Catholic Nuns Unveiled

Catholic Nun Vigilantes

Ever wonder what Catholic Nuns look like outside the church walls? Wonder no more, the Grassy Knoll Institute snapped this rare photograph of four Nuns out loose in the wild.

As evidenced, Catholic Nuns are a very dangerous species. Upon them hearing the click of my digital camera, (50 Fucking Feet Away) all four nuns reeled around in unison pointing their hand guns with deadly aim at my head. (Notice the pleasure it caused them to have me in their sites)

I was lucky to escape. My 8 years of attending Catholic grade school in the 1960's helped me survive.

Every child learned the Duck and Serpentine manuever. It was a critical lesson of survival. With an eraser in hand, a nuns aim was deadly.

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Irish Humor - The Devil You Say

Every evening old Paddy Flaherty came home drunk and the missus was not to happy it either. She decides to shock Paddy sober. So the next evening she hides in the cemetery behind the tombstones to scare the beejeezus out of him. As poor Paddy wanders by, drunk of course, the missus, dressed in a red devil costume, jumps from behind a tombstone and lets out a blood curling scream.

Paddy looked startled. The missus then said in a deep demonic voice, "Paddy Flaherty, sure enough if you don't give up you're drinkin' it'll be to Hell I'll be taking ye'." Pat, undaunted, staggered back and demanded in a stern voice, "Just who the hell be you?!" The Missus replied, "I'm the devil ya' damned old fool!" Paddy looked relieved and replied, "Damned glad to meet you sir, I married yer sister 30 years ago!"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Irish Humor - House Of Ill Repute

Pat and Mike were doing some street repairs in front of a well known house of ill repute in Boston when along came a Jewish Rabbi walking down the street. The Rabbi looked to his left, then to his right, and quickly ducked into the house. Pat paused a bit from swinging his pick and said "Mike... will you look at that! A man of the cloth, and going into a place like that in broad daylight!"

A wee bit later, a Baptist minister came down the street. The Minister looked to his left, then to his right, and then scurried into the house. Mike laid down his shovel, turned to Pat and said "Pat! Are you seeing what
I'm seeing right now? A man of the Church, and he's giving that place his custom!"

About twenty minutes later a Catholic Priest came down the street. The Priest looked to his left, then to his right, and waltzed into the bawdy house of ill refute. Pat and Mike straightened up upon seeing this with their own eyes, quickly removed their hats, bowed their heads, as Mike says "Faith be to Jesus, there must be somebody sick in there."

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Anatomy Of A Catholic Mass

I have been asked by many non-Catholics just what goes on during a Sunday mass. Being a former Altar Boy, I think I can amply field this question.

To the naked eye and non believers, it appears that Sunday mass is nothing more than a very upscale exercise program. You see a lot of standing, sitting, standing, sitting, kneeling, singing, standing, sitting, and walking. (A regular aerobic exercise) (They should charge for the workout. Get your heart and soul fit with the Lord)

But to the trained observer (Me) and Catholic parishioners, there really is a method to the madness. As always, to understand, we must start at the beginning.

Catholic mass can be broken down into 5 segments.
1) Intro
2) Damnation
3) Fire and Brimstone
4) Feast
5) Outro

The Intro, or introduction of the mass, is a very important part. This part determines the length of the mass by what priest is running the show. A Parrish usually has 2-3 priests in the collective and each one has their own style and pace to say mass. Depending on your luck of the draw, you could be in for a 20 minute, 45 minute, or 75 minute or more service. (No matter the length, at this point everyone is standing.)

How the priest begins mass tells you everything you need to know how long the mass will be. The long version introduction begins with the priest, altar boys, deacon, and a member of the congregation carrying the good book. They all gather at the back of the church and make a grand entrance with organs blazing. It's sort of like a parade, just one you don't want to go to.

The cross bearer altar boy leads the way, followed closely by the good book carrier, then a short distance behind are the altar boy servers, then the deacon, usually in a beard and robe, and lastly, the priest slowly walking up the center church aisle taking his place on the altar facing the congregation as we belt out one of the classics.

The medium version is less drawn out. There is no book hauler, no deacon, no cross bearer, just two altar boys and the priest. The medium mass has the procession coming from the side entrance, a much shorter distance, hence, a much shorter hymn. The altar boys walk in front of the priest and all three walk immediately up to the altar.

The short version is quicker yet. There is no procession and no hymn. Just a short blast from the organ and as if by magic, the priest and altar boys seem to appear on the altar and the mass begins straight away. (Usually, there is an entrance behind the altar that the priest and altar boys come out from. No trap doors or smoke screens like magicians use)

Each priest would then stay in long, medium, or short mode for the rest of the mass meaning each segment would either be long and drawn out or fly like shit through a goose.

It was obvious the priest saying the short mass was the most popular and best attended services. Parishioners knew that speedy Father Flanigan always did the 10 am service and the church would be packed. Twenty minutes to save your soul on a Sunday morning was far better than the 75 minutes of hell at the 11:30 service. Us Catholics ain't no dummies. We're damned to hell, but ain't no dummies.

However, the church countered with a revised schedule and rotated the priests for different mass times not letting the congregation know in advance who would be saying what mass. (Bastards!)

The intro is over. We now move forward to the second segment of a Catholic mass, The Damnation. (Consisting of standing then sitting several times with a few Amens tossed in.)

The Damnation covers several rituals of the mass. The first being the evil look of the priest upon late comers attempting to sneak into the back of the church after mass had started. Usually these late comers would try to quickly blend in. Some would take the first available pew and stare straight ahead. Some would walk to the back of the church in the dimly lit part and stand. And some would walk in and immediately stop at random, and stay in that exact spot for the duration. Much like a deer being caught in the headlights of a pickup truck full of rednecks hunting for Thanksgiving Day dinner.

The second part of the damnation comes during the prayer and hymn sessions. (During this part, there are some rapid standing and sitting protocols.) You must learn to follow along. Otherwise, you are hopelessly lost. (Like Born Again Christians)

The priest would scan the congregation searching for parishioners not participating. When he spotted one not singing or saying the prayer loud enough, he would zero in on him/her, maintain eye contact until the entire congregation was looking at this poor soul, and then slowly but deliberately, shake his head back and forth in disgust. The unlucky soul would then be the talk of the morning during coffee and dough nuts after mass. You could bet he or she would be singing loud and proud next week damn it.

After Damnation, we move into the third segment, Fire And Brimstone. (Also known as the Gospel reading and sermon) Each Sunday, the priest would take to his pulpit and read aloud from the Gospel. He would pick a passage meant to inspire the congregation to be generous, forgiving, and to love God. (But mostly to be generous, especially during the collection plate pass around) (This segment involved only sitting for fear the priests words would make people pass out in fright and fall down.)

After the Gospel reading, the priest would offer his sermon to us all. (I would describe us as lambs being led to slaughter) The sermon was supposed to touch on the Gospel passage and how we in modern times, abide or deny the teachings of Christ.

Instead, we usually got the priest yelling at the congregation about the pitiful collection from last weeks masses. He would stress that the church needs even more money from us to continue doing God's work. (Didn't Jesus give away all his possessions) He would say those of us not giving at least 10% of our income should be ashamed to be Catholic and we better make it up in this week's collection lest the Lord look poorly upon us. (Apparently, the priest had a hot tip for the football game later that day)

The priest would then shift gears and drop it down into overdrive. His eyes would turn a golden brown and fire would come out of his mouth. (No, not really! But it sounded like it) At this point, the priest would rant and rave about how we, the congregation, need to help the church with more than just money donations. He would preach that there was plenty of work to be done around the school and church. He needed parents to volunteer for coaching, CCD class, hot lunch program, maintenance and repair of the church, rectory, and school. And the priests car.

All this time his hands would be very mobile waving them up and down and back and forth. Reminded me of a pizza maker, the way he would throw the dough in the air and spin it around. (If this priest thing didn't work out, Cornersburg Pizza shop could certainly use him)

It was now time for the Feast, segment 4, also known as communion time. (This segment involves standing, walking, kneeling, sitting, more standing, kneeling, and finally sitting.)

But first, we had to pay for the feast. The ushers would appear carrying felt covered baskets with very long handles and place it right under your nose and wait for you to open your wallet or purse and dump your cash into the basket. The ushers were very skilled at handling the baskets as never a dollar bill hit the floor. Once the baskets were full, the feast would begin.

Next, the priest and altar boys would huddle together with some secret handshakes and whispered incantations on the altar as gifts were exchanged and promises made. (I will explain all in a future update, I promise) A few bells rings signified that the feast was ready to be served. The ushers quickly came to the front of the church to prevent a stampede to the altar. (The food must really be good.) As the congregation filed up to the altar in perfect straight lines, hands folded, and without talking, it dawned on me why the Catholic nuns made us school kids practice forming lines every day. For the feast!

Finally, the Outro is upon us. (This segment involves sitting, then standing, and finally, walking or running out of the church to your car.)

The Outro is signaled by the lurkers in the back of the church edging towards the exit doors. Beating the traffic is a big part of Catholic mass. With only one road leaving the church, traffic backs up quickly. The priest asks the congregation to please rise, (Please, so now he's fucking polite, where was the politeness when he told us we were all going to hell for not putting enough money in the collection basket.) (I must confess, once I put an empty envelope in the collection basket and signed someone else's name to it. I am sure that family got the full frontal fire and brimstone from the happy betting priest)

Once the congregation were standing, the priest would say a quick prayer, make the sign of the cross and announce, "The mass is ended, you may go in peace." By the time the word peace was uttered, more than half the people were already battling each other in the parking lot.

There you have it. A typical Catholic mass explained. I know after you read this, you will all want to convert to Catholicism. Who would want to miss out on this action.

BTW, this was the 11:30 am mass. Next time, maybe you will get lucky and get the short version.

Short Version: Stand, Amen, sit, stand, Amen, sit, sit, stand, Amen, kneel, stand, form a line, walk, knell, sit, stand, leave. Salvation!

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My First Holy Communion

I had just endured and survived my first holy Confession on Saturday: (Walk in single line into church on Saturday, sit in pews, wait for red light to go out, watch kid with freshly cleansed soul walk out, walk in confessional box, sit down, wait for priest, tell your sins, lie about a few of them, wait for absolution, get lecture, get absolution, finally, get penance, leave confessional, kneel in pews, say penance, leave church.) leaving me with a clean slate on my soul but not on My Permanent Record. Dare I say I was ready for the next phase of my catholic faith, my first holy communion.

Damn, (Say two Our Fathers and two Hail Mary's) I thought I was ready, but I found out there was actually a class for holy communion. And I had to study and there would be tests. Jesus Christ! (Say another 5 Our fathers and Five Hail Mary's for taking the Lord's name in vain) Seriously, how hard could it be. I have been dragged to church for several years and I did watch what the adults did when it was time for holy communion.

Stand up when it was your row's turn, fold your hands in prayer, get in line, walk up to the priest at the altar, open your mouth, stick your tongue out at the priest, (That was the great part) exchange some secret words, take the host on your tongue, close your mouth, say Amen, turn and walk back in line to your pew, kneel, and say a prayer. I had this down, I didn't need to take any stinking tests or read any books on first communion. I was ready dammit. (Close profanity word, just in case, say three Our Fathers and a sincere Act of Contrition)

Alas, the Nuns had other plans for us. For weeks, we practiced the above ritual. Getting in line, (Like we never had to get in line at school before, lines were our goddamn lives, (Yes, more Hail Mary's) we knew how to get in a line) walking up to the altar, simulating taking the host, and returning to our pews. We practiced day in and day out, took test after written test until we were ready. We even learned new church songs for this festive occasion. Let There Be Peace On Earth is the only song I can remember. Even back then, in second grade, the Nuns told me to sing the hymns very quietly so as to not take the rest of the class out of tune. (Fucking bitch nuns!) (Ten Hail Mary's, Ten Our Fathers)

That Sunday morning, I prepared for church, and being that it was my first communion, I wasn't allowed to eat anything an hour before church. Damn, (Two Hail Mary's, Two Our Fathers) I was screwed. I didn't have time to get dressed and eat breakfast. I went hungry. Instead of eating, I had to put on my new shoes, new dark blue navy pants, white shirt, and clip on blur navy tie. Even for church, I had to wear a goddamn uniform. (Just keep saying the Rosary for penance)

When we arrived at church, the nuns herded all the first communion kids into the back hall of the church. We were ready to demonstrate that after two months of practice, we could walk down the aisle in a single file line. (Very impressive. But you are not a Jedi Knight yet!)

A few minutes before the show got on the road, the nuns opened a small canister that contained the thin white wafer hosts. The nuns said these were un-blessed and were to be used as practice hosts. WTF! (A solid Act of Contrition please) Apparently, as the story went from the nuns, several years back, a first holy communion kid almost choked to death when he received his host from the priest because it stuck to the roof of his mouth and he panicked causing him to spit the body of Christ out of his mouth. Luckily, the altar boy caught the host with his paten (Plate) before the blessed host hit the ground.

Anyway, the nuns said we were to practice with these ones before we went live. Of course mine got caught on the roof of my mouth. I didn't spit it out though. I used my tongue to slowly move it and un-stick it from the roof of my mouth. (All you Catholics know exactly what I mean.)

A minute later, the main event was on. All of us slowly began our march up the church aisle hands folded in (Steeple prayer mode) and promptly took our place at the front of the church.

Thirty minutes later, it was our time. Ready to accept the body and blood of Christ for the first time. As I approached the altar and kneeled I made sure I didn't stumble or fall off the kneeler as I stayed perfectly still. The priest made his way down the altar like an assembly line worker. I could hear him saying over and over again, "The body of Christ," as if he were asking us a question not making a statement.

About two kids away, I thought about the body and blood of Christ and a moment of terror filled my mind. I forgot all about the "Blood" part. The bible story about Jesus changing water into wine popped into my head and I wondered if the practice water based host I had earlier would taste the same as the blood version. I was about to find out.

My turn was here. The priest approached me, whispered, "The body of Christ" and I correctly answered "Amen," opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue and received the host. I got up, returned to my pew, kneeled and said said my communion prayer.

I was now a full fledged Catholic. A member of the gang. I was wondering if I got to vote now on church hymns and Gospel passages. (I wasn't) Instead, I was treated to a first communion breakfast and afterward, I had a small family party, sort of like my birthday.

The next week, when communion time came, I strolled up with the rest of the adults, kneeled down and waited for the priest to come my way. Being the old pro I performed the ritual without a glitch. However, I was stuck at the kneeler. My right knee had slipped between the dividers and I was stuck. Damn! (Three Hail Mary's and three Our Fathers)

Using the railing I pushed with all my might and in doing so lost my balance and although I didn't hit the ground I looked like I was drunk doing the humpty dance trying to regain my balance. I got several snickers from the congregation and a death stare from my mother. Several nuns on the side also gave me the evil eye. Even out of school I was getting in trouble with the god damn nuns. (Five Hail Marys)

Next Sunday would be better. I swear!

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Irish Language Lost In Translation

The Irish speak English. Not the kings English, not the American English, but a dialect all their own. Sometimes you must pay close attention to what they are saying and many times what the commentator is saying has a completely different meaning to others. Here are some examples.....

At a women's weightlifting tournament:
Next up is Shannon O'Malley... I saw her snatch this
morning and it was amazing.

At an Irish horse race event:
Tis really a lovely horse, I once rode her mother.

At a soccer championship game:
He's pulling him off! The manager is pulling his
captain off!

Soccer player interview:
I've never had major knee surgery on any other part of my body.

Announcer At Ireland's race speedway:
The lead car is absolutely unique, except for the one behind it
which is identical.

Interview at a charity event:
I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father.

Commentator at boxing event:
Sure there have been injuries and deaths in boxing - but none
of them serious.

Irish TV Weatherman:
If history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same
thing again.

At an Irish football game:
"I would not say he is the best left winger in
the Premiership, but there are none better."

Commentator at a boat race:
Ah, isn't that lovely indeed, the wife of the Cambridge president is kissing the cox of the Oxford crew.

Commentator at an indoor track meet:
O'Toole has four fastest 1500-meter times ever. And all those
times are at 1500 meters.

Commentator at soccer field:
Julian Dicks is everywhere. It's like they've got eleven Dicks
on the field.

Commentator reporting the news:
"And later we will have action from the men's cockless pairs..."

Irish betting:
"Well, either side could win it, or it could be a draw."

Irish observation at a soccer game:
"Strangely, in slow motion replay, the ball seemed to hang in
the air for even longer."

Irish interview with a retiring sports star:
"What will you do when you leave the sport of soccer? Will you stay in soccer?"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Irish Comedian Hal Roach Passing

Hal Roach, Ireland's finest comedian, spins some yarns about the people of Ireland and how we walk and talk and conduct business. enjoy.

This Irish fella Murphy walked into a Macy's store and asked the sales clerk to show him the cheapest suit in the store.
The sales clerk replied, "You're wearing it."

Did you hear about the Kerry man who was disqualified at the annual tug of war contest?
He was pushing!

When reading the Irish obituaries, sometimes you have to read very carefully as certain words have different meanings.
Example:
To my husband Shamus O’ Shawnessey, May he rest in peace, Until we meet again!

Sometimes when the Irish talk amongst themselves, we answer a question first, and then we ask it. Examples:
You won't be having a drink with me will ya Paddy?
You're not going out are you?
Have you not gone home yet? (As he sees me at the bar)

I was traveling in County Mayo late one evening and stopped outside a little boarding house. I knocked on the door and a second later the top floor window opened and a woman yelled down, "What do you want so late in the evening?" I asked, "Could I stay here for the evening?" The woman yelled down to me, "YES!" and then closed the window.

Addendum:
Sadly, Hal Roach, Ireland's international comedian, passed away this morning, February 28th, 2012. Mr. Roach was 84 years old.
May he have been in Heaven an hour before the devil knew he was dead.

I'm sure the first question he asked St. Peter at the pearly gates was, "Is that yourself?"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Irish Hospital Charts - Be Very Afraid

Ireland has free health care to all it's citizens. And by reading some of these hospital charts, I can see why.

She has no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was very hot in bed last night.

Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a year.

The patient is tearful and crying constantly. She also appears to be depressed.

The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993.

Discharge status: Alive but without my permission.

Healthy appearing decrepit 69-year-old male, mentally alert but forgetful.

The patient refused autopsy.

The patient has no previous history of suicides.

Patient's medical history has been remarkably insignificant with only a 40-pound weight gain in the past three days.

She is numb from her toes down.

Patient has exhibited occasional constant infrequent headaches.

Patient was alert and unresponsive.

I saw your patient today, who is still under our car for physical therapy.

Both breasts are equal and reactive to light and accommodation.

Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized.

The patient was to have a bowel resection. However, he took a job as a stockbroker instead.

The pelvic exam will be done later on the floor.

Patient was seen in consultation by Dr. Blank, who felt we should sit on the abdomen, and I agree.

Large brown stool ambulating in the hall.

Patient has two teenage children but no other abnormalities.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Irish Humor To Start Your Day

Patrick O'Malley hoisted his beer and said: "Here's to spending the rest of me life between the legs of me wife!" - and he took home the top prize for the best toast of the night.
In bed later that night, he told his wife: "Mary, I won the prize for the best toast of the night." She said, "Aye, Paddy, what was your toast?"
So he told her: "Here's to spending the rest of me life sitting in church beside me wife."
"Oh," she said, "that is very nice, dear."
The next day, Mary ran into one of Paddy's drinking partners in the street. Mischievously, the man said: "Did you hear about your husband winning a prize in the pub the other night for a toast about you, Mary?"
She replied: "Aye - and I was a bit surprised. Till now, he's only been down there twice. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come".

--------------------------
Three guys, one Irish, one English, and one Scottish, are out walking along the beach together one day. They come across a lantern and a Genie pops out of it. "I will give you each one wish, that's three wishes in total", says the Genie.

The Scottish guy says, "I am a fisherman, my Dad's a fisherman, his Dad was a fisherman and my son will be one too. I want all the oceans full of fish for all eternity." So, with a blink of the Genie's eye, FOOM! The oceans were teaming with fish.

The Englishman was amazed, so he said, "I want a wall around England, protecting her, so that no one will get in for all eternity." Again, with a blink of the Genie's eye POOF! There was a huge wall around England.

The Irishman asks, "I'm very curious. Please tell me more about this wall." The Genie explains, "well, it's about 150 feet high, 50 feet thick, protecting England so that nothing can get in or out."

The Irishman says, "Fill it up with water."

-----------------

An aging man lived alone in Ireland. His only son was in Long Kesh Prison, and he didn't know anyone who would spade up his potato garden. The old man wrote to his son about it, and received this reply, "For HEAVENS SAKE, don't dig up that garden, that's where I buried the GUNS!!!!!"

At 4 A.M. the next morning, a dozen British soldiers showed up and dug up the entire garden, but didn't find any guns. Confused, the man wrote to his son telling him what happened and asking him what to do next.

His son's reply was: "Just plant your potatoes."

------------------

A young gentleman sitting at a bar with his pet pig asks for a couple of drinks. The confused bartender said no animals were allowed at the bar. The man proceeded to say "Ah, but this is a very special pig. Just last week there was a fire in the house and that pig came charging out of his pen into the house and woke us all up .Then a few days later my son fell into the pool and that pig was grazing out on the lawn, and he came running and jumped into the pool and saved my son. ""Well " said the bartender "I guess this pig is very special so I'll get him a drink. By the way I noticed that he is missing one leg, what happened? " "Well said the young man, when you got a pig this good you don't eat him all at once !!!"

----------------
Pat and Mick landed themselves a job at a sawmill. Just before morning tea Pat yelled: "Mick! I lost me finger!"
"Have you now?" says Mick. "And how did you do it?"
"I just touched this big spinning thing here like thi...
Darn! There goes another one!"
----------------

Two old drunks on their way home from the pub, were stumblin up the country road in near darkness, "Seamus, I think we've stumbled into the graveyard - look, I can see a stone here that says a man lived to 105!"

"Glory be Malarki, was it anybody we knew?"

"No, twas somebody named 'Miles from Dublin'"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Irish Catholic Confession Penance

Making Poteen (Moonshine) is a sin in Ireland.
This fella goes to confession and gets the newly appointed priest. The fella begins, bless me father for I have sinned, I have made 8 gallons of poteen.

The new priest, unaware of what the penance for poteen (Moonshine) is in this parish, tells the gentleman to hold on a second and he'll be right back. The young priest leaves the confessional, walks into the sacristy where the Bishop is half asleep and says, "This fella in the confessional made 8 gallons of poteen, what should I give him?" The Bishop says, "Give him two pounds a gallon and not a penny more."

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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An Irish Fairy Tale

Shannon O'Malley wants to go to the ball, but her wicked stepmother won't let her. As Shannon sits weeping in the garden, her fairy godmother appears and promises to provide Shannon with everything she needs to go to the ball, but only on two conditions.

"First, you must wear a diaphragm." We all know what happens after these balls now don't we Shannon. And what would the priest say when he sees you in church?
Shannon agrees and asks what the second condition is.

"You must be home by 2:00 a.m. Any later, and your diaphragm will turn into a pumpkin."
Shannon nods and agrees to be home by 2:00 a.m.

Of course, 2:00 am comes and goes but Shannon doesn't show up! Finally, at 5:00 a.m. when the cock is crowing, Shannon shows up, looking love struck and very satisfied.
"Where have you been?" demands the Fairy Godmother. "Your diaphragm was supposed to turn into a pumpkin three hours
ago!!!"
Shannon, still panting, replied, "I met a prince, Fairy Godmother. He took care of everything and we had a wonderful time after the ball."

The Fairy Godmother stated, "I know of no prince with that kind of power! I demand that you tell me his name!"

Shannon replied, I can't remember his name exactly,... It was Peter, Peter, something or other eater."

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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The Essential Irish List

As by now you more than likely guessed that I am Irish. If you haven't, then you must be English....
Anyway, the following is my Irish list. A sort of best off Ireland.

My Favorite Irish Singer:
Van Morrison. Brown Eyed Girl.
U2 - Rock and roll from Bono and Edge for decades now and still going strong.
Enya - Just because of her Celtic voice and haunting melodies.
Irish Rovers - Yes, the unicorn song.

Favorite Irish Actors:
Colin Farrell. Best in S.W.A.T. and Daredevil.
Liam Neeson. A Jedi Knight and a teacher to the Caped Crusader Batman.
Pierce Brosnan. Bond, James Bond.

Favorite Actress:
Maureen OHara. Her role as Kate in the Movie "The Quiet Man" was made for her.

Favorite Irish Movie:
A Quiet Man. Starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. A glimpse into old Irish country. Pretty funny story with plenty of beautiful scenery and Irish Catholic stereotypes.
Leprechaun. Yes, a Sci-Fi spoof about an evil Leprechaun on a killing spree after a group of people steal his pot of gold.

Favorite Irish Song:
Into the Mystic - Van Morrison
Danny Boy.

Favorite Irish Comedian:
Hal Roach. "Write it down, it's a good one."
Dennis Leary. "Can I just buy coffee flavored coffee?"

Favorite Irish Dancer:
Begrudgingly, Michael Flatly, Lord of the Riverdance.
Aww, who am I kidding. I hate Lord of the dance.

Favorite Irish Beer:
Guinness (Is there any other?)

Favorite Irish Ship:
Alas, tis was the Titanic. Several of my relatives attempted to cross the Atlantic on that ship. Alas, third class passengers didn't have much of a chance to survive.

Favorite Irish Saying:
"Is that yourself?" When seeing someone you know.
"Shut up lest ye be feelin the back of me hand!"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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Nookie Green Irish Humor

To kick off the St. Patrick's Day weekend holiday, I offer an old family joke told over and over this time around St. Patrick's day.

When our family gets together, and there are a lot of us, we sit around the dinner table and tell old jokes. This is one of my favorites. Don’t stop me if you’ve heard it already, I have to much fun telling it again and again.

Father Flanagan enters the confessional ready to listen to the parishioners confess their sins. He hears the door creek open and a male voice begins to speak…..
“Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been one month since my last confession. I have had sex with Nookie Green every week for the last month.” Father Flanagan, hearing almost the same confession just the day before from Paddy begins to realize that Nookie Green is becoming very popular with the male parishioners. Then, he tells the sinner, “You are forgiven. Go now and say three Hail Mary’s and three Our Fathers.”

Soon, another man enters the confessional and begins, “Bless me Father, it has been two months since my last confession. I have had sex with Nookie Green twice a week for the last two months.” This time Father Flanagan simply has to ask — “Who is Nookie Green?”
“A new widow woman in town,” the sinner replies. “Very well,” says the priest. “Go now and for penance, say ten Hail Mary’s and ten Our Fathers.” With that, the priest leaves the church wondering, what’s going on with this widow named Nookie Green?

The next morning in church Father Flanagan is preparing to deliver his sermon,when suddenly a gorgeously tall woman enters. All the men’s eyes fall upon her, as she slowly sashays up the aisle and sits down right in front of the priest. Her dress is a shiny bright green and way too short, and she is wearing matching shiny emerald green shoes, and a green boa.

Father Flanagan and the alter boys gasp, as the woman in the matching green outfit, sits there with her legs slightly spread apart. Father Flanagan turns to the alter boy and whispers, “Is that Nookie Green?” The alter boy, breathing hard, squints his eyes and replies; “No, I think it’s just the reflection off her shoes.”

Happy St. Patrick's Day To Ye

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

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LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Catholic Nuns Plotting My Eternal Damnation

His Permanent Record Is Almost Full

Catholic nuns smirking and gloating over my permanent record. Damn bitches were plotting my demise and eternal damnation to hell.

The Grassy Knoll Institute can now confirm that Catholic nuns in the 1960's were cooking the books making Catholic kids appear more sinful than they really were. The nuns, A/K/A crafty demons from hell, realized that they would be out of business and obsolete if the children were well behaved and well mannered. Perhaps being reassigned to more private church activities such as decorating the church for Easter and Christmas seasons and cooking and serving the spaghetti dinners. Certainly a notch down from the power they wielded teaching the grade school children.

But the nuns had an ace in the hole. The Permanent Record. The permanent record was the ammunition and control for the nuns. By simply doctoring the books, adding a mortal sin and few venial sins to each child's record, all Catholics took a giant step towards damnation. Nobody questioned the Nun Mafia. If a nun called the parents of a child informing them that said child was behaving badly, there was no discussion between parents and child, it commenced right to the beatings. This was the type of power that nuns of the 1960's had.

This is one of the main reasons that I vowed to bring the nun mafia to their knee's. (A place they've never been before) One child's quest, against a formidable foe, a modern day David and Goliath. My battle lasted eight long years and some say the nuns won, but some notice that today, nuns are almost extinct and will soon be on the endangered species list. I leave that evidence as my testament that I had won the battle.

Take that bitches.

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

The Catholic Spelling Bee

The Setting: A typical Catholic grade school spelling bee tournament.
40 Children lined up against the lockers shoulder to shoulder in firing squad fashion. (With these nuns, you never wanted to give them that opportunity)
One nun sat at her desk holding a list of words while another nun patrolled the firing squad line making sure no student talked or attempted to cheat.
The nun at the desk would call out the next student in line: "David, spell the word 'Television'."
David speaks: "Television, T-E-L-E-V-I-S-I-O-N, television."
Nun at desk: "Correct David. Patrick, you are next. Spell the word "Antidisestablishmentarianism."
And that is how many spelling bee's I participated in went.

Except one. Every year, one student, a girl, named Maryellen, (A well known nun ass kisser) won the spelling Bee each year. The "Bee" was simply a formality as most students didn't even want to be in the police line up, (Bee line up) and it appeared that Maryellen got all the easy words to spell. If she would had graciously accepted the certificate without gloating, I wouldn't be writing this update. But she needed to be stopped.

Maryellen was rumored to prep for the spelling bee all year long and she would be hard to beat. I would need to be at the top of my game. I decided to actually study and rise to the occasion. I would defeat Maryellen and make her mad as hell. (Yea, that was my plan)

Next year's spelling bee came around and instead of getting purposely eliminated in round one, I actually tried for once. I got past round one, then round two, and finally it was just Maryellen and me. After several more tense rounds for Maryellen, she missed and went down. (Hey dirty minds, this was a Catholic school here) I was now the champion. I looked over at Maryellen and gave her a big "YEA!!" My mission was complete, and I proudly took my seat.

The next day sister Charlotte told me since I won the class spelling bee, I would be competing against the other class champions. And that winner would represent the school and compete in the district championship, and then to the state spelling bee. This sounded like a whole lot of work to me. All I wanted to do was smite Maryellen, (Which I did) and what do I get? I get nuns looking out for me, making sure I'm feeling OK and acting like they were now my personal body guards. I was in bizarro world.

I told sister Charlotte I didn't want to compete anymore. I just wanted to win my class. I told her to let Maryellen go instead. DENIED!!! She wouldn't have it.

After a week of being denied recess and instead having the nuns tutor me in spelling, I was ready for the school spelling bee. All 8 grades worth.....

After losing a week of recess, and knowing if I won this round, I would be practicing more and more with the nuns, I took action..... to save my soul and my sanity.

The day of the school Bee had come. All eight of us lined up in the church, from grade one through eight. We had a great turnout as the entire school was present to watch and listen to us spell words. (In reality, the students had no choice, we were more like inmates than students) When it was my turn, the nun gave me my word. I simply said I didn't know and then proceeded to sit down. I had taken about three steps when the nun stopped me.

She said for me to take a guess at the spelling of the word. I said no, I didn't know. The nun got angry and told me that I wasn't trying. I nodded and confirmed that she was correct for once. I wasn't trying, nor did I want to try. I had explained this to her a week earlier but sister Charlotte had selective hearing. So there we were....

The nun in charge gave me a disgusted glare, took a deep breath, and with a stern voice, commanded me to get back in line and spell the word given. So I simply said, "Apostle, (Which was the word, it was a Catholic school mind you) L-U-K-E, Apostle." The audience started laughing which infuriated the nuns.

The nun, following procedure to the letter, told me it was incorrect and then told me to sit down. I left the firing squad, err, police line up, err, spelling bee line and found a seat in the audience to cheers and clapping. No standing ovation as the nuns warned all of us that no one was to stand except for the eight kids in the contest. A dagger flying stare by the nuns silenced the crowd immediately.

Sometimes, the best laid plans for smiting goes terribly wrong. But what the hell, I kicked her ass in the bee and it was over now. Until I got home from school and my mother was waiting at the door. Yes, the son-of-a-bitch nuns had decided to make a call home to my mom to tell her how well I did at the spelling bee....

Can you spell spanking......

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

A Question About Noah

In our last episode, the Pastor had made a courtesy call home to my parents to give them an updated progress report on my day's behavior. I would have to be patient before provoking the nuns once again.

A week had passed and the days of waiting had now ended. It was time to attack the nuns once again. I was going to follow Wild Kingdoms Marlin Perkins hunting credo that once you get the animals on the run, never let them slow down to give the animals any time to rest. I set my task to the test.

As the students filed in one by one that particular day, the nun in charge gave me a glancing look as if she knew something was about to happen, much like the antelope before an earthquake knowing that something terrible was about to happen.

The nuns must have begun to suspect that they were in a match to the death with me. It would be a duel of wits. Of course the nuns came to fight unarmed. I was now sure that all their so-called faculty meetings were merely a ruse to disguise their plans to keep order in their classroom and to keep me off balance. I would have to figure out a way to bug the office to learn of their plans in advance. I needed that edge. After all, I was only in second grade.

The nuns were getting smarter but I had my ace in the hole and its name was Noah.

Our religion lesson began with the nuns telling us of a horrific flood that was coming to destroy the entire earth and all the people and animals. This particular day, the nuns treaded cautiously in choosing their words to describe that day's lesson. When the lesson had finished, it was now time for question and answer time.

MY favorite time. I decided to start off slowly this time with the nuns so as not to elicit suspicion quickly. I would ask legitimate questions first and then build to the climatic question that would send me to the principles office. In fact, I would let other students begin the interrogation. The perfect plan was in motion. Timmy and Tommy and Betty asked some brown noser questions to get them some brownie nun points much to the nuns delight. I almost saw one nun crack a smile, but I was wrong. These nuns were well trained.

At this moment I began my assault. I asked what the animals ate on the ark during the 40 days and nights. Another volley.

Then I asked that since lions and tigers only ate meat, what did Noah feed them.

I brought up snakes and how they had to eat their prey alive. I asked if Noah had to sacrifice several species of small mammals to keep the snakes from dying of starvation.

What about the birds? Were they kept in cages or did Noah let them fly free?

The stage had been set. The nuns were becoming agitated. The answers coming a little more quickly with less thought processes. They were getting a little sloppy.

It was time...

I raised my hand one last time, 5 minutes before class was to end. The nuns thought they had escaped. They were wrong. As fate would have it, sister Sharlett announced only one more question would be answered today due to time constraints. My hand was the only hand raised. Poised. Ready. Confident.

I began slowly, asking the nun if she remembered a previous lesson on Adam and Eve. She nodded in a positive way giving me the leverage I needed to continue.

I quickly asked that if only Noah, his wife, his three sons and their wives were the only humans to survive, then how did they re-populate the world? Yes, the hammer had dropped. The death knell had been rung. Sister Sharlett looked on stunned, waiting for the question to fully sink in.

As if she were in a cartoon, it seemed like a light bulb turned on over her head and a scowl covered her face. She had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker and I was reeling her in. She was about to inform the class the real reason why we are all considered brothers and sisters. It was because Noah's sons and daughters paired up with each other and were fruitful and multiplied. Again, the entire story of Noah was based on incest.

As usual, the nuns in the room became furious. Very loud cackling could be heard as they quickly huddled together much like a football huddle. Seconds later, I was being dragged by my heels out of the office, down the hall to the Pastors office. Yes, this time the principles office was bypassed. I must have been very special.

I began to think that the nuns had changed their pattern to confuse me, frighten me, to get the upper hand. Being a veteran of the wrath of the nuns, I was not worried for I knew the ultimate outcome would be a trip to the Pastors office. Bypassing the principles office was merely an added bonus.

As luck would have it, the Pastor was in a meeting and very busy at the time but he did take a moment to attend to this matter. Whispering by nuns, the positive nods by the pastor, and a few hand gestures and the huddle once again broke. They were ready to run their play. I was in blitz mode.

The pastor said that I was disrupting religion class and that Jesus wouldn't like what I was doing. I was also informed that this was going on my permanent record and that this incident would be with me for the rest of my life.

The next moment was way out of character for the nuns. No yelling, no threat of expulsion, no talk of detention. Just the permanent record thing. I could live with that. Hell, I didn't know what my permanent record was anyhow so no big deal.

Then, another twist. Instead of being escorted back to the classroom, I came face to face with my mother in the school hall. She did not look pleased to see me. Without saying a word my mother communicated with the nuns with some sort of secret hand signals and I was in the car and on my way home for the day. Being that it was only second period, I felt pretty lucky thinking I would have the rest of the day to play. Boy was I ever wrong with that impression.

Several days later, I asked my big brother Jack what my permanent record was and why was it so important. He began to explain that... Well, that's another story.

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Dare To Dream

Bullseye

For my entire 8 years of Catholic grade school I was hounded by Catholic nuns. When I came across this photo, I so wanted to do this many times as a student. Alas, I never had the chance or so help me, I would have loaded up.Please notice the accuracy of the snowballs being thrown. Its from all the practice the nuns have of hurling erasers at unsuspecting students sitting at their desks.....
These nuns had to be stopped and the Grassy Knoll Institute had just the plan to do it.

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Pre-Cana Marriage Classes

Pre-Cana Marriage Preparation Conference

The Pre-Cana Marriage Preparation Conference is for engaged couples planning to be married in the Catholic Church and referred by the priest/deacon or marriage coordinator. A full day is created which will enable you to have an opportunity to discuss honestly with each other your strengths and weaknesses in family living, communication, finances, Christian sexuality, the Sacrament of Matrimony and your role in the Church and society.

Doesn't sound so bad, until you actually go to the conference. My wife Patty and I went 6 months before we were to be married. We went begrudgingly to satisfy our Parish priest. Our Pre-Cana was not a conference but a series of classes.

Part One, The Meet And Greet.

Patty and I arrived at the church rectory and waited patiently for Father Vince to enter. Soon father Vince entered and we all sat around his desk engaging in some small talk. Father seemed to want to get right down to business. He began by explaining that he would be asking questions that would give him some insight into our lives and the ability to evaluate the strength of our love and dedication to one another.

Part Two. The Envelope.

The very first question asked was how much money I made each month. I looked over at Patty and replied, "I make enough". This did not satisfy our priest. Again, he probed, saying it was important to talk about finances to prevent unforseen money problems. I politely replied that we had discussed finances and both of us were in agreement that we could live on our salaries comfortably. We understood about utility bills and that I have been living away from my parents for a while and knew about rent payments, cable TV, and food bills.

Once again, father Vince said that he needed to know how much money I made so that he could evaluate our finances for himself. At this point, I became a little agitated, knowing where his questioning was leading. He wanted to know how much I made so he could calculate his cut for the Sunday envelope offering. I told father Vince that it was none of his business and to move on with the interrogation, err...questions.

Part Three. The Test.

After surviving the financial part, the next part had to be a breeze. What could be worse? I would soon find out. Father Vince said we were now going to take a compatibility test. Patty would take her test in the waiting room down the hall and I would stay with father Vince in his office and take mine there. I was thinking 10-20 questions. WRONG! This test had 300 questions. Everything from finances, furniture taste, to what we would name our children.

Several hours later, I had finished and wouldn't you know, Patty had to and walked in as I was bringing my test booklet to fathers desk. We were told to talk amongst ourselves while he graded our tests. Now I was pretty confident for I was a pretty good test taker and Patty said she knew all the answers right away. A little while later and father Vince began to speak. His tone was very stearn and direct. He said that in all his years conducting these classes, he had never seen test results such as ours. Out of all 300 questions, we didn't miss a single one. We had answered exactly the same. I was feeling pretty good at this time thinking that our test scores spoke volumes of our compatibility and that we were perfect for each other. Then the magic was broken. Father Vince asked if I had cheated. Taken about, I said how could I have with him sitting in the same room as me. He simply couldn't accept that we had tested perfect.

Part Four. The Second Session.

As our first class concluded, father Vince shocked me when he said that there would be four more sessions to prepare us for marriage and that we were to meet back at the rectory next week. The discussion would be on living together as a married couple and sharing responsibilities.

I could see that the battle lines had been drawn. I had to go on the offensive. No way could I survive another class. I quickly lept in and pointed out that as a priest, father Vince really had no perception on married life since he lived as a bachelor his entire life. I saw the opening and continued. I added that since my parents were married for many years and had seven children that I should be asking them for marriage advice instead of from a bachelor who has no bills and lives in a house paid for by the church. Father Vince sensed my advantage and slowly backed off. This would be the last class we would attend.

Part Five. The Departure And The Irony.

Two weeks before we were to be married, father Vince had a lapse in faith and decided to leave the church. He then quickly got married and moved out of the area. I was sort of hoping that he would have to go through the same Pre-Cana classes that Patty and I had to endure. I think I would have put a little extra in the Sunday plate if I could have seen that!

PS. We are going strong on 22 plus years of wedded bliss. I guess the test scores were correct.

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Nostradamus And Pope John Paul First

Grassy Knoll Institute delves into the Quatrains of Nostradamus. This time, we look at religious connections with a recent pope.

Pope John Paul I was elected in August of 1978 and help the Papacy for a mere 33 days. He followed 3 other popes who ruled for a short periods of time as well. 5 Popes in 20 years.
Nostradamus was very interested in the time of man, especially the 3rd Millennium, as three is the number of man. He wrote in his Quatrains back in the 1500's about a plot to kill the pope concocted by the Vatican council. I will post his Quatrains at the end but first the actual facts of the death of Pope John Paul I.

Pope John Paul I ruled for 33 days. In his very short reign, he ordered an investigation of the Freemasons, a powerful religious group, and the Mafia concerning a rumored murder committed involving several clergy in the church.

On the night of his death, Pope John Paul I gave a list to Cardinal Villot of people he wanted removed from power.

The pope died mysteriously the next day. The list given to Cardinal Villot singling out several was never seen again.

No post mortem was done on the pope. He was deemed dead from natural causes. The Pope was cremated, which went against the Catholic religion, especially for the Pope.

Pope John Paul II was elected on his third try, (There’s that number three again) and reigned until his death earlier this year. The new Pope, Joe Radzinger, Pope Benedict the XVI was quickly elected and is the first Pope elected in the new Millennium.

There are two Quatrains that validate my Grassy Knoll theory. The first one is from:

Century IV Quatrain XI

He who will have government of the great cape will be led to execute them in some cases.
The twelve red ones will come to spoil the cover, under murder, murder will be perpetrated.

Nostradamus always referred to the Popes as the great cape. The twelve red ones are of course the 12 Cardinals, college of Cardinals who elect the pope.

Did the new pope uncover evidence that several Cardinals were involved in some sort of cover up? Did he move quickly to remove these men from power but keep them from prosecution? Did the Cardinals fear for their prestige and new found knowledge of the new pope so much that he was murdered?

Here is the next Quatrain:

Century V Quatrain XCIII

After the seat has been held for seventeen years,
five will change within the same period of time.
Then one will be elected at the same time who will not be to agreeable to the Romans.

OK, lets look at the last several popes beginning with Pope John XXIII, 1958-63. Then Pope Paul VI, 1963-78. John Paul I, 1978. And John Paul II, 1978-2005. Did Nostradamus misinterpret Pope John Paul I as two popes? After all, Pope John Paul I was the first Pope in history to select two first names as Pope. So Nostradamus sees John, Paul, John Paul, John Paul. An easy mistake, especially being 400 years looking into the future.

Getting to the first pope elected in the 3rd Millennium, Pope Benedict XVI, who Nostradamus says will not be agreeable with the Romans. Benedict served before Pope as the guardian of the Catholic law. He believes in the Catholic religion to the letter. He is not open to change, or flexible on the interpretation of the Catholic faith. He will not be too agreeable with the ROMAN Catholics.

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Confetti Bandit Strikes Again

In the Grassy Knoll Institutes ongoing battle against Catholic nuns of the 1960’s, I came up with yet another ingenious plan to drive the nuns crazy. It was a simple stunt with no harm ever coming to any child, animal or property, but plenty of aggravation for the nuns. After all, fair is fair and the nuns needed a little dose to bring the score even.

My plan was simple, the execution quick, and the devastation monumental. The delivery method still posed a problem for I needed to be alone to deliver the package. I needed to think this out for I feared if any witnesses were present; the nuns would surely be able to squeeze that information from the spineless witness.

So I started mapping out the movements of the nuns each day and the daily lunch and recess period. I soon found a pattern I could use. When we finished our lunch, we then went out on the playground for 20 minutes. Child after child would file out one by one as they finished. For the first five minutes of lunch, when all of us were still eating, the nun in charge would get up, excuse herself, and then go and do nun things for 30 minutes while we ate.

I would get up when a few kids were left and instead of going outside, I would sneak down the hallway and into the bathroom. I would stay there for a couple of minutes and then back track back to my room. I would walk by casually and if no one was left in the room, I would re-enter the room and quickly go to my notebook and grab a few pieces of standard notebook paper making ever sure they were completely blank so as not to leave any incriminating evidence behind. I would then tear the paper into tiny little pieces and drop them into the overhead heater and air vents.

If perchance the motor was running pumping out air or heat during lunch, I would abort the mission and go outside. But, on that particular day, the vent motor was off, I shoved several sheets of confetti sized paper down in the four vents. The vents were screened so you couldn’t get your fingers stuck and also hid the paper from view.

Now, let me describe the vents for you. Each classroom had one wall that had our lockers on the bottom and very tall windows reaching the ceiling on top. There was a shelf alongside the entire wall about five feet tall. The windows were recessed so if anyone felt the urge to jump out, they would have to climb up the wall, and stand on the ledge, and then open the windows to climb out. This was also the area that housed the room heater and air circulator. You could not see down the vents as the screens obscured the view and it was pretty dark down there.

OK, back to the story. I quickly shoved the paper down the vents and then quickly exited the room and blended into the crowd with the rest of the kids on the playground. Then, all I had to do was wait. The recess bell rang and all the kids lined up in single file according to classroom and proceeded to file inside the school in an orderly fashion not saying a word. Wait. All I had to do was wait. And to my surprise, the wait would be mere minutes.

The nun in charge, feeling a chill, walked over to the heater and turned the switch on. My plan was implemented in a moment. The heater churned to life and in an instant tiny confetti paper shot out and up scaring the hell out of the nun. The nun actually gasped and jumped back as if the confetti was stinging her. The entire class roared with laughter for almost a minute until the nun got her wits about her and turned off the switch to the heater. My plan had worked perfectly and only later would I realize that there was an added bonus.

As all nun investigations go, this one would be long and drawn out making the Spanish inquisition seem like a short movie at the Caans film festival. The janitor was summoned to clean out the heater and examine any remaining evidence. Which, by the mess on the floor, was minimal at best. The nuns started out tough, claiming that after examining all the evidence, they knew the child responsible. The nuns were staring directly at me as they spoke in unison. Damn that nun radar. But I was safe. There were no witnesses, no evidence to link me, I was in the clear baby.

The nuns gave us one last chance to fess up before they called the parents for the one responsible. No one fussed up. No one dared. Silence from the kids and the nuns. After five more minutes of silence, and the bonus that no lessons were being taught in class and finally the nuns spoke again. A firm speech that God saw the child that did this terrible thing and it was the Catholic thing to do to confess their sin. No freakin way baby.

Another nun appeared in the room, now there were three of them, almost a gaggle, and they quickly huddled and then called alphabetically one by one each child out into the hallway to interrogate them. The door slammed as two nuns were now in the hall and one nun stayed to observe our mannerisms. I heard yelling, big time yelling and ranting about heart attacks, Jesus, mortal sin, and other intimidation tactics used on second graders of Catholic school.

My name was called sixth, and the nuns really tried to brow beat me. I simply took the tirades in stride knowing I had beaten the nuns this time. I was returned to my seat unscathed but a little hard of hearing. Each child had a turn with the dueling nuns but still no one confessed.

Frustrated, the nuns gave up but continued their inquisition for three days till finally they announced that even though they knew who the culprit was, they were not going to single him/her out. They were going to make the culprit have to live with the terrible mortal sin on their soul until they confessed it to the priest in confession on Friday.

So, that was their ploy, their way of extracting information. Let the priests do the dirty work and then sing like stool pigeons to the nuns of the crimes we confessed. No way was I going to fess this one up even knowing that I was endangering my mortal soul and if perchance I would die, I would go straight to hell. I would have to be careful playing outside until I could visit a neighboring church and go to confession there so as not to divulge my identity. I carried that sin on my soul for two weeks. Damn the nuns to hell.

The confetti bandit struck several more times that year and the nuns never did catch me on this one. After I graduated from grade school and in the safe harbor of high school, I sent the nuns a letter from the confetti bandit letting them know that I was still on the loose and that some day I would pass down my knowledge to my children and that the bandit would be reborn.

I knew the nuns would be ready...

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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL