when we were in eighth grade. It’s the worst grade. It was the worst grade for me. This was the year of A View to a Kill. We were James Bond addicts. We wanted gadgets and girls. We wanted travel and boats. He didn’t go with me to see the film. The Octopussy days were over. The magic of stupidity gone. His dad hung himself in the basement, the laundry machine running, as if he was trying to fit in one last chore. It was the opposite of James Bond. I got older, got a job in the mines, the opposite of James Bond. He married a woman he hated, got divorced, and killed himself with a shotgun. He had a snake that got out of its cage. My mother wouldn’t tell me what happened with the snake and his corpse. It sounded very James Bond villain though. I wouldn’t write this, but I think he’d like that comparison, even if he was dead reading this.

R. Riekki
God is Red: A Native View of Religion
Vine Deloria Jr.