As many of you may know, I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, an organisation that thinks sperm is sacred and their clergymen are not allowed to marry. We also have this sacrament called confession where we have to tell the priest our shit, like stealing our dad’s booze and looking at porno mags. This could also include behaviour like masturbation and things like having sex and enjoying yourself and or not going to church. Did I mention telling lies, smoking cigarettes and playing cards? Well they could be added in as well. In return the priest would give us a reward of lets say ten Hail Mary’s, six Glory Bee’s and a bunch of Our Fathers. It all depended on what you had ‘fessed up to. Perhaps it would depend on how the priest was feeling, I don’t know.
Many years ago I had been caught dancing with myself and my Mum in her religious fervour sent me off to see the priest. He was a dirty looking scare crow of a man and there was a bottle of Glenfiddich clearly visible on his counter top. I guess somebody thought it would loosen my tongue and provide a good confession. It certainly did, I like Whisky and I span him a whole bunch of lies instead, the joke was I did not care for religion by this time and sneezed at the idea and concept of confession. However I was living at home and my youngish mind, thought it a good idea to comply. Well to cut a story short I span him a load of stuff that would make a Madame blush, I swear the old pervert had a lip trembler going, he stank of booze and his blood shot eyes were horrid, as were his shaking hands. I think Half of that bottle disappeared in the couple of hours I was there, it was near Christmas and was piss cold outside. I have forgotten the penance he gave me, though I do remember not doing any of it.
If I was not sceptical of priests and religion before that point, I was afterwards and still am. More on that later on. I have recently been inspired to dig out some old artwork and share it again, I don’t think I have mentioned getting rid of a load of work a few weeks ago.
I am quite pleased with myself this evening, I have managed to leave the alcohol alone, despite their being a bottle of cider in the fridge. My cart Ninjas had the Scabies/Mange and is recovering well. He has been depressed and does not like being bathed and covered in ointment. Mr. Fox on the other hand, has been noticeable by his absence. I hope he comes home very soon. I love him.