Catholic fashion show

It's hard for me to gauge the newest political bestsellers because they aren't readily available at the Buddhist monastery were I am currently staying. You wouldn't believe how complicated it is for me to contribute to this blog from up on my mountaintop. I have to handwrite my posts on paper that I make myself with a bare piece of pencil lead, just like my boy Malone. Then Jikan ("J-bone" to his friends and fellow American Idol fans) gets it to our passenger pigeon (not extinct yet baby, don't tip and shout...ahhh...prematurely) who sends it to India where I have landed a sweet deal with a typing service. I totally moved that operation offshore. Now I don't have to pay for my typist's healthcare or even to have running water in the typing center. Sweet, huh? But, you know, these Buddhists can be real bastards. I spent most of the last week making this incredibly intricate design with colored sand, then they just blew it all away in the wind. All those duders said to me was, "Before zen, a mountain is a mountain. During zen, nothing is clear. After zen, a mountain is a mountain again." I thought that was a great story. Mainly because it was long enough for me to lift all their wallets (I was a cannon before some tiger caught me in 'Frisco a few years back). That got me $14.76, a soggy Darryl Strawberry rookie card, and two free passes to the horse track.

I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea here, though. Just because I live with Buddhists doesn't mean I don't dig other peoples' religions. Mad props for diversity! New pope Benedict XVI has reminded me of Federico Fellini's Roma (1972). I dig the catholic fashion show Fellini stages near the end. Can we get some quasi-futuristic papal robes people? We deserve at least that much. Anything with sequins and/or resembling something Elvis or El Vez would wear would make my millennium.

PS - Anybody know where I guy can get a pair of Fellini sunglasses these days? Holla at the blog comments if you do.