I am very tired today... however, a quick glance at the blogosphere revealed a very amusing parody over at the Curt Jester's place..."I am the very model of a RomanCatholicWomanpriest™
I have no valid sacramental ordination in the least
I celebrate Diversity supremely superficially
Conjoining L-G-B-T couples controversially
"I’m very well acquainted, too, with Eco-Cycle-Mania
I generate more laughter than O-BER-on and Titania
I feel a Call To Action is required by the Spirit, now
As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE Allow
"As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE Allow
As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE Allow
As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE allow-alLOW-ALLOW-ALLOW-ALlow-allow"
You can read the rest (and it really is worth it!) HERE.
Then, no doubt to ensure my rapid demise through not being able to draw breath (I'm laughing too much), I saw this "Diet Prayer" over at Karen's place...
"Lord, My soul is ripped with riotincited by my wicked diet.
'We Are What We Eat,' said a wise old man!
and, Lord, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.
"I want to rise on Judgment Day, that's plain!
but at my present weight, I'll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall
into the clutches of cholesterol."
The fun continues HERE.
4 comments:
I was a big G&S fan for years....that's darn funny.
Thanks for sharing.
Along the same lines. Here's one I made earlier ...
Summorum Pontificum
or
The Bishop of Portsmouth’s Nightmare
With apologies to W S Gilbert
When you’re studying hard,making notes by the yard, on the process of running the diocese
I conceive you may use any language you choose to describe your episcopal crisis
You’re merging your parishes and feel embarrassed to face what is glaringly obvious
That you can’t do without priests and basic esteem for the worth of the clerical office
So you try and believe that the work of the priest can be in the same way undertaken
By women and men, who might just as well then, not proceed through to their ordination
But the Pope disagrees, and that what is more, he is inclined to the Old Mass in Latin
You feel close to despair and that the time is now near for liberals to throw their hats in
You seek some relief in the form of a sleep, and its not long before you are dreaming
Of Justice and Peace on a lay-led retreat with Hans Küng and Romano Guardini
Then you find in your dream that you suddenly seem to be stuck on a ferry from Dover
You’ve a horrible fear that the end is now near, and that improvised liturgy’s over
And you turn up in France in the midst of this trance with the prospect of fine Gallic weather
And Bugnini is there, but he’s tearing his hair, and he now looks like Marcel Lefebvre
You seek consolation in ICEL translations of prayers in the Missale Romanum
But you find they’re not there and to your great despair you discover Summorum Pontificum
By now you’re quite dazed, then you’re simply amazed when you look up and see in the distance
That, with three mighty cheers, Richard Dawkins appears, and attempts to dispute your existence
You can’t stand any more and you fall to the floor in the hope of attaining nirvana
But instead things dissolve, and a stage now revolves, and you find yourself acting a drama
The drama includes scenes at Vatican II which take place on the set of Blue Peter
Vicky Cosstick is there as is Ratzinger, Blair, Martin Edwards, Bob Hope and Evita
And Valerie Singleton gets them to think that the Missal she’s made is fantastic,
Because its in English, with songs by Paul Inwood and covered in sticky-backed plastic.
Martin Edwards demurs, and Evita concurs, and suggests that the Missal’s inferior,
To a foxtrot that he danced at Oscott in front of a Premonstratensian superior.
At the mention of dance, Vicky Cosstick advances the theory that modern is better,
And proceeds to display a new pasa doblé with a chimpanzee in a biretta
You awake with a start, and you hope for your part, that the nightmare is finally over
But to your great dismay, it’s the start of the day and you really are sailing from Dover!
You realise at last that the modernist mask, has been torn from your face, and you know that your place in the Church of Pope Benedict isn’t so firmly fixed and that the future lies with those who realise that the transcendent should be pre-eminent, in Catholic Theology, and in the liturgy, and that the faith is no longer negotiable, not like you read in The Tablet. But the darkness has passed, and it’s daylight at last, and the night has been long – ditto, ditto my song – and thank goodness they’re both of them over!
Along the same lines. Here's one I made earlier ...
Summorum Pontificum
or
The Bishop of Portsmouth’s Nightmare
With apologies to W S Gilbert
When you’re studying hard,making notes by the yard, on the process of running the diocese
I conceive you may use any language you choose to describe your episcopal crisis
You’re merging your parishes and feel embarrassed to face what is glaringly obvious
That you can’t do without priests and basic esteem for the worth of the clerical office
So you try and believe that the work of the priest can be in the same way undertaken
By women and men, who might just as well then, not proceed through to their ordination
But the Pope disagrees, and that what is more, he is inclined to the Old Mass in Latin
You feel close to despair and that the time is now near for liberals to throw their hats in
You seek some relief in the form of a sleep, and its not long before you are dreaming
Of Justice and Peace on a lay-led retreat with Hans Küng and Romano Guardini
Then you find in your dream that you suddenly seem to be stuck on a ferry from Dover
You’ve a horrible fear that the end is now near, and that improvised liturgy’s over
And you turn up in France in the midst of this trance with the prospect of fine Gallic weather
And Bugnini is there, but he’s tearing his hair, and he now looks like Marcel Lefebvre
You seek consolation in ICEL translations of prayers in the Missale Romanum
But you find they’re not there and to your great despair you discover Summorum Pontificum
By now you’re quite dazed, then you’re simply amazed when you look up and see in the distance
That, with three mighty cheers, Richard Dawkins appears, and attempts to dispute your existence
You can’t stand any more and you fall to the floor in the hope of attaining nirvana
But instead things dissolve, and a stage now revolves, and you find yourself acting a drama
The drama includes scenes at Vatican II which take place on the set of Blue Peter
Vicky Cosstick is there as is Ratzinger, Blair, Martin Edwards, Bob Hope and Evita
And Valerie Singleton gets them to think that the Missal she’s made is fantastic,
Because its in English, with songs by Paul Inwood and covered in sticky-backed plastic.
Martin Edwards demurs, and Evita concurs, and suggests that the Missal’s inferior,
To a foxtrot that he danced at Oscott in front of a Premonstratensian superior.
At the mention of dance, Vicky Cosstick advances the theory that modern is better,
And proceeds to display a new pasa doblé with a chimpanzee in a biretta
You awake with a start, and you hope for your part, that the nightmare is finally over
But to your great dismay, it’s the start of the day and you really are sailing from Dover!
You realise at last that the modernist mask, has been torn from your face, and you know that your place in the Church of Pope Benedict isn’t so firmly fixed and that the future lies with those who realise that the transcendent should be pre-eminent, in Catholic Theology, and in the liturgy, and that the faith is no longer negotiable, not like you read in The Tablet. But the darkness has passed, and it’s daylight at last, and the night has been long – ditto, ditto my song – and thank goodness they’re both of them over!
Along the same lines. Here's one I made earlier ...
Summorum Pontificum
or
The Bishop of Portsmouth’s Nightmare
With apologies to W S Gilbert
When you’re studying hard,making notes by the yard, on the process of running the diocese
I conceive you may use any language you choose to describe your episcopal crisis
You’re merging your parishes and feel embarrassed to face what is glaringly obvious
That you can’t do without priests and basic esteem for the worth of the clerical office
So you try and believe that the work of the priest can be in the same way undertaken
By women and men, who might just as well then, not proceed through to their ordination
But the Pope disagrees, and that what is more, he is inclined to the Old Mass in Latin
You feel close to despair and that the time is now near for liberals to throw their hats in
You seek some relief in the form of a sleep, and its not long before you are dreaming
Of Justice and Peace on a lay-led retreat with Hans Küng and Romano Guardini
Then you find in your dream that you suddenly seem to be stuck on a ferry from Dover
You’ve a horrible fear that the end is now near, and that improvised liturgy’s over
And you turn up in France in the midst of this trance with the prospect of fine Gallic weather
And Bugnini is there, but he’s tearing his hair, and he now looks like Marcel Lefebvre
You seek consolation in ICEL translations of prayers in the Missale Romanum
But you find they’re not there and to your great despair you discover Summorum Pontificum
By now you’re quite dazed, then you’re simply amazed when you look up and see in the distance
That, with three mighty cheers, Richard Dawkins appears, and attempts to dispute your existence
You can’t stand any more and you fall to the floor in the hope of attaining nirvana
But instead things dissolve, and a stage now revolves, and you find yourself acting a drama
The drama includes scenes at Vatican II which take place on the set of Blue Peter
Vicky Cosstick is there as is Ratzinger, Blair, Martin Edwards, Bob Hope and Evita
And Valerie Singleton gets them to think that the Missal she’s made is fantastic,
Because its in English, with songs by Paul Inwood and covered in sticky-backed plastic.
Martin Edwards demurs, and Evita concurs, and suggests that the Missal’s inferior,
To a foxtrot that he danced at Oscott in front of a Premonstratensian superior.
At the mention of dance, Vicky Cosstick advances the theory that modern is better,
And proceeds to display a new pasa doblé with a chimpanzee in a biretta
You awake with a start, and you hope for your part, that the nightmare is finally over
But to your great dismay, it’s the start of the day and you really are sailing from Dover!
You realise at last that the modernist mask, has been torn from your face, and you know that your place in the Church of Pope Benedict isn’t so firmly fixed and that the future lies with those who realise that the transcendent should be pre-eminent, in Catholic Theology, and in the liturgy, and that the faith is no longer negotiable, not like you read in The Tablet. But the darkness has passed, and it’s daylight at last, and the night has been long – ditto, ditto my song – and thank goodness they’re both of them over!
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