It was a Divine Calling at 7th and Montana this morning as Rigolatte -- the man known for belting out opera tunes and laughing like a hyena for no apparent reason -- found religion. He made his way from table-to-table, calmly, rationally handing out leaflets and trying to build a congregation for a new church he has established. "Wow," I said, after declining one of his leaflets, "He sounds almost coherent. I wonder what his church is all about." "It's the Church of the Crazy," said Screenwriter Marc. And then, as if on cue, Rigolatte walked right up to oncoming traffic, flapped his arms rigorously and began squawking like a parrot -- "Wrrraaack ... Wrrraaack ... Wrrraaack ..." -- at the top of his lungs. He could be heard all the way down 7th Street. I don't know what kind of sermons he delivers, but something tells me his Church is strictly for the birds ...!