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Archive for "Jun 27 2005"

Fun With Java

NameVoyager

I seemed to peak when I was born…like I didn’t know that.

via Spoons

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How to Succeed in the Blogosphere

In a nutshell: Glorify buggery.

Via the Llama Butchers, whose ascent through N.Z. Bear’s TTLB ranks surely must signal the End of Days is way late.

Move Along; Nothing New Here to See

Parents miss Mass, kids get ax

To my eyes, this is one hell of a ‘nothing new’ non-story; I’ll bet it happens far more often than most folks realize, and this:

Cichon insisted that the move has nothing to do with the lack of a donation.

is complete and utter bullshit. It’s always about the Benjamins.

A version occured in my own life back in the early Seventies while attending St. Sylvester’s. My father had died, and my Mom, now the sole income producer with two young kids to provide for, had cut back on her envelopes. At the same time, SS’s then pastor–Msgr. Lennon, had retired and was replaced by some twit prick…I think his name was Sullivan–who checked the rectory spreadsheets upon taking over as C.E.O. and discovered the drop in cash flow coming from my family. He flat our told my Mom that her kids wouldn’t be graduating from St. Sylvester’s if she didn’t start coming across with more dough.

What the twit prick didn’t “bank” on, because he was too stupid to consult with any of the parishioners who made up the parish’s leadership in various laity groups, was the absolute pounding those groups rained down on him when Mom–never one to stand for such bullshit (yep, that’s where I got it)–let them know about the extortion demand. They pulled him aside and told him about Mom’s situation, and about all the times Pop had brought his band, the Staten Island Pipers, to appear at parish fundraising functions, and the fact that Pop was one of the parishioners who helped to rebuild the enclosed porch of the rectory the new pastor now called home.

The threat was dropped, but for me, who was little Mr. Altar Boy at that time, the damage was done. Once I graduated I can count the times I’ve had anything to do with that parish that didn’t involve a wedding or funeral on one hand; any church would take two and a foot. That this bastard Cichon needs to track bar codes to know what families are coming to his services proves he–like his twit prick counterpart before him, doesn’t know a damn thing about his parishioners, just knows what he thinks their monthly vig should be on his tally sheet.

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