Man killed God today.
Man, in the guise of a Roman ruler, his centurions, and people who screamed, "Crucify him!" killed God.
Man stripped him, beat him, mocked him, "hailed" him as "king".
And then man led him out to a cross.
Man watched while he stumbled along the Via Dolorosa. Some jeered him, some wept, some wailed, some didn't pay attention.
Man, in the guise of trained centurions, picked up nails--long, cruel nails--and, using a mallet, drove them, blow by blow, into skin and muscle and bone and blood vessel.
They did it three times. One for each arm, and one for both feet, crossed together.
And then they sat back and gambled while God gasped for breath, slowly suffocated, bled, and died.
And if that wasn't enough, someone rammed a spear into his side.
Then the broken body of God was picked up and carried to a borrowed tomb, wrapped in linen, and laid to rest.
The last act was the sound of a stone rolled over the entrance, then the final thud as it landed in its place.
This was the day that man killed God.
Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.