We recently heard about the booking of Worcester Bishop Robert McManus for a DUI and hit-and-run on the night of May 4 in Narragansett, where the good Bish has a vacation home in Bonnet Shores. Hey, as P&J always say in horrible French accents, "Honi soit qui mal y pense," which essentially means, "Give people an effing break on your initial assessment, fer Chrissakes, maybe it wasn't so bad."
Following the incident, Bishop McManus, who served as auxiliary bishop in Providence for five years before becoming head Catholic ramrod in Worcester in 2004, quickly issued what P&J believed was a heartfelt and contrite statement: "On Saturday evening, May 4, I made a terrible error in judgment by driving after having consumed alcohol with dinner. There is no excuse for the mistake I made, only a commitment to make amends and accept the consequences of my action."
But then on May 7 he pleaded not guilty in court. Huh?
Forgive us, Father, but the Bish's comment about "accepting the consequences of my action" seemed to be about as close to a confession — both religious and/or legal — as we could imagine. If he is indeed true to his word, why not go for a guilty verdict, stop taking up the court's time, and publicly fall on his sword?
But the Lord evidently works in mysterious ways when it comes to one of his anointed getting popped. The prosecutor in the case doesn't have to be Perry Mason to convince anyone that McManus committed these infractions by using his own words against him. But, then again, in The Biggest Little you can never tell. We suspect our old pal former Rhode Island Speaker of the House Bill Murphy could get a few angels to serve as defense witnesses, saying they distracted McManus by whispering in his ear while he was driving or turned water into wine in his bloodstream. But even that is a long shot.
Should the Bish be found guilty, P&J suggest a fitting punishment: serving a bunch of hours of community service in his adopted state by regularly working the litter patrol at the infamous Bishop Jellomold rest area on Route 195 in Seekonk. (If you don't know what we're talking about, you're missing a legendary Vo Dilun story about what happens when the churchman meets the lawman. Hello, selah.)
WILD WEST KINGSTON?
The recent controversy over arming the police at the University of Rhode Island has begged a number of questions at Casa Diablo.
In years gone by, it would be a foregone conclusion that P&J wouldn't want security guards packing on campus. The fewer the guns, the less chance someone has of getting blown away during a campus patrolman's overzealous response to kids who make Justin Bieber look mature.
But times have changed. From Virginia Tech to Sandy Hook Elementary School, the ante has been upped severely and P&J's viewpoints have evolved accordingly. And the stink URI made about how long it took for South Kingstown and state troopers to respond to the recent (bogus) scare about a shooter on campus is at the crux of it.