Just as Our Lord was preceded by St. John the Baptist, so too was the path of my vital internet ministry first prepared by a voice crying in the wilderness. In this instance, however, that Faithful Servant was not only - let’s be frank about this – wiser than he who followed, and invariably less vitriolic, but frequently wrote with a compassion not dissimilar the sweetness of wild honey. Although I know for a fact that he drew the line at eating locusts.
And now – for the benefit of any Dearly Beloved Sinners who don’t already know this – he’s back from the wilderness. Regardless of how desperately little David Virtue may have sought to pretend he’s Salome, and demanded our Prophet’s head on a platter, Father Jake’s cranium remains firmly attached to his neck. And he’s not afraid to use it.
Go there now, and go there often. One cannot live on sarcasm alone.