Friday, March 09, 2007

Lenten Delicacy

Just remember, it's meat. Not on Fridays.


Phelony Jones said...

does it come beer battered?

Al said...

Are you sure that isn't a "CAT"fish & thus OK to eat on Friday? :)

However, you better hope our Holy Father, Papa Benedetto, doesn't see this, being as he is a cat lover like me he may be forced to excommunicate you for cruelty to cats.

Dad29 said...

Al, for practical purposes, I was ex-comm'd by the previous Archbishop and his cabal of, ah, ....friends.

No big.

Besides, we have two of those critters in the house.

St. Jimbob of the Apokalypse said...

What did you do to get excommunicated, Dad, kneel to receive the Eucharist?

Dad29 said...

Called a spade a spade, Jimbob.

In fact, SEVERAL of them. All over arcane and meaningless stuff, like the Roman Liturgy.

Tito said...


Al said...

So now that the Milwaukee Archdiocese has been exorcised of the evil that was Rembert is there any hope that you can be de-ex-comm'd?

When I see what OSBs (I prefer an anagram of this) like him & Chittister are up to, I can't help but wonder if St. Benedict has to be held back by God to keep from coming back & applying a hardcover copy of his rule upside their heads.

Grim said...

"Are you sure that isn't a "CAT"fish & thus OK to eat on Friday?"

The Clancy brothers tell the story of a young Protestant Irishman who fell in love with a Catholic girl and converted. After a while, he was having trouble, so he went to his priest for help.

"I can't get it, father," he told the priest. "All my life, I've been a Protestant. I know I'm a Catholic now, but I just can't get it through my head."

The priest nodded kindly. "What you must do, my son," he said, "is set aside some time each day to talk to yourself. During that time, just repeat over and over, 'I'm a Catholic, I'm not a Protestant. I'm a Catholic, I'm not a Protestant.' Sooner or later, you'll get it through your thick skull that you're a Catholic, you're not a Protestant."

A few weeks later, the priest stopped in to visit the new family. He came in and as soon as he did he caught a smell coming from the stove that shouldn't be in a good Catholic house on a Friday. "Where's Sam, Mary?" he asked the wife.

"In the kitchen, father," she said, and so he rushed in.

There was Sam, with a big thick steak on the pan, and scooping gravy over it. He was saying, "You're a trout, you're not a steak; you're a trout, you're not a steak; you're a trout, you're not a steak."