So I'm walking along one day, and this asshole stops me and asks me if I'm all right. He says I got a look. He'd seen a man with that same look once and had ignored it, and that man had jumped out a nine-story window. You know the reconstruction involved in a death like that? This business gets under your skin, it's like a fucking virus. They can even see it on your face, smell it on you.
So many questions. Why couldn't you ask 'em when I was still alive? It's okay, I couldn't answer most of them anyway, unlike now. Now I'm a fucking prophet.
The hardest part about my work is the fact that most people don't want a real relationship with God. Yeah, sure, they'll pray to a man nailed to a cross, but they'll – they'll ignore the gay kid who gets strung up, or the black man who gets dragged behind a car, or someone's mother living in a box.
Well, religion is politics, David. Jesus was a revolutionary, threatened those in power, and they had him assassinated. And they'd do the same thing to him today.
You know what I find interesting? If you lose a spouse, you're called a widow or a widower. If you're a child and you lose your parents, then you're an orphan. But what's the word to describe a parent who loses a child? I guess that's just too fucking awful to even have a name.