Pot, Meet Kettle, Except The Kettle Never Boinked A Choirboy

We're coming to you today from the Department Of Advice You Didn't Ask For here in the marbled halls of IM Central. The DOAYDAF is a division of the Somebody Has To Tell Them Corporation, a wholly owned subsidy of Zip It, NA.

First, full disclosure. Frequent reader(s) of this blog know that the upshot of effort is disappointment...erm...we mean know that as former bad catholics who have strived mightily to cultivate a complete lack of  religious merit (in Latin and English we might add) we often opine on the state of holy mother church from our Stoli infused position up here in the cheap seats. Now, that is to say we have kept up of the goings on of the funny hat brigade as sort of interested bystanders, you know, like when you come across a car crash.

Which brings us to the topic of today's disquisition: Working for the (holy) man.

A highly-regarded literature instructor filed a federal lawsuit against the diocese after she was fired from her job at the St. Vincent de Paul School for undergoing the fertility treatment.

More full disclosure: We actually taught in a catholic school for four years at which time we were, um, not renewed (Employment tip: Don't call the principal an idiot unless you have union representation) so we know that, yeah, they are that picky. Most of the time however, there's a version of don't ask don't tell going on so we figure someone let Mrs. Herx's cat out of the bag so to speak and bestirred the good fathers from their waiting for Jesus catatonia.

So we'd like to directly address the reverend monsignor Kuzmich and his buddy bishop Rhoades and offer a bit of advice (with all due respect of course): Hey fellas, we submit this in a way you will find familiar: sedent irrumabo descendit et clausit irrumabo usque or, as the interwebs like to say, STFD and STFU.

See, here's the deal guys, when you run a club for child molesters you don't get to tell other people how to live their lives. And then when you get caught running a club for child molesters and you're all like, "Hey, no biggie. Nothing to see here, move along, remember to tithe," not only do you not get to tell people how to live their lives, you don't even get to make suggestions. Even if you're asked you have to say, "Sorry. I'm the kind of guy who sells burial plots next to the pope to mafiosi, so I'm not really qualified to comment on issues of morality."

We hope this clears your confusion so now you can get back to bullying the nuns, which as survivors of Sister Arnulfa's sixth grade catechism class with most of our knuckles intact we have to tell you is not a wise move.