Sic, in fit of wrath, goes after porky polititian
By MICHAEL J. FARRELL
Sic was reminded of R. Frost's famous poem, "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," when the following arrived from Thomas Ewens of Providence: "My friend Jeannette Gagnepain, a Frenchwoman of impeccable distinction and great verve, wonders why there is such a great crisis in vocations to the priesthood but none at all in vocations to the episcopacy. Would we not be much better off if it were the other way around?"
Sic, who stands in awe of the many stout souls prepared to step forward and wear those funny pointy hats for the sake of the kingdom, worries about the bishop vocation crisis. Our advice to women: Forget about trying to become priests and go straight for the episcopacy.
This Space, meanwhile, has learned that the Vatican personnel office is working on an ad for the next pope (is this a scoop?). It reads in part: "Must be Catholic ... a merry old soul ... infallibility a plus ... equal opportunity employer ..."
Bishop Wright, the scandalous Scot, was told by Cardinals Hume (Westminster) and Winning (Glasgow) that if he ended his liaison with Mrs. Macphee he could again serve as a priest, according to the Irish Independent, which adds: "What an astonishing moral viewpoint! It makes a mockery of celibacy and undermines the integrity of the priesthood. A priest or a bishop who has sex with a woman can be forgiven -- provided he does it outside and not inside marriage. The message is: Celibacy is obligatory, chastity is optional."
The following were allegedly found on the "Laughweb":
"I think animal testing is a terrible idea. They get all nervous and give the wrong answers."
"A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother."
"With every passing hour our solar system comes 43,000 miles closer to globular cluster M13 in the constellation Hercules, and still there are some misfits who continue to insist that there is no such thing as progress."
"The graduate with a science degree asks, 'Why does it work?' The graduate with an engineering degree asks, 'How does it work?' The graduate with an accounting degree asks, 'How much will it cost?' The graduate with a liberal arts degree asks, 'Do you want fries with that?' "
"A great many people think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices" (William James).
Lazlo's Chinese Relativity Axiom: "No matter how great your triumphs or how tragic your defeats, approximately one billion Chinese couldn't care less."
M.J. Lyon of Basking Ridge, who writes "I love Sic" (and that has made all the difference), asks: "Did you hear the one about the agnostic, dyslexic, insomniac who was up all night wondering if there really is a dog?"
Hey, let's dump Sen. Robert Byrd of West Virginia. You may have seen on TV that this power guy is getting a highway built through his home state, a highway nobody wants (there are already two highways parallel to the proposed new one) except a few of Byrd's very wealthy supporters. This highway goes nowhere, folks: When it reaches the Virginia border, it just stops. It will cost $1 billion. Of your money. You could feed a lot of starving Rwandans with that.
Then there was the young British widow who cremated her late hubby, collected the ashes, bought the biggest rocket at Fantastic Fireworks, added the ashes which, the fireworks guy said, would be "dispersed over a wide area in a starburst display."
Sic nominates the deceased corpse of the week.
Back to Byrd, king of pork. To quote ABC News, no one wants that highway. The reader may be incredulous, but Sic has been watching this fellow for years and is here to tell you this is just the latest monster pork project Byrd has inflicted on taxpayers. Gives the word shame a bad name, if you ask Sic.
Everyone knows by now how the pope recently went out on a theological limb and said, throwing caution to the wind, that, darn it, evolution was OK. Fortunately for everyone (and especially for Sic), Mother Angelica, the Catholic TV person, heard about this and set the record straight. "He didn't say that. It is no more possible that we came from apes than that a rock could turn into a vegetable," Angelica said. The whole story was a bunch of lies concocted by Time and Newsweek, she said.
The Sen. Byrd disaster is another reminder of the great Frost poem, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -- I took the road down to Stinkville with a billion big bucks in my porky political pocket."
For Sic's money, lawyers are one big laugh. David Broome of Phoenix took the following from U.S. court records, and even Dear Abbey published them:
"Did he kill you?"
"Was it you or your brother was killed in the war?"
"The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?"
"Were you alone or by yourself?"
"How long have you been a French Canadian?"
"Do you have any children or anything of that kind?"
"Do you recognize that picture?"
"And were you present when the picture was taken?"
"Now, Mrs. Johnson, how was your first marriage terminated?"
"And by whose death was it terminated?"
If you agree with Byrd, cut this out, send to him at the Senate and tell him, "You're a dandy senator."
But seriously, a moral breakthrough seems to be brewing over in Galway, according to veteran journalist Dick Senier. After confession, it seems, the priest asked the woman how many children she had. Two, said she, ages 8 and 10. He asked her age. Twenty-nine, said she. So where are the rest of them, he asked suspiciously.
Ah, said she, "I got the pill a while back and my troubles are over." The priest flew into a fit of holy ire: "And what does your husband think of this pill?"
Ah, said she, "he doesn't know a thing about it. Sure, don't I put it in his tea."
National Catholic Reporter, December 6, 1996