Monday Morning Matt-e-Chism

I was flipping through our 300 channels of Cable TV wasteland last night when I came across a Catholic Mass that was being televised.

As a former Catholic, I watched it for a few minutes, and oh the thoughts that were resurrected in my mind.

Hosanna on High, Baby!!

Many "salmon cake eating on Fridays during Lent" memories came to mind. The tearfully boring Catechism classes…First Communion, and picking out my confirmation name, Xavier.

I knew nothing of St. Xavier, at that time, but I thought it would be cool to have the initial “X” in my name.

Hell, today, my initials sound like a cool satellite station…“Tonight at 8 Eastern, catch the Matt-Man, only on the MPXM Satellite Radio Network.” Ha…but I digress.

However, the one memory that truly struck a hymnal chord with me was my memory of being an altar boy, or as we called them in my day, a server.

I didn’t have time to find a picture from my tenure, but man, I was a show stopper. Or, I guess, a Mass stopper.

It was hard work getting up early on Sunday and going down to the church.

More than hard work, it was hard to sleep in church as an altar boy what with the bell ringing, the bible holding, and the candle lighting.

There were some good things to come out of it though.

Myself and the other young soldiers for Christ would sneak drinks of the Communion wine prior to Mass. From my first Sabbath as a server, I was forever hooked on Bagwine.

They used Mogen/David for Christ’s sake. Wine made by Jews!!?

Well, I guess it does make sense to turn Jewish-Made wine into Christ’s blood. After all, Mogen and David were descendents of the frickin’ bastards that killed the Holy Baby Jeebus.

I remember Father Hoying orating his uninspiring, yet brief homilies. He was a bit dull in the pulpit, but one heckuva nice guy.

I also remember that where I typically sat on the altar, I always had a perfect view of Erin Marie Murphy.

She was 13 or 14 years old and stacked. Her blarney stones were HUGE, and I wanted to kiss them.

She always wore a short plaid skirt that highlighted her green eyes and reddish pony-tailed hair.

I am so glad that we wore those cassock, robe-like, sacrificial smock looking things, because it would hide my raging, sinful, barely pubescent hard on.

Nobody could tell the wicked thoughts that ran through my mind whilst ogling her. Well, nobody except God and the Holy Baby Jeebus. Those two are frickin’ sven-jollies.

I always wanted to take Erin into the confessional box and admit my sins as I was transgressing against her in real time.

No such luck. The confessional was usually occupied by Father Coleman, Sister Mary Agnes, and/or my buddy, little Ricky Bolton, doing God only knows what.

But, hey, that’s life. It’s probably best, because two years later Erin Marie Murphy gave birth to triplets courtesy of a High School Biology teacher.

You’d think someone in his position would know how to prevent that.

Anyhoo…There you have a little slice of the young, altar boy Matt-Man.

If you are unfamiliar with the Catholic Mass, I have a special treat for you.

Here’s a video of Bagwine fave Phfrankie Bondo , singing Tom Lerher’s, Vatican Rag.

Damn, the boy is so good; it’s like he was lip-synching the entire thing. P-Man, You RAWK!!

Cheers!!

The Collar is on the Other Neck

I was thinking the other day…No, seriously, I was.

In fact, I was bowled over by the spontaneous, collective firing of my synapses. When I think, it’s a powerful thing.

Anyway, I thought…

Our entertainment world has Taxi Cab Confessions, True Wife Confessions, and even Postcard Confessions.

Why not turn the tables, and start a segment called, “True Priest Confessions”? Let’s put those guys in the hot seat of gut spillin’.

And so, I called, Our Lady of the Perpetual Bitch Slap Catholic Church, and asked a priest to allow me to interview him.

He acquiesced. In order to protect his identity, I will refer to him only as Father Xavier.

Matt-Man: Father X, you have been a priest for 37 years, have you ever seen or participated in sex with with underage boys?

Father X: My heaven’s noooo. That pedophile thing is a bit overblown, because it makes good TV ratings. None of that goes on around here.

Matt-Man: So there isn’t scandalous sex going on in this Church or this Archdiocese?

Father X: Oh there’s plenty, just not with underage boys. We get our ordained freak on with the nuns and some of the hotter parishioners.

Matt-Man: You have had sex with a nun?

Father X: Many (burp) times, although I’ve tried not to make it a habit. But man, that Sister Agnes Patrice, talk about your Sisters of Charity.

Matt-Man: I notice that your eyes are red, your speech is slurred, and your wine glass is constantly filled. Do you drink a lot?

Father X: This is the blood of Christ for Godssakes, who wouldn’t want to stay drunk on it. I eat a lot of communion wafers too.

Matt-X: You eat a lot…of hosts? Communion wafers?

Father X: Hell yes. I make a mean BLTBC.

Matt-Man: What’s that?

Father X: Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato on the Body of Christ. You get salvation and a full stomach all at once. Those Jew bastards have no idea what they’re missin’.

Matt-Man: Very interesting. Are there any other “scandalous” happenings my readers may be shocked to learn?

Father X: Well, much like in the world of sports, we have (hiccup) had a problem with steroids within the clergy.

Matt-Man: Really? How did you find out about this?

Father X: Well…(burp) excuse me. It seems some weeks ago, Father Callahan’s sermons really started to improve.

Matt-Man: So?

Father X: Well, his homilies had always sucked. People were falling asleep left and right, and then BAM, he began to knock them dead, and the money was pouring in.

Matt-Man: So this proved…

Father X: That was just part of it (belch) But when he got 400 people through the communion line in under two minutes and could do the Stations of the Cross in five minutes flat. We knew.

Matt-Man: Was he punished?

Father X: Hell No. Pilarczyk, the Archbishop, covered it up like he does with everything.

Matt-Man: Anything else before we go?

Father X: Yeah…Fuck Notre Dame, those (hiccup) bastards rejected my application in 1967. The Four Horsemen were gay!! Pass me the Blood of Christ, would ya? God is Dead!!!

Was that interesting or what, folks? If we do another installment of True Priest Confessions, I hope you’ll join me.

Enjoy your Monday, and Cheers!!