Oh by the way, folks,
Today we make fun of the Prophecy of Saint Malachy, supposedly written in 1139. It first turned up in 1595, and supposedly contains descriptions of all future popes.
It's a blatantly obvious forgery, written in about 1590 or thereabouts. The descriptions of all popes up to 1590 are precisely accurate, and from that date henceforth they suddenly become strikingly fuzzy.
Anyhow, if you ignore the fuzziness and make a simple count, our Pope who's now scheduled to resign in a coupla more weeks is next-to-last. The one they're gonna select is gonna be the last.
By sheer coincidence, there actually is a remote possibility that the Catholic church may be in such a state of total corruption that it won't survive the term of office of the soon-to-be-selected pope. But I wouldn't count on it.
And so today is Valentines Day, and we hung it all out and made a dinner reservation at a place that's sorta far to walk in bad weather. Fortunately, it looks like we're gonna have pretty nice weather for our walk.
We prefer to dine out at someplace we can walk to so we can have whatever booze we like without contributing to our community's already generous reputation as Drunk Driving Capital of the World.
Signs of life