'Oy veh! Jesus, get over here . . . now! The neighborhood kids are at it again!'

I'm not getting into this fight though, as a Catholic, I do have my doctrinal sympathies.

These kinds of Catholic-Protestant pissing matches always end up shedding a lot more heat than light, and they usually end up with everyone acting pretty damned un-Christian as an extra-added bonus. And the smell after a day or so is just stomach-turning.

ON THE OTHER HAND, in my mind's eye, I can picture mother Mary grabbing the Internet Monk (here's his website) and the Paragraph Farmer by the scruffs of the neck and dragging them to her hotshot Son, the rabbi, for some theological instruction and general straightening-out.

Brother Shea would have come to Jesus slightly ahead of the others, however, because Mama (with two hands full of neighborhood disorderliness already) would be propelling him forward via occasional swift kicks to the tuchus.

Come to think of it, though, that's pretty much how we Papists have seen the Mother of God all along, isn't it?