You know, I don't get out much.
Over to the Discalced Nuns to pick up a discipline whenever mine wears out (usually during Lent or Spring Break), up to the Divine Mercy Shrine to go to Confession to that nice old Polish priest who either doesn't understand English or can't hear (how else explain the "sayyaz dee tree Haily Marys" penance after the load of peccata I dump each month), then down to the Dew-Drop-Inn when those ISIS folks on FOX scare the shit out of me.
But even I can see the difference in the kind of place that not only produces a Timmy Cardinal Arf-Arf but actually puts him in charge of churning out new ones compare to the kind of place that gave us Papa Francesco.
Check out the tap-dancing seminarians at the North American Bishops' Factory in Rome, a.k.a., the Land Flowing With Scotch and Money (even if you have to go to a big computer to watch the file; trust Fr D, more than worth it!):
And the latest video from the Seminary in Buenos Aires:
Jeeeezus, is it even the same Church?
Time to start practicing my Spanish: hablo, hablas, habla . . . .