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Pope's research:

There was a Pope who was greatly loved by all of his followers, a man who led with gentleness, faith and wisdom. His passing was grieved by the entire world, Catholic or not. As the Pope approached the gates of heaven, it was Saint Peter who greeted him in a firm embrace.

"Welcome, your holiness; your dedication and unselfishness in serving your fellow man during your life have earned you great stature in heaven. You may pass through the gates without delay and are granted free access to all parts of heaven."

"You are also granted an open door policy and may at your own discretion meet with any heavenly leader, including the Father without prior appointment. Is there anything which your holiness desires?"

"Well, yes," the Pope replied. "I have often pondered some of the mysteries which have puzzled and confounded theologians through the ages. Are there perhaps any transcripts which recorded the actual conversations between God and the prophets of old? I would love to see what was actually said, without the dimming of memories over time."

Saint Peter immediately ushered the Pope to the heavenly library and explained how to retrieve the various documents. The Pope was thrilled and settled down to review the history of man's relationship with God.

Two years later a scream of anguish pierced the stacks of the library. Immediately several of the Saints and Angels came running. There they found the Pope pointing to a single word on a parchment, Repeating over and over,

"It was misspelled! There's an 'R', there's an 'R' __ it's celibrate, not celibate!"

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MrsPerfesser had a hard day.... the Salon de Beaute' had screwed up her hair color - again - ... an Insurance Salesman had come calling and wouldn't leave until she spilled a glass of iced tea on him...

Then the old perfesser came home in a foul mood. Not much was said at all during dinner, which just pissed her off even more.

After the dishes were done and the trailer picked up a bit, she took a long, leisurely bath and crawled into bed. She was nearing peaceful sleep, when the old perfesser, unwashed and more than just a bit tipsy came into the bedroom, ripped off his clothes, climbed into bed and plopped on top of her.

"Get offa me!" she yelled at him.

"Whassa matter, am I hurtin' you?" the old perfesser giggled.

"No, you're not hurting me, you're annoying me!" said MrsPerfesser. "Why the hell would you ever imagine you could hurt me with THAT!?"
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Updated 10.6.2017 10:24
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