Some years ago I found a mouse had gnawed holes in some of our paper sacks. The hole bore a striking resemblance to an image of a mouse. "Look," I said, showing it to my nephew Brandon, "I think the mice are trying to communicate with us."
"What is it supposed to be?" asked Brandon. "A rabbit's head?"
"No, turn it over, the other way. See, doesn't that look like a mouse?"
"It's crude, and the proportions are wrong."
"Yeah, okay, but the impressive thing is that it made the attempt at all. You know, when a donkey flies, you don't criticize it for not staying up that long, like the guy said."
"My point is," said Brandon, "it's a mouse. What's it got to say? 'Hey, I'm a mouse--look at me! I'm living in your house. I'm eating your stuff.' It's trivia. Not important."
Well, maybe. At any rate, my mouse-gnawed self-portrait beats the hell out of that blobby white thing Custos Fidei is trying to pass off as an angel. You have to see this to believe it. I wonder how he can tell that it's not a ghost? a UFO? Bigfoot? Or maybe an attempt by the mice at St. Peter's Basilica to communicate--at least it looks rather like a legless mouse with oversize ears to me.
The Courage of Our COVID Convictions - Earlier this week, I described the absurd simultaneous acceptance of monoclonal antibody therapy and distrust of the COVID-19 vaccines and the sharp partis...
4 hours ago