I have a confession to make. I’m not allowed in a confessional since seeing The Wizard of Oz & trying to pull back the curtain to expose who’s behind it. So, I’ll just confess right here on the Facebook.
I remember after “the incident” as they now refer to it, I was taken aside & admonished with a shaky finger: ‘Those priests don’t need any help from you! They’re more than capable of exposing themselves!’
It was loud enough that everybody in line for confession heard it. Some even chimed in “I hear Dat! Testify Brother!” I was still in the confessional when admonished. It was the last time I was in a confessional. If I get within 100 yards of one, I’m sprinkled liberally with holy water & it burns! Echoes of Linda Blair’s Exorcist or the Wicked Witch of Oz's meltdown. Or George’s ‘shrinkage’ cuz he was..." in the pool."
But enough about me! My confession I'm dying to unload is... It’s a Lenten Friday & I had a roast beef sandwich. It wasn’t premeditated. It was pretty spontaneous. It all began on Ass Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. As I mentioned in my call to an altar boy abuse hotline, I stopped going to church, cept on Ass Wednesday. I also volunteered "I still can’t watch Touched by an Angel.”
There! My burning desire is no longer spreading! No more fanning the flames! My fire has been snuffed out. Almost like I’ve been purged! That monkey’s off my back & I didn’t eat it!! My Mad Cow craving has been curbed. My cured beef is in remission—too much salt. Now, when I pass an Arby’s taunting me with “We have the Meats”, I’m no longer tempted. Good thing. 40 days & 40 nights, probably would’ve gone bad, eh?
Damn sins of the Flesh! And this time my cookies show no spicy porn!! I’m porn... uh... Born again. Like the late great John Lennon sang Just like Starting Over!! I’m on a roll... a veggie roll with Vermont White cheddar... least till next Friday! Remember what it says in the Good Book—neither a borrower nor a lender be. Least I think that’s what it said-- I Lent it out (talkin bout that good book, eh?)