While shopping recently at the illustrious Winn-Dixie on Big Pine, the store was being blessed with the presence of non other then Key West’s fraudulent priest.

You know who, or the “not so monsignor” was mostly filling the end of the beans and rice isle, holding up a box proclaiming the contents had way too much salt.

The Keys very own “kind of monsignor” is living proof that the words of Shakespeare ring true:”the world is a stage and we are but the players.” or if you prefer, Jimmy Hendrix: “There are some here among us who feel that life is but a joke.”

Personally I find the pseudo monsignor’s treading across religious sanctimony on the verge of hysterically funny. I’m crying here, hand me a tissue, please, I do wonder, though, how many less obvious false beacons of light are amongst us.

So perhaps the self-admitted “I’ve been a baaaad boy” is not all bad after all is said and done. Could he be forgiven? If somenone’s God would allow it, I suppose.

I hear he likes to cook and with gas to boot. Maybe some (a good italiano) dishes are in order for rectification,

well, the Keys are alive and well and still are at the end of the road like the characters that live here. You just can’t change that, thank goodness, or whomever you choose.