More on CityLink

There have been more CityLink Center developments. Last night there was a meeting at the Lincoln Center in support of the project. Also yesterday, Cincinnati City Council voted 8-1 in a resolution against the center. The vote was meaningless, but I guess it helped them feel better . . . or something. These happenings have spawned more debate about a post I did about CityLink a few weeks ago. You can read it all here. Feel free to contribute your thoughts.

Lifting The Lid

Note: the following article might gross some of you out. If you're the faint of heart, you might want to skip this one. Just keep in mind I've been in the hospital for more than a week now with too much free time on my hands to think about life's greatest challenges. I believe this post affirms that. Today's hospital observation:

The toilets here could be just what women need to get men to lift the seat.

Honestly, I'm one of those men who lifts the seat. It's the right thing to do, a common courtesy. I just think how cruddy [pun intended] gas station bathrooms can be and that's enough to convince me. Men have the obvious advantage in using poorly maintained restrooms; no matter how bad they are at least we don't have to sit down. I feel bad that women have to sit, because there's always the great unknown of who was the last person to use this seat. So with my toilet use, the Golden Rule applies. I wouldn't want to sit down, therefore, I lift the seat.

Why don't some men lift the seat? Hard to tell, but I came up with two reasons.

Reason 1) Overconfidence in their ability to aim. Males are conditioned from an early age to work on accuracy. We spend years perfecting it. In adulthood, we're the John Wayne of commode-town: never missing a shot. Why bother lifting the seat when we're obviously going to avoid it? Unfortunately, most of us aren't nearly as precise as we believe we are. Sure there are still some marksmen among us, but many don't lift the seat because a brash attitude has gotten the best of them.

Reason 2) Sheer laziness. Because men have the ability to go standing up, bending down to lift up the seat is an extra step in the process. I think the line of thought of the male mind goes like this:

"I am male. I can do my business standing up. That's the way God intended it to be. If have to bend down to use the john, I might as well go ahead and sit down- and that's not going to happen. Too much work; I'll just rely on my aim."

Now back to these hospital cans. They aren't sufficient to solve the first reason that men don't lift the seat [leave that to Dr. Phil], but could prove quite valuable with the second reason. With the handles on the side, it requires little effort to lift. That's what men need to make us function better: simplicity. Remote controls. Velcro. Handles. It could be perfect.

I'm telling you, friends: handles on the side of toilets could change the world.

A TKO from Tokyo

Great Tiger. King Hippo. Von Kaiser. Men who have made an impact in history? I think not.

These were opponents in the game Mike Tyson's Punch-Out. Like most boys growing up in the 1980's I was addicted to a little thing called the Nintendo Entertainment System. Everyday after school I would escape into a virtual land where I could eventually become Heavyweight Champion of The World. Despite only weighing 113 pounds and never having hit someone with a boxing glove, I could go to war. Living vicariously through Little Mac, with Doc Louis in my corner, I made it through and won the championship belt. Glory indeed.

I really think this is why people are still fascinated by Iron Mike: cemented in the minds of many male Gen X'ers is the idea that Tyson was the man. We spent our childhoods trying to defeat him and we still view him as unbeatable. This image of Tyson [circa 1988, before he married the Head of The Class chick] dominates our minds, so that we still watch his fights in awe . . . or maybe we're just waiting for him to bite off another opponent's body part. I'm still not sure why we watch.

For those, like me, who have spent years wondering what this video game would look like in real life, we now have an answer. Click here to find out.

Holding Pattern

OK, the update from the hospital is SOS- no not an call for alarm, but Same Old Situation as we now play the waiting game. The extended stay is providing moments of boredom for both Kelly and I, but the baby could arrive like a thief in the night, so we have to be ready. I swear, though, that if my daughter ends up being a kleptomaniac, she most definitely will be grounded. Changing subjects . . .

Two days later, I still think the big news is the poor officiating in Super Bowl XL. Some of you might dismiss this all together as excessive whining, but I really didn't care who won the game [actually that might be a fib; I didn't care who won the game as long as it wasn't Pittsburgh]. The NFL has a big problem on their hands here, and they're not taking it seriously. I'm shocked that Paul Tagliabue, NFL Commissioner, hasn't come out and made a statement; the silence is deafening.

The integrity of their product is at stake here. On their biggest night, in a game that more people watch than any other televised event, their officials goofed. Now people who aren't even football fans, who tune in just for the commercials and the chance of eating those little cocktail hot-dogs, questioning the legitimacy of NFL officiating. And it doesn't help with the recent news that Bob Waggoner, the official who called the phantom pass-interference play against Seattle, IS A NATIVE OF PITTSBURGH! Are you kidding me? Allowing a guy who probably grew up with Terrible Towels out his yin-yang to referee a Super Bowl in which the Steelers were playing? Bad idea. Like Bob's going to want to come back home to the family reunion on Memorial Day and hear it from all his family how he did nothing to help the Yellow and Black win. He did what he had to do to keep his family intact.

Look, I'm not saying that Bob was rigging the game. I'm sure he tried to make the call he needed to make. But if I'm at the Final Four refereeing when UC has a chance for a national championship or behind the plate in the World Series with the Reds I'm sure I'd be impartial. But in my impartially, I'd lean towards the 'Nati.

And this isn't just unfair to Seattle. It's unfair to Pittsburgh. At a time when their fans should be able to enjoy the fruits of a Super Bowl victory they have to constantly defend how, despite playing a horrible game and benefiting from questionable officiating, they are worthy champions.

The NFL needs to do something, and do it quickly. And they should look no further than the Atlantic Coast Conference who suspended an officiating crew one game for blowing a call. Their bad call in second half of Saturday's Florida State loss to Duke game led to the ejection of a leading Seminole scorer. The ACC, aware that Duke is perceived as being the least penalized team in the conference, wanted to avoid even the hint of a fix.

Who knows, this could spawn the return of baseball to the official role of America's pastime.

Well, except for that whole steroids thing.

Super Bowl XL Recap: Second Half

This is PART TWO of my Super Bowl XL recap. I thought I'd break up my thoughts to make it a little more digestible. First, check out PART ONE, and then read continue reading this post. -You're going to find this crazy, but I'm really having a problem with these black and white photos of Steelers/Seahawks players holding the Lombardi trophy. Most hockey players refuse to even touch the Stanley Cup before they win it. Is there nothing sacred left in sports that the networks won't exploit for publicity? 'Tis a sad, disturbing thing.

-Grey's Anatomy looks interesting, but I liked it better the first time when it was called ER.

-Jerome Bettis should shut his mouth and be thankful that he still has a career. Willie Parker just proved that he's good enough to get the job done running the ball for Pittsburgh. Bettis should be embarrassed for stealing, what should be, Parker's touchdowns. And if it weren't for a Ben Rothlisberger tackle, the lasting memory of Jerome would be him committing the biggest fumble in NFL history.

-The advertising in the first half was so bad, I feel OK about peeing during commercials now.

-Back to Big Ben, I give to you Trent Dilfer and Tom Brady. Rothlisberger had the chance to be just like them: Super Bowl winning quarterbacks who benefited by playing on teams with good defenses. In these situations, your job is simple: don't screw it up. I know there's a lot of football left but, halfway through the third quarter, I think Ben is due for one more interception.

-The commercials are boring. Right now, the game is boring. It's making the halftime show look good. We need a good fourth quarter here. -When is a tackle an illegal block? Another great officiating job.

-Just saw an ad from Boston Legal. So Tom Selleck, the former love interest for Courtney Cox on Friends, is now Candace Bergen's beau? I'm sorry: downgrade.

-Pittsburgh's going to win. Just great. I'm ready to hook up to Kelly's IV. That's IntraVenous line, not four.

-The fumble by Matt Hassleback is overturned. Eight minutes remaining in the game and the officials finally get one right.

-Four minutes left, and I'm contemplating whether or not I want to watch the postgame. I'm thinking I probably will. We're now going to have to endure an entire year of hearing from Steeler fans. Hopefully the birth of my daughter will help me forget this ever happened.

I'm done with this. I'm retiring to my hospital chair/bed. Maybe I'll wake up and Super Bowl XL will be a bad dream.

Super Bowl XL Recap: First Half

So here we are, in the hospital, watching the Super Bowl. I'm not sure I've ever watched the big game with just one other person. And I'm not sure that Kel is going to be able to stay awake through the duration, so it might just be me. There's always much to be said about the NFL championship, but I'll make some observations to keep my self entertained. -Is it just me, or is Aretha Franklin's diva bit a little played out? I'm convinced she thinks that everyone around the world tuned in just hear her sing. Why should we R-E-S-P-E-C-T you when all you care about is your rep?

-What was up with the voice of the woman introducing the past MVP's? It was the audible equivalent of a car accident: incredibly horrible but I could not turn away.

-Kimo Von Oelhoffen just got jacked up by Seattle's center. It won't un-tear Carson Palmer's ACL but it sure made me feel better.

-The pass interference call against Seattle's Darren Jackson could be the worst call NFL officials have made all year. And calling Rothlisberger's goal line dive a touchdown was just as bad. Why is it that the age of instant replay have produced some of the poorest officiating in NFL history.

-Thinking about Budweiser's streaking sheep commercial, I think "Didn't need to see that," could become the day-after-the-Super-Bowl-around-the-water-cooler-catch-phrase. [Scratch that. I'm now going with the guy who clobbered the woman playing touch football saying, "You were open but NOW YOU ARE CLOSED!"].

-This just in: Pittsburgh still sucks.

-Why do companies like Career Builder and Go Daddy, who spend $88,000 a second to advertise during the Super Bowl, rehash their lame commercials from last year?

-I can tolerate Michael Irvin on ESPN, but whose idea was it to give him a microphone on Super Bowl Sunday?

-A quick note to ABC concerning their new show Sons and Daughters: no wonder CBS is cleaning your clock.

-It's the halftime show and all I can think is, "PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE BRING OUT DAVID BOWIE AND DO DANCING IN THE STREETS!" OK, that's a little out of line but I swear if Keith Richards has a wardrobe malfunction I might never be able to have another child.

On Being A Pastor

I forgot to mention that Wally and Barbara Rendel came to visit us on Friday. Wally is the minister at the Southern Acres Christian Church, Kelly's home church in Lexington. Wally did our wedding ceremony and he and Barb took us out to dinner for our final session of premarital counseling. He's the founding pastor of Southern Acres and will retire in June. The fact that they drove from Lexington, Kentucky [a three-hour round trip] just to see us for an hour is rather humbling. Southern Acres has about a thousand people attend each week. There are constant demands in a ministry that size and making a trip to see us would seem like low priority. And especially doing so as you're nearing the end of your ministry, when you don't need to put in that kind of effort, is very impressive. But that's just the kind of pastor he is.

As I recently wrote, I didn't get into ministry to be a pastor; I just loved to preach. To be a good pastor takes a set of skills entirely different from just preaching. You need to love ministering to people. Investing in people's lives demands a lot of time. There are definite joys, but a whole lot of heartache. That's why there's a lot of turn-over in the ministry. But I've learned over the past few years what it takes to be a good pastor. I'm doing my best to put those skills in action.

If I can be half the pastor that Wally is, I might make a good minister after all.

Here Comes Baby!

OK, not really; sorry for crying wolf. But if she's going to come, now is the time because Kelly's parents finally left to go home. They've been here since Tuesday night waiting with us, but it was time they try to get back to their lives as we wait for the big arrival.

It was a blessing to have them come up, giving me the chance to slip out every once in awhile to go home, shower and get some more clothes. And it's been great to have them around for all the encouragement they provide. No joke: I have some awesome in-laws. And I'm not just saying that because I've gotten used to them hooking me up with Egg McMuffins every morning. Thanks so much, Dave and Bev!

Yesterday Dave and I were able to tour the Good Sam neo-natal ICU. The realization is sinking in that our little girl will be here at least a few weeks after Kelly gets to go home. It's a top-notch facility. It's a beautiful, high tech nursery where all the babies can be closely monitored. And the nurse giving us the tour reassured us that our baby is in great shape with her maturity and size. I don't know what it'll be like having to leave our newborn here and go home, but we're about six minutes away. Some parents with babies here live as far as two hours away, so this is another blessing for which we're thankful.

And it figures that, with everything else happening, there was trouble at the condo. Kelly's parents called last night saying that the heat wasn't working. They insisted on spending the night anyway, but it was a cold 52 degrees inside. Considering we have a brand new heat pump, I was a little hot under the collar. This morning I was able to find out that the electric line supplying the heat and our stove had ruptured in the ground. So Cinergy is coming by this afternoon to take care of it. Hopefully, by the end of the day, the heat will be on.

And still, we wait. Place your bets now.

A Room With A View

After spending the first two days at the hospital in a windowless room, I was giddy when they said they were moving us to a room with a window. Kelly really didn't care too much, but even the thought of natural light put a little jump in my step. The fabulous window view we now have:

Um, huge improvement. At least it's something.

How To Win The World For Jesus

We will debate the pagans into submission! The best part of this article is the correction that reads:

In the original version of this report, NEWSWEEK misquoted Falwell as referring to "assault ministry." In fact, Falwell was referring to "a salt ministry"—a reference to Matthew 5:13, where Jesus says "Ye are the salt of the earth." We regret the error.

Imagine that? Jerry Falwell misunderstood. He's still my hero.

Patience

When I was growing up, the bathroom at my parent's house had a slate hanging on the wall. It was from the 100 year-old building where our church met; the building was demolished about 18 years ago. The roof was tiled with these 1'X2' slates, a perfect canvas for our craft-minded neighbor to decorate. This certain slate had a sea-scape painted on it along with a quote from a book called Gift From The Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Yeah, it's chick-lit, but seeing the quote every day caused it to be etched into my mind. And I can recite without hesitation: "Patience is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach— waiting for a gift from the sea."

Like almost all people, I've struggled hard with patience.

Remember when you were younger, you thought, "wouldn't it be nice if we were older?" That's the story of my life. I've always looked young for my age, so I always anticipated getting another year under my belt. Everyone was like this, but when I was twelve, I wanted to be sixteen. When I was sixteen, it was eighteen. When I was eighteen, it was twenty-one. And I also liked to round up my age, just so I could feel legitimate. I just wanted what's next. Just a note, it's funny that at thirty, I finally feel comfortable where I'm at. But my patience issues aren't all about age.

When I graduated Bible college, I was ready to preach. That's why the whole reason I wanted to go into the ministry, not because I wanted to pastor people but because I liked to preach. Think about it: a half hour every week when I talk and everybody has to listen. Are you kidding? That's like getting paid to go to therapy! But out of school, I couldn't get a preaching job; I guess I looked too young. I kept waiting and waiting, through three different jobs, for the opportunity to live out my dream [fortunately God used this time to teach me that the ministry is more than just a homily]. Honestly, if I knew I would have to wait eight years to see that dream become a reality, I might have given up and moved onto a different profession. I am Veruca Salt: I want it now.

And that brings me to right now. 4am in a hospital room striving to be patient. I know we're most likely just beginning this waiting process for our baby, but my stoicism runs thin. But I have a some patience incentive. Now it's not about me getting what I want when I want it. I want so bad to see this little girl's face, to finally hold her in my arms. But I know that my need for instant gratification works against the health of our child. For that, my friends, I'll do all I can to get patient . . . as quickly as possible.

Phillipians 4:4-7 says it best:

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Now, I can wait. Thanks, God, for getting me here.

Survivor Is Back

I'm not really an addict, but what else is there to do? Watching The Survivor premier, two quick thoughts from the first segments: 1) What's the big deal about Exile Island? There are crew members all over the island. So it's not like the people are alone. I love them trying to show how lonely it is via a camera man doing a nice fade-out.

2) When I see a huge dead turtle on a beach, I don't think of mother earth or that North America was once called the Turtle Island [What the ?????]. I think, "Man, I'd love to poke it with a stick."

48 Hours

As we reach a full two days of hospital time, with both wife and baby healthy, and still waiting on the big event, I focus my thoughts on some little observations from the past two days. Try this one on for size. Printed on every television in this hospital [or at least the two rooms we've had so far] is the following announcement:

"Local Phone/TV Service is $7.50 per day"

Now I have definite issues here. Call the doctor because I feel a rant coming on.

First I ask, why lump these two services together? Since when do phones and TV go hand in hand? Of course you could say that Time Warner Cable now provides phone service so "shut-it, Steve," but you don't have to get those services together. With cell phones, we have little use for the room line- and don't get on me about not using cell phones in the hospital, because EVERYONE HERE is doing it!

You might think that the substantial price for the services would mean they have high-tech gadgets to use. You would be wrong. We're watching a Zenith 16-inch television that won't show the entire screen. Watching the Kentucky game last night, we could only see half of the score. A game is a lot less interesting when you have no idea who's winning. And there's no "push-button" remote so, to change the channels, you have to go through every channel along the way. If you're want to watch channel 43 and you accidentally hit the button and go past that channel, you have to start again at channel one and start all over. Oh, and the phone is nothing to write home about either.

Finally do the math here. If you factor this out over the course of a month, which is how long we could possibly be here. That would be $225. Normally telephone and cable would cost about $70 per month. I think I could buy a TV and phone for the remaining $155. This is a racket if I've ever seen one. No wonder the hospital can afford this huge expansion.

With so much downtime on our hands this is a service that I refuse to do without. We'll see just how good our health insurance is [the sign also says that the charges will show up on our home telephone bill. Seeing as we don't use Cincinnati Bell, this might be difficult for the hospital]. We have to have television to watch so now I'm using the phone all the time, randomly calling people around the city. The dialogue goes something like this: "Hey, it's Steve here. My wife's having a baby at Good Sam hospital. We're paying for this phone call. So what do you want to talk about?"

Gotta go. It's time for Survivor . . .

Didn't I post this yesterday?

We've been a tad preoccupied the past couple days, so I apologize if others have already said this. But today is groundhog day and the groundhog saw his shadow and we get six more weeks of winter. This winter is on record as one of the mildest winters in a century. Is anyone really disappointed if we get six more weeks of this?

30 Hours Later

OK, here's where we are: Kelly did better today, better than the doctors predicted. Apparently they really thought she could have the baby last night [but they were wise and didn't tell us]. She only had about five contractions today and was only in mild discomfort. Plus, she was able to eat some food. Hospital food is a drag, but she really enjoyed the Jello; Bill Cosby would be proud.

While time stands still in our world right now, every day that passes is another day our little girl can grow stronger. They're continuing giving Kel magnesium in hopes of keeping things where they are. We're unsure how long she'll be able to hold it; it could happen tomorrow or it could happen in weeks. All we know is that by March 1st we'll have a baby; and Kelly is stuck in the hospital until it happens.

We had a great time as friends and family visited today. We had no idea how many people cared! This was both relieving and exhausting to Kelly. The medical staff here have some concerns with the volume of visitors we've had and asked that we limit the number of people who come to visit. Wanting to respect their request, and wanting what's best for the baby and Kelly, we're going to ask that only our families visit during the next few days. And instead of calling the hospital room to check on us, please call my cell or send me an email [they have Wi-Fi here]. Thanks for understanding our needs.

We deeply appreciate everyone's concern and care. I promise I'll get updates along when things happen. Your prayers have been a blessing.

Soon to be a papa, steve

Change of Plans

I'm writing this post from Good Samaritan hospital. Yesterday afternoon Kelly called me from her doctor's appointment with some startling news: she had gone into labor. I rushed over [understatement] to meet her at the hospital. The lifesquad brought her here. So much has happened in the last twelve hours, let me give the details.

Kelly just hit thirty weeks at midnight. The little girl is healthy enough that, if born now, she'd most likely be OK. Still, she's better off inside Kelly as long as possible, to allow her lungs some time to develop. They have her on magnesium which makes her whole body limp, but it proved successful. She won't leave the hospital until the baby comes, so sometime in the next couple of weeks the baby will be here. Could be today, could be tomorrow, could be next week. We'll find out more later this morning as her doctors do some consultation.

Of course, this was all quite the surprise. We thought we had a couple more months [at least a few weeks] to prepare. Kelly started having contractions yesterday morning and thought it was a stomach ache. Her doctor said that if she hadn't had her appointment yesterday that I would have delivered her baby last night. There's a scary thought.

Quick blessings: Kelly is doing an awesome job. Apparently the doctors say she has a high threshold of pain [she married me, didn't she?].

Good Sam is one of the top prenatal hospitals in the world. The staff has been great; our nurse last night was wonderful. We even managed to sneak in some sleep here and there.

Kelly's parents were able to come up last night. It was a relief for Kelly to have them here, plus it gave me the chance to run home a pack the proverbial "baby suitcase."

I'll let you know how things are going. Prayers are definitely appreciated.

Where Were You?

Pearl Harbor and JFK's Assassination- two "generational moments" that touched America. Moments that cause people to remember exactly where they were or what they were doing when they first heard about them. Unfortunately, my generation has had two such moments. Obviously the terrorist attacks on America are unforgettable but the first moment was the space shuttle Challenger. This weekend marked twenty years since the Challenger disaster. On January 28, 1986 I was in Mrs Smith's fourth grade class at John Foster Dulles elementary school. We weren't among the students watching the launch on live TV because our lunch period occurred at that time. I remember someone coming up to our table saying that the shuttle had exploded, and we thinking it was a joke. I can remember exactly where I was sitting in the cafeteria. We spent the rest of the day glued to the television watching the disastrous news come in. For years I thought that would be our generation's moment in time.

Last night A&E had a special about on about the World Trade Center bombings. Whenever these 9/11 programs come on, I feel obligated to watch. On September 11, 2001 I was working at Cincinnati Bible College in the admissions office. Evan's wife called to tell us to turn on the television. We watched intently as the smoke bellowed from the north tower. But the moment the south tower suddenly burst into flames, and we all recognized that this wasn't an accident, everything changed. I remember how numb I felt in that moment. I was coach of the school's women's soccer team and I cancelled practice that day. I stayed up that night until 3am watching the news. I couldn't believe what had happened.

A crazy thing about being human: we can feel the pain of losing someone we've never met. I didn't personally know any of the people who perished in either of those accidents yet I felt [and still feel] this connection with them. Perhaps it's because we're forced to reflect on our own humanity. Churches in this country were never as full the weekend after September 11th; and everyone was praying. These moments make us realize how frail life is, that we're not invincible, and that we should cherish all the days we have on earth.

Maybe that's why I feel the need to watch every program about these disasters. I need to constantly be reminded of how precious and fleeting my own existence is. It gives me another piece of motivation to carpe diem and make a difference in this world. My mortality should affect the way I carry myself in life, and seeing the sudden deaths of others puts that into perspective.

I don't know if that's it or not, but I keep coming back to these moments in time. I am the only one, or do these moments stir you as well?

He Can't Handle The Truth

The heat was too much.

I wrote a couple of weeks ago about James Frey, whose non-fiction best-seller A Million Little Pieces was found to be full of lies. Book sales were jettisoned by being in Oprah's book club. For awhile the media queen denied that this was a big deal, but she finally came to terms and brought James Frey back on her show. [Correction: NY Times pulled the transcript, but their coverage is here.]

It's hilarious that Frey's still trying to live in the false reality he's created. He said, "I mean, what was true is there was that person. Every one of the people in the book existed. I altered things about all of them." Plus, while I'm adding things, I finally saw some of the video on the news this morning and, "DANG!" That was one ticked-off billionaire! And Frey was just a deer in the headlights as Oprah tore him a new one. I wonder if he was even aware why Oprah asked him back on the show]

Oprah has withdrawn her support of Frey and his book.

La Pequena Chica

First off, El Rancho Grande is still the best restaurant ever.

Had to get that out of the way.

A trip to El Rancho was my treat for participating in the arduous task known as "registering for baby shower." We were an hour and a half at Babies 'R' Us this evening, neck deep in pastels [which even makes Kelly gag]. Don't worry; I made it out alive.

I remember eight years ago when we were registering for our wedding. Now that was a good time. I wielded that price gun like Doc Holiday on the streets of Tombstone ["I'm your Huckleberry"]. It was the same task today, with a different purpose. The estrogen levels were awfully high. All the men in the place, accompanying their pregnant partners looked like they were being held hostage with no ransom in sight.

Look, don't get me wrong. I'm so excited about the little girl. I can't wait 'till she gets here. I'm looking forward to all the things fatherhood has to offer. But I don't care what color her sheets are, or what kind of sippie cups she'll use. But I guess it's stuff other people are going to get us. So I'll shut up now. Because I'm an idiot.

Did I mention we ate at El Rancho Grande tonight?

God Bless Hooters!

Wait! Don't get all judgemental! I didn't say that. He did.

The head Catholic priest for the Greater Waco area blessed the new Hooters restaurant in town.

Monsignor Isidore Rozycki is quoted as saying, “Blessings are part of the Catholic tradition. You bless the building so it will be a safe haven, so that the families that enter will be blessed, so the employees will be blessed as they support their families."

OK then.

If this works, he should expect more calls.

"Monsignor, Larry Flint on line one."