Tired of Talking About Pedophiles, Bishop Richard Lennon Hires Oenophile

Catholic Bishop Richard Lennon, sent from Boston to act as battering ram to area churches, held a wine tasting-cum-press conference at his sumptuous home last week.

Guests were former county commissioner Jimmy Demora, Municipal judge Angela Stokes, and two young, male, servers from St. Stanislaus.

Bishop Lennon began by opening and pouring from a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac 1996. “I think you’ll enjoy this, my brothers in Christ. Don’t let the dark color put you off. It’s a silky little thing, this Pauillac, and 1996 was its best year. I taste a little mint and black currants, just sliding across my tongue, as if to challenge me to identify them. Well, I have, by the grace of God.”

As his guests drained their plastic glasses, His Eminence twirled the cork on a very sexy Chateau Margaux 1995.  “As you search for the slippery cassis hidden inside, let me tell why we’re meeting.

“As you know, our Blessed by God Diocese has come into substantial money. If I knew what sort of sheckels could be made selling old churches and stained windows, believe me,  we would have poured those California wines into Lake Erie a long time ago.

“And here is an example of the power of Jesus Christ, no mean vintner his own self.  I never prayed for a creamy, dreamy Chateau Haut Brion Pessac-Lognan 1982, and yet that is our next wine.”

As his guests chugged the last of the Chateau Margaux, one of the servers passed out. “Oh, put the little darling on my bed,” His Eminence said, “and I’ll take care of him later.”

The Pessac-Lognan was opened and poured while His Eminence resumed. “As I was saying, fewer churches mean fewer problems, and our new found wealth allows us to be more Christ-like, at least in wine consumption. The Book of John … or was it Luke … no, maybe the Book of Apocrypha … well, no matter. Christ taught us to drink the best wine first and if you harbor doubt, may I refer you to the Marriage at Cana?” At this point, the second server threw up, Judge Stokes started crying, and the former commissioner held his empty glass to the Bishop, who promptly chastised the Catholic politician. “Not so fast, Jimmy, my boy.” Bishop Richard Lennon, no relation to John, reached into an ice bucket and pulled a bottle of champagne. “Please, Sweet Baby James, open this for us, will you?” Dimora’s manicured fingers made short work of the wire and the cork popped out with a resounding ‘wop!’

“What’s this stuff, Rev?” Dimora asked his host. Laughing, the Bishop took the chilled bottle and said, “This stuff? This stuff, Jimmy? Oh, it’s more than this stuff. This is Krug’s Clos du Mesnil 1995.  Enjoy it, my boy, for it is as close to French kissing God as we will get on this Earth.”

Dimora chugged the champagne, burped loudly and held his empty glass to the Bishop, who promptly refilled it. “And now, James, and Angela, and my sweet young altar boys, here is the surprise: May I introduce you to the Celestial Sommelier …”

A chorus of tympanies grew louder and louder until a door opened and in walked the sommelier, perfect in custom tuxedo and patent leather shoes. His eyes met each of his clients and he smiled broadly. “Good evening, my friends, my name is George Forbes and it will always be my pleasure to serve you.”