Saints Errant Update

News from Fellow Saints around the world ... and elsewhere.

St. Malmo Declares Lack of Responsibility

Our very own Ralph Waldo Phyzick, aka St. Malmo The Slender, wishes it be known in the widest possible circles that He is no longer responsible for any debts incurred by his estranged (and soon to be ex-) wife Heidi. Those who know St. Malmo can believe this, since He is only marginally responsible for debts of His own ... in fact, the Asshole still owes St. Pooch $7.95 (plus tax & shipping) to replace the Holy Ceremonial Communion Receptical He dropped and broke during the last St. Bubba's Memorial Repast & Wet T-Shirt Contest, not to mention the volume of amoretto that was in the bong at the time!

Heidi, whom St. Malmo still refers to by the same pet name he used during their more harmonious times (That Big-tittied, Round-heeled, Bitch Who Ruined My Life), is currently making good money as a bikini model and the starter girl at tractor pulls. She is, according to St. Malmo, also up to her old Tricks (and a few new ones she's met since they separated). Those who would like to contribute to St. Malmo's Defense Fund may do so by dropping a donation (preferably of $7.95, but we'll take anything!) in the mail to F.H.P., P.O. Box 9106, Virginia Beach, VA 23450.

Those wishing to check-out Heidi may do so by phoning the number you'll find, rubber-stamped in indelible ink, on virtually any restroom stall in the continental U.S. and several provinces in Canada.

Change of Policy

As some of you duly-initiated Saints know, it has for some time been our policy to alter the names in these accounts to '... protect the Innocent.' This will no longer be the case. As St. Dooley (Patron Saint of People Who Rip Those Annoying Little Tags Off Pillows & Mattresses, In Defiance of Federal Statutes) so graciously pointed out recently, after several rounds of Rolling Rock Communion, the Innocent rarely need protecting! It's the guilty we need be concerned about, taking care of Our Own. Besides, the Innocent are notoriously dull and wishy-washy (D&W2, in your Fatal Sins Index) so screw 'em!

This suggestion met with immediate approval among All Present and an Edict was quickly scrawled upon a bar napkin (Now available as a Holy Relic for your Temple or Synagogue, just $7.95!) decreeing that, more or less, in the future when an Innocent screws up, we'll just tell it like it is and let the chips fall where they may. It was about this time that the chips fell in the floor, along with a bowl of salsa and a whole stack of empties St. Bartholomew of Bayonne had fashioned into a replica of either the Sears Tower or the Leaning Tower of Pisa, depending on how you looked at it.
Sister. Phyllis (Nun of The Above), then noted that, should an Innocent actually screw-up, they'd no longer BE innocent and therefore would be worthy of our protection after all. This is true, of course, but we'd already gone to the trouble of writing out the Edict so the damned thing stands on its own merits ... unlike the peanut-bladdered St. Goofy, who had to be borne out upon the unsteady shoulders of a Trinity of his Fellow Saints after first yakking up a double order of Buffalo Wings.

Letter To the Home Office

St. Tommy of Music City writes;
'Dear St. Pooch,
I've just spent an evening watching the World Championship Figure-skating Competition. What gives? I mean, it seems like some can just goof up like crazy and still come out on top, while others can perform perfectly and get bupkis for their efforts. Are the judges, like, mental or something?

Dear St. Tommy,
What gives is, you need to get a, like, LIFE! Surely there was something else on the tube worth watching, the Weather Channel, old re-runs of Webster (which does not, by the way, have anything whatsoever to do with the Internet, despite the misleading name) or maybe Joan Rivers pimping her bumblebee jewelry on QVC! But, since you asked and I am, after all, omniscient, I'll tell you all about it.

Most men, when encountering anything of a cultural nature concerning young women in abbreviated outfits, by default will cheer for the one with the best-developed breasts. In figure-skating this is difficult due to the age of the contestants and their normal lack of physical development (it is an automatic deduction of 0.2 point for development beyond an AA cup, and an additional 0.3 point if actual cleavage is displayed). Still, this represents a quantum improvement over Gymnastics where a contestant can actually be disqualified if proven to be old enough to have more than two of her permanent teeth. What actually determines the winner of these events is a complex formula. Let's look at it, shall we? Why the hell not!

The primary attributes judges look for in a figure-skating competition are; Music selected, Costume, Pronouncability/Musical Quality of Contestant's Name, Role Assumed for Program, Current Worthy Cause Program is Dedicated To, Tragic Personal History, Dues Paid in Previous Competitions, Past-or-Pending Felony Convictions, and the Ability to Appear Atheletic and Yet Feminine (NOTE: The last of these attributes only applies to the Men's Competition).

The Music Selection is all-important. It should be something involving tragic lovers or the death of innocent animals such as swans, doves, unicorns, etc ... or the theme from a current hit movie involving a stirring social issue. This is why you won't see anyone skating to Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer or PeeWee Herman's rendition of Give The Boy A Hand!.

The costume should reflect the theme of the contestant's program, when the theme is something like Alladin or The Lion King, but not necessarily the Worthy Cause, otherwise everyone would try to look like junkies and homosexuals (see also Men's Competition).

The musical quality of the contestant's name increases the number of times it is mentioned among the judges and by the commentators. This is why you end up with champions named Roxanna Byoule, Midori Ito, Christi Yamaguchi, and Katarina Witt, but never a Modine Gunch, Betty-Jane Suggs, or Linda Stephanowski.

In terms of Tragic Personal History, it helps if you're an orphan (Bayoule) or if half your family has croaked from AIDS (current men's champion). The ultimate will be realized, no doubt, in the 1998 Olympics, when someone will show up who is an orphan BECAUSE their entire family has died of AIDS. They won't even have to bring skates!

Weighing all these factors is maddening to the judges and often they must go through deliberations fifteen or twenty-times as grueling as the O.J. Simpson Jury. In fact, it is not uncommon for these deliberations to last so long, they hardly have the winner decided before it's time for the first skater to take to the ice!
Thanks for the question, St. Tommy, and I hope this gives you some insight into the complexities of figure-skating. To make matters worse, I understand that after the turn of the century the judges will actually have to include the contestants' performances into the mix!
NEXT TIME: Synchronized Swimming & Small-Bore Rifle Marksmanship; Isn't It Time To Combine The Two?

Saints Errant Cited For Misbehavior

I can't begin to tell you how it grieves me to have to report the following incident. It seems some of our Brethren (and even a couple of our Sisteren!) were escorted from a public Communion Center near a prominent university recently following a slightly over-ambitious Taking of the Malt, no doubt in celebration of St. Malmo's Successful Bond Hearing. The police report cited these revelers as '... loud, disruptive, partially-clad, and singing to the tops of their lungs.' So far, so good. Then the report went on to say, '... a slight overindulgence of alcohol was suspected.' To which I say, SLIGHT?

Have we taught you nothing? IF you're going to celebrate; do. IF you're going to overindulge; do it with class! For it is written (The Book of Heads; Chapter 2, Verses 7-9) 'And you shall know them by their presence, for they shall be everywhere you go. You shall recognize them by the crusted drool at the corners of their lips, the chenille marks upon their cheeks of a morning, and the sunglasses clapped upon their very eyeballs at all hours of the night; for they are MY OWN and are as Myself. In short, they don't know who they are! And the Host of Saints shall grin, and wink, and make them to say witty things ... which they'll not remember later ... and cause them to forget where they parked. But in the end, it will not be the hardness of the life, by which they'll be measured, but the hardness of the liver.'

To which I can only add, Amen! Now, all is forgiven, so Go Forth and Sin Some More. --His Honorable Fat-Baby Mother-Sir, The Downright Reverent St. Pooch