Ecu Meniacal

Old men in red yarmulkes, pointed hats, lace skirts. Patriarchal hoarders of financial assets protected by lack of inheritance. No marriage allowed. Holy See! Pomp and circumstance. Incense. Gregorian chants. Anachronistic opiate. Centuries of secreted debauchery. Can a new Pope cure this?

And we have the resurrection of Paul AynRyan. Oh boys.

Catho Clysm

God doesn’t seem too happy about Il Papa’s unauthorized abdication right before Lent. Not much time to find a new CEO by Easter. In the words of mAdBen, “Pope is too pooped to pontificate.” It’okay. Church needs major change. Moral decay, corruption, patriarch-acy.┬áState of the World. State of the Union. Maybe somebody up there is trying to tell us something

Forty Niners

Happy Birthday, Joey3Sticks. SideTrek fave blogger. Remember that great NFL team from SanFran? Montana, Rice. Joyful notions. Pats perhaps will deliver a better present next weekend. Still in your forties, so. Enjoy. Love you, Bro.

NYTimes Opinionator column by Simon Critchley, is an in-depth study of Mormonism, dubbing the so-called cultive religion as post-Christian. It’s an elucidating read, lots of stuff few knew. Speaking of 49er’s, Mormons were instrumental in establishing California and Utah wealth during the Gold Rush.

Krystal Ball. It’s the real name of a hot cable news talk-bot. And she’s not on Fox. You’re welcome, Joe. Oh, and 49 days to the election.

Kranky Kristmas 3 – OrnaMental

First things, first. Happy Something-Zero to Anne, dearest friend for 35 years!

When we last left you, Ben was cluelessly chatting with Pete Hamill in the Village, while Dr.Husband was being attacked by the evil tree that poked his eye out and ruined the house. Eye and house restored. Tree tossed in woods in broken stand. GodsonJame got holy water at St.Cecilia’s Mass with Grandma. Sprinkled on evil tree to exorcise demons. Dr.Husband shook head, no, still bad. WalMart. Plastic. No water. No needles. Dr.Husband happy, singing Hallelujah chorus. His wish came true after all these years. Sorry, Ben.