Only in America; dope-dealing cross-dressing priest ready for plea-bargain

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Father Wallin ministers to the flock on the wrong side of the tracks over there in Connecticut.

That's gotta be a tough gig. We mostly know Connecticut as the home base of choice for successful hedgies. Once you're flush and have a few success stories under your belt, nothing says "you're a big boy now" louder than an estate in Connecticut.

But then there's that other Connecticut, the one where entire neighborhoods live on less than the annual cigar tab for a self-respecting got-it-made wheeler-dealer.

You know what I'm talking about; where the black folks live.

And while I'm at it; why aren't there any black hedge fund managers?

Anyway, Father Wallin brought the gospel of Jesus Christ to the hopeless and homeless and down and out in Connecticut, not to the other guys. Seems the pressure got to him.

Father Wallin was in the habit... oh jeez... I didn't even see that one coming... oh my God?!...

Well, the body of evidence claims he was a cross-dresser, but WTF, when you look at the pictures from that Conclave of Cardinals just a couple weeks ago, they're all about that... which was why I thought Rodman was a shoe-in for the Golden Scepter...

But I digress. Don't know if Father Wallin donned the habit, but apparently he was in the habit of doffing the friarly robes for something a little more flattering. A mini-skirt maybe. Yoga pants... who knows?

Not only that, but due to the Church of Rome having to settle one multi-billion dollar class-action after another for the last twenty years, your local parish priest is actually paying the bills out of the proceeds from the bingo and the bake sale these days.

Bingo and bake sales only go so far, and for Father Wallin they obviously didn't go far enough.

Father Wallin took some hard decisions. Out with baking cupcakes. In with cooking meth.

The rest of the story is, if not history, at least really cheesy headlines.

And if you're among the multitude rushing to judge Father Wallin, let me leave you with a quote from the Good Book.

"Judge not, lest ye be judged."

Time for a Third World Pope

I don't spend much time following the Pope election drama.

But the Farm Manager does.

I think she's secretly hoping for an openly gay Pope.

Or at least a non-Christian one.

She's a bit ahead of her time on both counts.

But I do believe that if the Church has the slightest sense of where the pulse of her followers is, those Cardinals in the Sistine Chapel are going to elect a guy either out of Africa or out of South America.

My money is on Africa.

That's a growth market for the Catholic Church. America and Europe are shrinking markets. They have to vote with an eye to the future.

For one thing, rampant sexual abuse of altar boys is just background noise in Africa, whereas in the West this issue has become the anthem of Catholicism.

And economically, Africa is rising while the West is sinking.

I know you don't see that yet when you peruse the front pages of our most esteemed news outlets, but it's early days.

The Church of Rome has the most comprehensive intelligence network in the world bar none.

They know which way the winds are blowing.

And they didn't become the wealthiest institution in the history of humanity by being stupid.