They who climb too high a pedestal will end up wearing a Doric flat hat
Another week gone by and not even a phone call from the pope.
You're driving along and the driver in front of you does an illegal whatnot, such as an illegal left turn. Are you the type who hopes he (well, it would never be a she) gets caught, or do you secretly wish he gets away with it? Your response says a whole lot about who you are deep down. The above is pop psychology.
On certain days Sicperson (the handiwork of NCRperson Pierre Jorgensen) wakes up feeling like the picture. Frisky. We immediately resolve to climb every mountain, ford every stream, drink every Michelob, in short we go for the gusto, hitch up our toga, write a few pages of papyrus and voila! we're a monument from the heroic past.
Florence Walker of Edina writes, "Thanks for starting Sic again." She enclosed wisdom from high school papers:
"Thunder is a rich source of loudness."
Today I celebrate 76 years," adds Walker. That was last May 29. Sic belatedly names her Fabulous Woman of the Week.
Chuck Becker from Clifton writes pathetic poetry while out on a theological limb:
In this church that has always been male,
If there's one thing Sic is famous for, it's reminding the unwary that the next pope may be the man sitting next to you even as you read this. Or the man with battered suit and cheap plastic collar at the mall eating a hot dog. Or the one who took an illegal turn just ahead of you -- it could be Naples, Buffalo, God knows where. The point is, he's out there. And, not being pope yet, he could be doing goofy things like illegal turns -- hell, he's not even infallible yet.
Meanwhile, serious questions from, we
think, the Web:
But -- are you sitting down? -- not only is the next pope out there, so is the one after that. Indeed, it may be the one after that who took the illegal turn. Experts say the next pope will be an old one -- figure it out -- so the one after the next one is probably sixtysomething as we speak. And a hot dog eater.
One asks oneself: When he sees the next pope elected, will the one-after-that pity him for taking on such a big burden, or will he be jealous that it wasn't himself and he already sixtysomething and maybe thinking his career is over?
Tourists have been gathering in Roswell for the 50th anniversary of the alleged crash of aliens and their craft. Explains the Cutler Daily Scoop: "Once again, intelligent life is not landing in the desert."
Dennis Hope from Rio Vista has been selling off the moon for big bucks. First he wrote the White House, the Kremlin, the UN and others, staking his claim. No one objected. By mid-June he had sold 10,000 parcels -- 1,777 acres a shot, which seems generous, but why should he be stingy, since he is sole owner of the whole universe other than earth? The price, according to the Los Angeles Times, is $15.99 plus tax and shipping. This proves once again that capitalism works. Communism wouldn't have a chance out there in deep space.
Writes Joan Panaro from Santa Rosa, "I need to add a last line to Dillon's second limerick" (NCR, May 23). She did:
... "And bury that pile of schtick."
Dan Brown sent in the syllabus from
the University of Oregon, including the following:
More science from the fifth
If anyone tells you hubris isn't out to get you, don't believe it. Or, in the words of the legendary Erik "The Red" Skallagrim:
For whoever shall be placed
This is how Sicperson came to be wearing the Doric Look.
Let's face it, the next five or six popes are probably out there. Acting like real people. Some are preaching or pastoring or maybe going to high school. That little guy who just wet his diaper may be papabile, not to mention that altar girl with the infallible look in her eye. It's enough to keep Cardinal Ratzinger awake at night.
National Catholic Reporter, August 15, 1997