Angeli et amici: Conscientia mea iterum atque iterum coram Deo explorata ad cognitionem certam perveni vires meas ingravescente aetate non iam aptas esse ad munus Petrinum aeque administrandum.

Recently a certain little altar boy was offered a job, a promotion of sorts especially in terms of wardrobe, but one promptly, emphatically and unreservedly turned it down. "If I accept then every time I open my mouth I wouldn't be positively automatically infallible!"

 

Verily it has been quite a spell since this twerpy typist resorted to the e-pistolary format beloved and revered by the esteemed readership and for this one must apoplectically apologize. Not that one has run out of fresh ideas (and one indubitably has a few of those!) but unfortunately various villainous vicissitudes have been allowed to unfortunately underwhelm a somewhat silly scribe. Since an exhausting endearing expostulation is accessibly available upon request from the amply addled archives of Arkham Asylum  I won't bore you with distracting details. In other words, to piously paraphrase another cartoon character, "This looks like a job for Screwtape!"

 

Salus animarum suprema lex est. Now if there is one thing that this ridiculous redactor despicably detests that is supreme sanctimoniousness. In the immanently inscrutable designs of Divine Providence one has had a tantalizingly tiny educational experience in the incomprehensible illness so one is not so warily wise in simply stating, along with an illustrious luminary such as Saint John Bosco, "I want no long-faced saints". This then, perhaps, is the divinely defining moral maxim of this entertaining e-postolate (and this by empirical extension this annoyingly alliterative acolyte) that we should not be above spraying soda out our nostrils while learning a practical lesson from the catechism, late night or otherwise.

 

So let's get bouncing back on the theological track to holy Heaven. And if you notice another dastardly dereliction of duty by this manic Manhattanite please feel free to slap him silly. Ouch! What? Not enough auxiliary adjectives?

Mr. Screwtape