I was raised a Roman Catholic as were we all in my
parents’ house. When we each reached adulthood, our mileage varied somewhat in
a variety of areas to include activities more traditionally associated with
Sunday mornings.
I mention my history as a sort of disclaimer because I
have in the past sometimes confused people with what I think is a delightfully
waggish, if not puckish, sense of humor that seemingly less
discerning fellow travelers feel is not respectful of their and others’
beliefs.
Which sometimes pains me as I see myself as being the
epitome of tolerance in areas of personal belief (the important word being
personal). Quite frankly, whatever works for you and/or yours is fine with me.
I am so laidback on this topic that, from a distance, I appear comatose. That
is more or less by design, if not technically my design.
But, intending no disrespect to whatever religious
beliefs you have, this is an amazing story (I’m thinking
Olivia doesn’t much like the Reverend) and I offer that assessment keenly aware
that in terms of wealth accretion the Roman Catholic Church has quite a financial
portfolio history since undergoing therapy to better cope with that fear of passing through the eye of a needle from a long time
ago.
More recently there’s been talk of updating references to
Early Bird Dinner since the marketing cats and kittens at Corporate are
concerned that Last Supper is a bit more End Times than they’d like. So have a
seat next to Creflo, grab a plate and hope
it goes around.
-bill kenny
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