easter baskets. —Calvin Godfrey

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