There was a time in the not-too-distant past when it was universally recognized, even among heathens, that there was no finer companion when camping than a Franciscan priest.
Whether the campers faced Arctic cold, endless drizzle, mosquitoes or famine, nothing raised the spirit more than this camper.
Nobody ennobled the weak or raised spirits more. The fearful took heart. Congenital liars embraced truth. Sober men took to song. In his presence, those inclined to strong drink grew agreeable.
Lo, no other companion has ever rendered such service to so many or done it with endless humility and never an unkind word.
Such is the eternal and universal appeal of the common campfriar.
Another good camping companion is a dog. My daughter called yesterday and said the state took her dog away...too many unpaid barking tickets.ReplyDelete
Go to your room.ReplyDelete
I have heard it said puns are the lowest form of wit.What that says about me should go unsaid. Except that it's my opinion that if there is no groan you're not trying hard enough, and the bigger the groan the better. Just sayin.ReplyDelete
and btw you win.Delete
You know, I learned the hard way never to buy flowers from monks. NO ONE should do that: only you can prevent florist friars.ReplyDelete
definitely honorable mention at worst maybe 2nd place felt the groan in my kneesReplyDelete