World awaits Anglican Primates' Statement on Homosexuality in Ireland


What do I care about a bunch of English monkeys and their take on Irish gays or lesbians?

That headline – although using accurate language, just made me laugh. I know I’m a primate…and I’m not even talking about my last name: bishop = primate.

(Mary Primate might make me stand out in a crowd. It does have a ring to it…)

Accurate word usage or not, primate equals monkey to me, maybe too much Discovery channel from the old days before extreme makeover and forensic science shows swallowed up the channel.

When I look at that headline I see monkeys and hear an English accent -- a chimp saying Cheerio.

But all this primate talk reminds me that my last name does indicate that at some point in time some ancestor-in-law was some form of a religious person.

What a mean trick played on that poor soul! I am without a doubt the least religious person in the world.

Raised Catholic, I’d vomit up the host. Couldn’t bear swallowing it as it tasted like phlegm. I also fainted in church…hated the smell of incense and have never learned how to trust men in dresses with the exception of RuPaul.

The bloody agonized Christ on the Cross, made me want to clamp my eyes closed and never open them -- and to this day I still feel the same way.

If I go to church, it’s because someone I like a lot is getting married or died. I show respect. But inside I’m still a stomach-churning, teeth-clenching, scared-to-death child, wondering why all this talk about eating body and blood? Why the remains of a tortured man in a loin cloth at the front of the church for all to see?

My vision/version of a bunch of monkeys sitting around discussing the sex life of Irishmen works for me…it makes me laugh.

Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa if you don’t like what I see.