Thursday, December 29, 2011
CAFFEINE CONFESSIONAL ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I eavesdropped again at 7th and Montana this morning ... and I'm sure you would, too, if you saw what I saw. Sitting right there at the table next to me was a Priest busy counseling a member of his flock, a woman in her early forties. "Jackpot!," I muttered, whipping out my Spycam, "I've stumbled into a confessional. This should be interesting." But it wasn't. The woman -- damn her -- was speaking in hushed tones, so all I could make out was that she was frustrated about something. And the Priest -- heaven help us -- was mumbling. Every now and then I think he used the word "rosary," but then again, he might have been calling her "Rosemary." I felt like grabbing him by the collar and saying, "For the love of God, man, enunciate ... a blog entry hangs in the balance!" But no, I kept my mouth shut and missed their entire conversation. I tell you, nothing is sacred anymore ...!