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Sounds like a hook. The congregation will say, “Huh? He said WHAT?”

Sounds like a hook

Yes..

'Course you can run with a hook-line only so far before you find yourself flailing in dubious theology, but you can end up with some interesting sermon material as long as you can tie it into some proper exegesis!

Sounds like a hook. The congregation will say, “Huh? He said WHAT?”

I'm not sure which "he" you're talking about, but I said, just a few moments ago, that "we are mud-pies made of star-stuff".

You know how preachy I get about science.

This Scoutmaster I guy I've known all my life is in search of some magic words to convince is very, very better half that the family would be better in the eyes of G_d if it were to become the servants of another Feline Overlord.

Oh, and hello and how are you and long time no talk and good evening and how's the brood?¿?

The plotline: San's apartment is just a skootch from one of the local Humane Society's adoption centers, which is also the one closest to two locations where I worked for, in the aggregate, about zebenteen years, and where I drop in a couple of times a month to see ze kittens and ze puppies because they make me happy. End plotline.

I swapped Hupmobiles with San last night so I could attend to some repairs today as the only Hupmobile dealer in the southeastern US is close to me (¿did you know the automobile on the back on the US$10 bill is a Hupmobile? Knowledge - it's not just to keep Knowable and Known from crashing into each other in the OED anymore). Zo, on my return to my domicile, I swung by the Humane Society.

Russian Blue! And they didn't even post a warning! I thought that was required by a Treaty of the Hague Convention.

A very young (not yet a year old), huge, male, talkative, playful, affectionate, friendly, gorgeous, intelligent, loves-to-fetch, Russian Blue, with a thick, lush, coat.

I phoned She Who Must Be Obeyed, who is not a fan in particular of anything feather, furred, or finned, and suggested we may want to adopt (I named him on the spot) Vladimir Sergei Stroganov Dmitriyevich Shostakovich, she responded, coldly, 'Nyet.'

I only played with Vladimir for about 40 minutes and I have a Tsarist void.

I write to you for advice. I can't change the Spousal Unit and in a choice between Little Miss Perfect and a cat, Little Miss Perfect wins in a landslide.

¿What shall I do?

This is an affair of the heart with a slight feline oeuvre.