
So, when your
LiveStrong rubber leash of choice welds to your skin because you forgot, hey, rubber melts over open flame (true story, saw this happen in a restaurant kitchen--cook was a fan of a certain Latin American soccer team and we needed to point out to him some elementary laws of physics when his wristband began melting to his flesh) stop by your local supermarket vending machines and get your holy on. That SpongeBob key chain may be goofy kitsch, but the beseeching paddy cake hands decal on your rear window? That can truly pimp your ride. Hey, I'm not anti-religion, per se. But crass commercialism and public displays? Not exactly Thomas Merton, know what I'm saying?
A billion years ago I used to have a holy medal I wore around my neck--St. Jude, the wanderer and patron saint of hopeless cases. My mom gave it to me because, well...obvious reasons. Patron saint of writers btw? St. Francis de Sales. Wonder if there's a holy medal for St. Blandina, patron saint of those falsely accused of cannibalism.
Speaking of saints, it's a bummer but
Saint Declan is going offline for awhile. Go get 'em , Dec.