Man alive, is that a dangerous invitation these days -- when the Queens congregate, the effect is much like the blessedly eventful flip side of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. And I sure as hell could use a change of scenery. And enough people have materialised from out of nowhere to say that Sodom by the Sea is pure heaven that it's almost freakishly omenesque.
Now, I've been promising myself that I'll make the trip to crown Darth fils when the day comes. Who knows if I'll ever return here?
I mean, c'mon, if I can tell you that Rigali and Stika noshed Lungotevere last night, that a Synod Father "conspicuous by his arrogance" was bypassing his small group and sending his personal modi to the floor and that a certain national college went all kinds of nutty about an archiepiscopal "intruder" from six time zones away, then what's another three?
Hell, from this chair in which I'm sitting right now, I was The San Francisco Chronicle's source that that city's archbishop would become the most powerful American in Vatican history ten days out. (Observant readers will remember that I wrote an op-ed to celebrate, to boot.) Some still can't get over that -- and the paper didn't believe it themselves at first, even after I had the champagne in the fridge. But when the call comes through that "It's time to Rock 'n Roll," well, it's time to Rock 'n Roll, no?
Best of all, I don't think Archbishop Niederauer's curia is big on intimidating into silence independent observers keen to do their jobs. That's a big plus.
And, lest I forget, there's the divinely-inspired Mark Morford, whose columns have become the Bible of our times.
Suffice it to say, the wheels are a-turnin'. I'm in dire need of a Love Parade.