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Original Issue

Now, A Few Words From Reggie's Maker

Flipping over to SportsCenter, Green Bay Packers defensive end
Reggie White can't help notice that sitting in for Dan Patrick
is God.

Reggie, God says.

White's eyes go big as Frisbees.

Reggie, we gotta talk.

Panicked, White looks at his wife, but she's half-asleep.

She can't see me, Reg.

Frenzied, White changes to Jerry Springer, but God is there,
too, ducking punches.

Reggie, what the hell are you thinking? I mean, really, where'd
you get some of this crazy stuff?

White tries another channel, but God is there, too, hosting
Wheel of Fortune. "Wh-wh-wh," White stammers.

Buy a vowel, Reg. I mean, the things you expect people to
believe! You've told people that when you were a free agent I
talked you out of playing for San Francisco. You said, "I heard
God speak to me: 'Where did the head coach and the offensive
coordinator and the defensive coordinator of Green Bay come
from?' And I said, 'San Francisco.' And He said, 'Well, I want
you to go to Green Bay.'" What am I, your agent? Do you think I
have time to worry about where you get paid to knock people
stupid? I have other things on my mind. Does the word Rwanda
mean anything to you?

White flips over to Seinfeld. God is getting a Snapple.

And the stuff you said last week when you were invited to speak
to the Wisconsin State Assembly! I almost choked on a fig! You
said whites enslaved blacks instead of American Indians because
the Indians "knew the territory and knew how to sneak up on
people." Is that how they ended up penned in on reservations?
Where'd you go to school, Reg, Fresno State?

Then you said Asians are inventive and "can turn a television
into a watch." Sure, Reg. Every Asian I make comes out of the
womb and starts taking apart the incubator. You do wear your
helmet when you go out there, right?

White flips over to Telemundo. God is making an omelette.

You said Hispanic people are great at putting "20, 30 people in
one home." Like Hispanics are all just dying to get into the
Guinness Book of World Records. What I don't get, Reg, is how
somebody always barking about racism can be so racist himself.

"I was only...."

What was the Assembly thinking, asking you to speak anyway? Just
because I make a guy big enough to body-slam a string quartet
doesn't make him Winston Churchill.

Petrified, White flips the TV off, but God's face still fills
the screen.

Then you said all these races "form a complete image of God."
Reggie, do you have any idea how sick I get of people telling me
what I look like, what I think and what I want? You can't even
understand junior high history, let alone me.

White runs for his Suburban and peels out, but God is on the
hip-hop station.

What about all that junk you told the media before Super Bowl
XXXI? You said the reason Jesus was crucified is because he
messed up the economy. "He started healing people, and the
doctors got mad," you said. "He started raising people from the
dead, the funeral home people got ticked." And when he
multiplied the loaves and fishes, Red Lobster sued, right?

"It's in the Bible!"

That's another thing. When I gave you the Bible, I never dreamed
it'd be the only book you'd ever read. We put it together 2,000
years ago, Reg! Do you know the Bible has been edited and
rewritten by different factions dozens of times, often for their
own political ends? You quote it as if it just hit the shelves
on Thursday!

There are sirens and flashing lights behind the Suburban now.

Also, there was that time you spoke at an inner-city high school
in Knoxville and proudly admitted you beat your kids! You said,
"I make sure every time they get out of line, they get 42
inches." You think this makes me happy, Reg? A 300-pound
defensive end beating a kid with a belt? You think I like people
treating my most precious gifts like that?

Trembling, White pulls over. A policemen walks up. It's God,
holding a basketball. White rolls down his window.

Look, just tackle people, do good deeds and shut up, O.K., Reg?

Terrified, White nods.

Now, I need a favor. Can you get me Michael Jordan's autograph?
My Son's a huge fan.


Petrified, White flips the television off, but God's face still
fills up the screen.