Those unfamiliar with Phillipe and Jorge's childhoods are often surprised to learn that in our Wonder Years, your superior correspondents were quite the choirboys. Yes, we were the sort of upstanding, church-going, Bible verse-quoting 'utes who were chosen to give sermons on Youth Fellowship Day at our local places of worship.

Indeed, P.'s late and wonderful stepfather was a Pennsylvania Dutch-bred Methodist minister who headed Religion in American Life, a national religious advocacy organization that appealed to all denominations to "Live Your Faith, Light the World." (P. also entered Brown as a religious studies major. That did about as much for his career prospects as asking out the daughter of an unfathomably wealthy CEO of a major corporation — a CEO who, forthwith, asked his daughter if it was worth losing her inheritance to continue seeing him. But we digress.)

P&J, then, have always had a great deal of respect for those who support the core principles of most religions, though there are a few exceptions to that rule. We are less than enamored of the guy in Rome wearing Dorothy's ruby slippers and his misogynistic, thong-wearing, hypocritical, child-molesting cadre. And we have our doubts about those from a faith that has subscribed to polygamy and racism, claimed to have found scriptures in upstate New York, and sported magic Underoos — a faith that has produced a certain presidential candidate. Can you say "delusional," boys and girls?

Anyway, P&J get a chuckle out of reports that the newly chosen Episcopal Bishop of Rhode Island is the Very Rev. W. Nicholas Knisely of Phoenix, Arizona, whose election remains to be ratified by the Episcopal Church's General Convention next month. The issue is how you get to be "very" reverend, when we always thought the "reverend" title was the benchmark for telegraphing that you have pretty decent bull sessions with the Big Sir.

P&J's ecclesiastic sources tell us that the "Very Reverend" title indicates that you are really on top of your God game, and not just some Jesus suck-up barely out of the theological seminary. Still, impressive that the Very Reverend Knisely beat two exceptional candidates for his slot as top collar, edging out the Very, Very, Very Reverend Rosemary Pork-Tenderloin of Cleveland, Ohio, and the highly regarded So-Reverend-You-Wouldn't-Even-Believe-It Richard Hertz of San Diego, California.

P&J doff our miters to the Very Reverend Knisely, offer our congrats, and suggest that if he wants to have a few Very Potent Pernod and grapefruits once ensconced in his new position, he should give us a whistle.


P&J very much looked forward to the recently aired HBO drama Hemingway & Gellhorn, about the love affair between Papa Hem and esteemed war correspondent Martha Gellhorn, starring Clive Owen and Nicole Kidman. (And P&J forgive the latter for her previous sham marriage to Tom Cruise, because she is still hotter than sunburn.)

But we were a bit distracted by Owen's mustache and glasses look, which recalled Groucho Marx and bestowed something less than gravitas on a character on the front lines of the Spanish Civil War.

Every time Owen's Hemingway got off one of his biting, insightful lines, we expected Chico Marx to pop out up in his undersized Tyrolean hat and exclaim in his faux-Italian accent, "Dat's a good one, boss."

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