The Local Paper

There’s a prominent international company whose employees have been engaged in criminal activity for many years. Management knows it, and the only action that they’ve taken has been to try to cover it up. Every once in a while there’s evidence brought forth of the extent of the criminal activity, but invariably, the perpetrator has gotten away and management just shrugs. The CEO knows, too. But he’s silent and because he resides in a foreign land, he seems to be immune from questioning about his knowledge or involvement when he was a manager.

Is it Siemens? Bear Stearns? Lehman? ADM? No. It is, of course, the Catholic Church.

I was sitting in church today reflecting on the horror or the latest story. The abuse of deaf boys in Milwaukee at the hands of a priest who, once he was found out, requested and received permission to be transferred and subsequently buried in his sacramental garments with a clean public record, despite the fact that his management chain knew of his actions—and didn’t turn him into authorities. The actions of the priest are unconscionable and the actions of his superiors in not dealing with this as a criminal manner are equally abhorrent and criminal.

This has looked like a criminal conspiracy to obstruct justice for quite a while. If this enterprise were a corporation, surely criminal prosecutions of managers would be contemplated. The public would be screaming for someone to go to jail. It must be stopped. I should think that authorities (in the U.S.) should have probable cause to subpoena the files of every archdiocese in which a priest was transferred out to see what the church knew and what it did or didn’t do about it. Why have they not already done so? Is this excessive deference to the role of the Church? To my non-legal eyes, it sure looks that way.

Now we hear that the current Pope knew of and enabled a transfer for priest(s?) involved in similar activities in Germany, who refuses to speak to the allegations. The pooh-poohing of the notion of wrong-doing only serves to increase the cynicism and doubt and decrease the faith.

It is a tragedy of epic proportions. For the faithful whose faith in these authority figures and this institution has been repeatedly betrayed. For the vast majority of the brotherhood of priests who are innocent of any wrongdoing and who have kept their vows, who are being stained with the shrapnel of these cases. And for society who needs no additional reasons to doubt the value of the message of God.

It is not uncommon for people of faith to question God’s mercy when faced with some horrible event. What kind of a God let’s this happen? What kind of a God gives a child an untreatable disease? What kind of a God let’s people ostensibly here to serve him and help his people gain faith abuse children? It’s heartbreaking to watch people who have been faithful to God their whole lives have such questions. The people that perpetrated these crimes are impostors. They are not men of God. The people that enabled them to commit these crimes are equally culpable.

The air needs to be cleared. This cover-up has to be stopped.

A couple years ago, we were invited to a party in which the ticket for entry was a limerick. It’s the lowest form of poetry, which is why it’s always appealed to me. I was trapped on the tarmac at LGA the afternoon of the party and just started working one out. It was in the middle of the Eliot Spitzer / Call girl scandal, so he was the easiest target. Those original three limericks are sadly lost to history. I remember a few of the lines. I rhymed Spitzer with “schvitz her”. Once I figured out that the woman involved had a handy nine syllable name, Ashley Alexandra Dupree, I was off to the races, too.

I wrote a few last year, too, which I think are already posted. If not, I’ll get them up, but I set the bar impossibly high with the Spitzer work.

Here are the two I wrote this year:

Tiger liked to play more than one hole
Moms and kids see him a “model” role
He won’t ride in carts
But he’ll sext with some tarts
His sex rehab won’t save his soul

Elin Woods is a cute mom of two
Now knows of his penchant to screw
Pix not safe for work
He’s proved quite a jerk
He’d do many an ugly girl, too.

The stories are true. The names have been eliminated to protect from the humor.

My favorite reality show really isn’t a show, it’s the local zoning board hearings broadcast on cable access.  Neighbor vs. neighbor.  Tears.  Accusations.  Lawyers. Architects explaining their “vision for the space”.  Politicians, some bright and thoughtful, others less so.  It’s got it all.  While the show has been much less interesting since the real estate bubble blew up like Able over Bikini Atoll, it’s still worth watching.

My other “slice of local life” of course is the police blotter in the weekly local paper.  The hardships and difficulties of the people in these pages are real and in some cases very serious.  Sometimes they involve kids with drugs, others adults being pulled over at odd hours.  What amuses me are the sagas associated with some of the other, less serious items.  Perhaps it’s in the way they’re written by the news staff, or maybe it’s the way they appear in the police reporting.  We’ll never know, but week after week, there’s always something that grabs my attention and makes me wonder (and laugh).

Someone broke into a home some time between 4:03 p.m. and 9:36 p.m. March 6 on the XXXX block of [Flower] Lane and stole a bag of jewelry. It contained a $5,000 diamond watch, a $2,600 engagement ring, a pair of $2,000 diamond earrings and other items the owner could not recall. Two women’s purses and $100 in cash also were reported stolen.

A “bag of jewelry”?  I’ve heard of jewelry boxes, safes, hallowed out books and other things in which jewelry is kept, but a bag?  That’s awesome. Was it just lying there on the kitchen table?  Was it labeled “Jewelry” like it always was in episodes of Batman? And what’s with the precision on the estimated time of the break-in?  4:03pm and not 4:02 or 4:06?  Isn’t it an estimated time anyway? Is this victim wearing a tracking bracelet on his ankle that lets authorities now his precise whereabouts at any time?  If the cops find a suspect, can he say “I was there at 3:58pm, but not 4:03”?  I’m also sure that the insurance company will be happy to pay the claim on the “other items the owner could not recall”, too.

A [local] woman reported her diamond ring, which she purchased in 2004, was a fake. She told police she paid $15,623 for the 2.65 carat diamond ring from [Joe’s Jewelry Shop] at ##### [Main] Ave. She recently had it reappraised and was told the diamond was a fake. She also said she’s had the ring cleaned by several different jewelry stores in the past, but did not believe anyone tampered with it.  The owner of the original jewelry store has since sold the business and retired.

He thanks you for your patronage and sends his regards from a country without an extradition treaty with the U.S.  Reporting this to the police creates at least two problems and doesn’t solve the original one:  The only people I know that get jewelry reappraised are the ones that are trying to sell it.  That’s out of the question now, although I’m sure there’s a pawn shop someplace nearby that might look at it–but they might think it’s stolen.  Worse (?), all her friends now know it’s a fake so wearing it becomes problematic.  “Oh is that the fake ring?  I would have never known if you hadn’t told the police.”  “Oh, poor ******.  Bless her heart.  Doesn’t she have a real diamond ring to replace that fake one?”  She can’t even “lose” the ring now and try to (fraudulently) claim on the insurance!  I hope she remembers to cancel the policy on the ring.

A resident on the XXXX block of [Michigan] Avenue reported that he found footprints leading to and from the front door and side windows on both the east and west side of the home.

“…to and from the front door”?  No one EVER walks up to the front door.  Would it have been better had the footprints only led TO the door?  Does the mailman have an alibi?

Great stuff.

(I’m not sure why I felt compelled to hide or disguise some of the information in the publicly available blotter.  It just felt like the right thing to do.)

Why does underwear come with ironing instructions? If Richard Pryor was right that cocaine is God’s way of telling you that you have too much money, then surely ironing your undershorts is God’s way of telling you that you have too much time.

When you’re walking down the street it’s uncommon for strangers to come up and want to talk to you, but it occasionally happens.  Could be Greenpeace, the ASPCA, a political candidate or a panhandler.

So today I’m walking down the street in a little bit of a crowd and there’s such a guy up ahead of me that’s looking to talk to people as they pass by.

Guy:  “Can I ask you a question?”

Passerby:  “You just did,” as he keeps walking.