I'd much rather piss off the Pope than piss off Jesus.

The Prodigal Blogger returns.

And this feels like a multi post day. Yes, it certainly does.

I've been neglectful of you, blogosphere. I've been far too tied up in my own wheelings and dealings to worry about you, and your millions of bloggers. I mean, what will the internet do without me there to comment on the inanities and absurdities of everyday life? I fear trouble afoot.

So I must put a post on my site quickly before the Thought Police come and lay the hammer down on me.

Hmm, Thought Police. That's good. Mental Note: Write a book with the bad guy being the Thought Police. Perhaps set it in the future. Working title-- In the future, everyone can hear you think-- or something like that.

Genius.

Moving on.

So, it was time for my walk today, and I received a sign from God. No fooling. ME! The dingleberry, Floyd, and I were walking in front of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Church this morning. As we approached the walkway he looked like he was preparing to do what he usually does: which is this. So he was all prepared, he had the squat going and he was ready to drop. And I, Adam, your favorite faithless heathen, had a momentary crisis of conscience. I know. Shocking. But do I let him take a shit right on the from lawn, while there is obviously a service going on inside the church? I think the clincher was, I looked over and I was staring right in the face of Jesus on the cross. I couldn't allow it. I tugged Floyd's leash and led him away from the church.

He stopped about 30 feet later and did what he had to do. You can't stop nature once you start it. All I wanted to do was delay it a few minutes, but to no avail. He was still shitting right in front of the Rectory, but for some reason, that didn't seem to bother me as much.