Sunday Suppositories

The Sunday newspaper as replacement for mass- or church-going is hardly a new idea. But like a lot of afflictions, you see the symptoms in other people before you see them in yourself. So when PJPII died last week I started to think: when was the last time I went to mass regularly? I figured it was some time after I stopped believing in a god, but round about the time I started reading the Irish edition of the Sunday Times, some 10 or 11 years ago.

Perhaps the correct thing to do now, for a weblog entry, is to ask myself: are the two things linked? But rather than ruminate over the possibility that they may be linked, though let’s just assume for convenience’s sake that they are. This is a weblog for fuck’s sakes not an inaugural lecture. And besides, to do so pays a nice tribute to the Sunday Times’ style of journalism.

Why are they linked then? Well, only a self-flagellating mad albino monk lifted straight out of the Da Vinci Code could endure two doses of sanctimonious preaching about morality, public life, the country we live in and HOW BAD WE ALL ARE (ach, but sure we’re all great too, at the same time) in the same day. So I must have given in to the printed option, as it got brought back from mass by others in the house.

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