What to Do After Sex?

The bi-weekly gathering of les femmes of St. Cletus's Parish in the New Orleans coffeehouse sometimes has conversations that run into the borderline risqué. Let's face it: this is partly due to the inherent interest in some topics and also raising these helps to egg on some more reticent members among the coffee-drinkers to reveal more about themselves than they planned.

Okay, the topic that came up for the day was what to do after sex. Needless to say, both the sexually active conversational participants and the celibate ones found this interesting! One reason why this topic is intrinsically interesting is because some in the group occasionally reporting having  problems with post-coital tristesse. Bonne nuit tristesse! Alas, Galen got it wrong when he wrote that "every animal is sad after coitus except for the human female and the rooster." One wonders about his research sampling methods . . . . Were his partners accomplished in faking orgasms, or happy it was over? 

Anyway, the two usual suspects for post-coital activities, sleeping and cuddling came up right away. Missy Chauvin pointed out that some guys were just not that good at cuddling, and that maybe cuddling lessons should be added to the college curriculum!* That got a rise, to be sure! Still, some said that cuddling is a great way to come down afterwards. 

Also mentioned was that old reliable, Netflix.

Hilda Walspurgis recommended that, if you feel energized after sex, then that's a perfect time to do some house cleaning! Nothing like vacuuming to carry on the feeling!

Missy reported that having great sex made her feel like practicing basketball. She was the reigning H-O-R-S-E champion of the Parish! This explains the popularity of the N.B.A.

Along those same lines, Clotilde Badeaux said that she would immediately segue into her yoga regime. Clara Thibodaux asked, "What about the guy you were canoodling with?"

Her response was, "I don't know. The last one left while I was doing down dog and farted!"

Speaking of cleaning, neat freak Marie d'Aquin said that she always took a shower immediately afterwards. And it saves water to shower with a friend. When asked if the guy she had sex with is a friend, she replied, "Well, I do give him a performance review before asking him to join me!"

Bernadette Richard raised an interesting possibility: spend some time afterwards on a post-performance review. Clearly, she was influenced by some of the new thinking in business! And, who knows, maybe it might increase the enjoyment of future encounters . . . . especially for those not following the short-term (hookup) mating strategy.**

Madeline cautiously inquired whether the same sort of activity choices would apply after making out. Immediately this caused some of the gathering to wonder whether their assumptions regarding her and Officer Pete were valid. Not that anyone had the nerve to ask!

Suzette Picou, AKA the Existential Stripper, said that after sex she would then make a pot of coffee. This mystified the good ladies; but she put it in terms to re-priming the pump for an encore!

Madeline asked, like a typical Orleanian, "Do you serve it straight or café au lait and use real chicory coffee or that weak stuff that tourists drink?" 

*That would be a real plus for the P.E. Department!

**A concept that you can credit or blame evolutionary psychology for.

The Coffee Girls Try Out Boudoir Photography

The biweekly get-together over coffee and beignets recently got a new twist for animated discussion; something not involving questions of New Orleans politics or faith or morals. No, give our ladies credit for being more broad in their interests. Now sashaying into the realm of fine arts.

Specifically, Suzanne Picou mentioned that a photographer friend of hers was introducing a new line: boudoir photography. No, this is not a flashback from the 1990s when mall photographers included period costumes for teen girls to pose in for boyfriend- or husband-intended pictures. This was cheesecake for the masses, without the high caloric overload from the edible product.

It's typical of New Orleans, in a way, to be totally retro in tastes. Thus Mme. Pluchard and M. Antoine opened a line of boudoir photography as a stylistic venture. It caught on among the latent vain and curious.

These boudoir pictures were pictures that the photographer had made of ladies in slightly erotic poses and costumes: revealing swimsuits, nightgowns, guêpières, teddies, and so forth. Suffice it to say, the girls were interested!

But how far to take it? Surprisingly, to an unexpected degree. Even the ordinarily discreet Madeline and the prudish Hilda Walspurgis were game for glamor this time. Madeline thought that a mild nightgown pose might please Officer Pete; and Hilda apparently rose to an unexpected degree in raciness. Oh well, consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds, as some overquoted Transcendentalist supposedly said.

Even better. They would sign up for photography sessions, and at their next meeting share their creations with each other while consuming café au lait and beignets.

So it happened. 

And the next coffee session was looked forward with great anticipation. Mme. Pluchard managed to please even the more timid models, and they all came with their envelopes containing proofs.

Clotilde Badeau posed with a come hither look in her lingerie. Tell-tale stretch marks were discreetly airbrushed out. The ladies oohed and ahhed.  Clotilde, at first shy, smiled and then beamed with happiness.

Suzette Picou's featured her as naked as a jaybird. [Question for linguistic purists: Are there any avian species besides penguins that wear clothes?] The fact that Suzette was the Existential Stripper made her used to appearing in that way. As a matter of fact, she considered using a print of her pose on a poster. 

Madeline Dupré posed demurely in a becoming black nightgown, merely hinting at curves. Still, it was effective.

Clara Thibodaux wore the red guêpière, a garment never worn by her before. As a matter of fact, she liked the look enough that she purchased one that was similar to the photographer's prop garment.

Missy Chauvin thought she looked smashing in a pink teddy. Maybe a little too daring, but maybe not . . . . Well, it might be too much for Action News!

Marie d'Aquin favored a demure white nightgown for her shoot. She was pleased with the outcome, as was her husband later on!

Hilda Walspurgis wore a black transparent robe, black stockings, and extremely tiny red knickers. She definitely showed another side to herself! A side that she did not encounter before this but was glad for having made the acquaintance.

Just then Father Devereaux and Brother Bob came in for their daily dose of New Orleans stimulant with beignets. The ladies were in the process of passing around the photographer's proofs of them in their finery, and this created a bit of a stir.

The two clerics figured that there was something going on, and it might be better if they didn't inquire too closely. Some things are just not covered in seminaries! Thus, all sides were spared embarrassment.  

So was this a departure into bad taste? Maybe not. As Clotilde put it, "I never would have dared this by myself. You all were nice in supporting me in doing this!" And it was thus that the members of the group got past certain hangups regarding their bodies. After all, critical eyes can find fault anywhere but real friends help you to get over this sense that we don't look like supermodels!

After all, what we see with the professional models also may include some soft focusing, airbrushing, and other tricks to artificially improve on nature anyway. True friends should help make us feel good about ourselves. And that would include each of us feeling beautiful and glamorous in our own right!

And each participant got an interesting set of pictures to save on display or in a scrapbook.

Praying for the Saints to Win

A group of good ladies from St. Cletus's Parish were having a post Super Bowl session for coffee and beignets, as it turns out.

To tell the truth, no one in the group was exactly enthusiastic about Super Bowl LI: the New England Patriots were universally regarded as cheaters, and Atlanta was always a city known for its questionable charms and manners. No, podners; they all would have preferred that the Saints won, just like in 2010!

But things did not look like things would move that way again soon; so they decided to pray for another Saints win in Super Bowl LII! (As if the Good Lord didn't have more important things to do!)

So Tina Moreau suggested that they all do a novena together and pray for the Saints.

This sounded like a good idea; but Madeline raised an important issue: when to hold this nine days of praying? After all, the Saints started out losing in 2016 and couldn't break the habit.

"Well.....we could hold it at the start of the season," opined Suzette.

But, judging from last year's performance, this called for a deeper effort. Maybe fasting from coffee would do it, suggested Missy Chauvin naively. The shudder around the table to her that this was a nonstarter. Some weakly proposed that a fasting from Ramos gin fizzes be substituted. Or doing a full-fledged fast three days a week. This is playing hardball!

Finally, Clotilde dropped the C-bomb. Oh yes, the proposal that some dreaded: taking a vow of celibacy from beginning of the football season until the Saints won the Super Bowl again! Surely this would be the means to plead the sincerity of the cause. Other people in the Café du Monde thought it was worth a try. And pray to St. Archie Manning for his intercession.

If that didn't work, then let's all have Breakfast at Brennan's and drink mimosas! Now that's how true Orleanians console themselves!

Or they could put a gris-gris on the Patriots and Steelers and Falcons, just in case!

When Is It Okay to Wear Yoga Pants?

Yoga pants are seductive - both for the beholder and the wearer. So naturally there is an inertia to wearing them in a variety of additional settings in addition to the gym. Besides, sillies, we know they enhance our butts so nicely! First . . . . why not wear them for the afternoon at home after the workout at the gym . . . . then wear them to the super market when you need something or other.

You know what I mean. Creeping yoga pantsism. Will ladies eventually wear them to church or to court? (A sudder of horror from one in the discussion due to this unbridled informality.)

So this was one of those little dilemmas the ladies of St. Cletus's Parish debated while having their biweekly coffee and beignets. The usual suspects were there: Missy Chauvin, Suzette Picou, Madeline Dupré, Clotilde Badeaux, Marie D'Aquin, and the habitual overcaffeinated crowd of idlers. Well, here's why the matter came up: Father Devereaux gave a sermon on Christian modesty and not being a near occasion for others' impure thoughts and the overscrupulous got to wondering. Hey, maybe the Big Dude looked on those cranberry or black or violet semisheer yoga pants with disapproval. 

To be sure, Madeline earlier had an idea about this; so she asked her boyfriend Officer Pete if her rear view caused any impure thoughts, naively assuming that Pete would tell the truth. He denied it.

Truth to tell, a wise man should never make his woman uncomfortable about what she wears, especially if she looks good wearing it. Don't look for trouble and sulking, he thought.

Well, the discussion went 'round like a dog chasing its tail, which makes a neat metaphor for this sort of moral discussion. Theologians have them too.

Finally, Suzette proposed that we put the matter up for a vote. After all, we had a recent gubernatorial election and had some practice in voting.

Clara asked, "Are we doing it with Plaquemines Parish rules?" Plaquemines Parish is a down-river Parish from Orleans and had been known for voting irregularities in †he past, often from out-of-Parish neer-well-to-dos coming down by steamboat to vote. Nowadays the concept extends to letting anyone vote who happens to be around.

Plaquemines Parish rules were agreed as okay.

Well, although there were six in the group, somehow the official vote tally came out 24-4 in favor of yoga pants not being sinful. Deciding morality by popular vote is cool; especially if you use Plaquemines Parish rules!

Are Women Who Wear Body Paint as a Swimsuit Naked or Clothed?

The latest Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue managed to be a topic for the weekly coffee and beignet session of some New Orleans ladies needing their caffeine and sucrose fix, not to mention a light discussion. Seeing that several of them were attendees at St. Cletus's Parish, the topic came soon to morality.

Specifically, some of the models depicted had 'swimsuits' that were wholly or partly body painted. The question were, are they naked or clothed? Another one was is it sinful to wear body paint instead of a swimsuit?  The discussion was in general terms; but there was a sense that some were willing to break ground with this new sartorial trend. Specifically, Madeline Dupré, Missy Chauvin, and Clotilde Badeaux seemed particularly supportive. Suzette Picou said she tried that at work; but got fewer tips.

Just then, a Catholic priest, Father Tim Devereaux, and a Baptist minister, Brother Bob Bates, came in for their daily caffeine jolt. Despite being of different denominations, they enjoyed their times together and often discussed sports, politics, or other topics that we won't go into!

The girls saw them, and waved them over. The clerics were pleased to have coffee with some pretty ladies. The coffee session was entirely convivial and not stressful, so the body paint questions were raised. 

Both clerics owned up to having seen the latest SI swimsuit; and both missed the hypothetical nudity that had appeared. As a matter of fact, Brother Bob Bates admitted never reading the captions! Father Devereaux comment that he must be getting old, as he missed that tantalizing detail but he would go back tonight and inspect the rectory's copy which he gotten earlier to find suitable sermon material in it.

Brother Bob, thinking this was easy, answered the questions first: "Well, in the usual circumstances, they are not naked because they are wearing concealment in the right places. I think that being covered with paint in those same places serves as well. Both are opaque, so they're not naked. But what do you think, Tim?"

Father Devereaux answered, "That's the way I see it too. They're clothed; they're not immodestly dressed."

"So, apparently immodesty is in the eyes of the beholder?" asked Clotilde. 

"Yes, Clotilde. If you're likely to be offended, don't go to South Beach or St. Tropez," said Brother Bob.

Tim Devereaux decided that there is something to situational ethics after all.

Madeline said, "Cool! I'll surprise Pete when we go to Pass Christian next weekend!"

Sleeping in the Nude

During their biweekly gathering over chicory coffee and beignets, one of the ladies brought up an interesting matter. Supposedly, sleeping in the nude gives a person a better night's sleep. Now this appeared in the Times Picyaune, so that word was as good as gospel!

The now-wide awake girls took a minute or two to digest that bit of news; and the floodgate of comments was opened.

Missy Chauvin opened with a little admission: she sometimes did that when she was behind on her washing. Some of the others were surprised by her remark; not by the admission of her sometimes sleeping nude; but by her admitting that she sometimes let the washing slip by. Hilda Walspurgis asked, not censoriously, "What? Do you not like red beans and rice?" She was alluding to the New Orleans custom of preparing red beans and rice on washday; and talk about many things goes down to talking about food. By the way, red beans and rice calls for beer or at least tea.

Marie D'Aquin worried about nekkid sleeping being an occasion for sin of some kind. She then wondered if we should send Madeline Dupré to ask Father Devereaux if it was. Madeline was horrified at the good padre learning that she slept naked; but said, "No, prolly not. If you feel it's sinful, it's because you're probably doing it sinfully." The group had to sort through that moral koan, and went on taking sips of coffee.

Well, Suzette Picou said, "I always slept in the nude; being a little cooler at night helps me sleep a little better. There's just one problem, though."

Madeline asked, "What's that?"

Suzette replied, "Well, you know I like to do my Tai Chi exercises outside when I first wake up. Well, I was doing mine the other day, and I forgot that I slept naked! The poh-lice didn't mind much, though. I support the Policemen's Union!"

So why should people sleep in the nude? Clotilde Badeaux quoted from a Cosmopolitan article that cited, among reasons, it helps you sleep better, it helps release those beneficial hormones as melatonin and growth hormone from being disrupted, it helps you enjoy snuggling better because you release more oxytocin, it results in you having more sex, and it helps air things out down there to keep bacteria and fungi at bay. Because of the absence of ten-foot poles, no one touched that last one.

Now the kitty cat was let out of the bag. Still, Tina Moreau remarked that she normally slept nekkid; but when she wanted to do it, she put on that translucent red and black nightie. Whoa, Nelly; too much information for some! At least they learned a little about her b.f.'s tastes!

Clara Thibodeaux was unusually quiet. But then she said, "When I want to be laid, I wear my Confederate Flag nightie."

"Three questions were asked; but the most important one was "Why?"

Clara said, "Because I want the South to rise again!"

Double entendres still are the lingua franca in New Orleans.

[I got this idea from Bilbo's post a few weeks ago.]

Is It Okay to Go Outside in Your Nightgown?

The annual meeting of the New Orleans Eccentrics' Union had the question-and-answer session, and there were the usual how-to questions that speakers had to field from those needing info on how to be all the eccentric they were meant to be. In this case, the question raised was in two delicate areas: morality and fashion. Now New Orleans as a medium-sized city has opinions galore; opinions to rival Rome on morality and San Francisco on fashion! So this question glided like a manhole cover towards The Monseigneur. the expendable cleric de jour who delivered the invocation.

The question, asked by Hortense Bordelon, was "Is it sinful or tacky to go outside to get the newspaper or water the lawn while you're still wearing a nightgown?

The Monseigneur hemmed and hawed, asked about the intention of the wearer, and how brief and revealing it happened to be. He also pled ignorance about what constitutes tackiness. But he quibbled and said that if the nightgown was transparent or short, it could constitute a near occasion of sin.

Fashion maven and local eccentric Maureen Glapion say that nightgown wearing should be kept to the boudoir; no au courant fashionista would dare appear even in the rec room (itself an unfashionable setting) in a nightgown, much less out-of-doors. She further averred that, in cases of dire need, the nightgown-wearer should at least wear a house coat!

Maven Maureen commented further that any appearance out of doors should always be preceded by putting on makeup as well. A proper fashion-conscious Orleanian should not risk being seen by the postman or the water meter reader without proper makeup and dressed seasonably appropriately. Meaning, don't go out in your bedroom slippers!

But Crazy Chester asked about guys' dress. Is it okay to go out in your boxer shorts, or should you wear pajamas? The thought of Crazy Chester wearing boxers stunned the audience briefly into silence. Would they be decorated in some pattern? Ms. Glapion recovered first, and answered "pajamas." The Monseigneur just looked amazed, as he was trying to digest these thoughts!

Madeline the Prophetess asked, "How about your L.S.U. nightshirt? Or is it okay to go out in your white guepiere to retrieve your Sunday Times-Picyaune if you are also wearing high heels?" The Monseigneur, not knowing what one is, said it was probably alright.

The next day, the Archbishop was reading his newspaper when he read the fashion page headline: "Monseigneur declares that it is fashionable and not sinful to wear a guepiere out of doors." The Archbishop groaned, and thought, "This sort of thing is a downside of priestly celibacy!"

A Discussion About Euphemisms

It's one of those reasons that obsessive-compulsiveness and prudishness provide an occasion for scrupulosity.  At least it occurred when the ladies were having cafe au lait and beignets at the Café du Monde.

It so happened that Madeline Dupré (the Prophetess), Clotilde Badeaux, Tina Moreau, Marie D'Aquin, Missy Chauvin, and Clara Thibodeaux were having a serious discussion on what to refer to certain natural processes that, you know, real ladies would not mention or mention only circumspectly.  Clearly, all aspired to that status, but were uncertain how to euphemism them away.

Tina: "Well, when I have to go, I say that I have to spend a penny."

Madeline: "But a pay toilet runs at least two bits, so technically that's an untruth," (using another euphemism).

Clotilde: "Can we say 'number one' or 'number two'?"

Marie: "Oh, too much detail.  What next: describing your number two exactly afterwards?"

Madeline: "Isn't it okay to simply say that you have to answer a call of nature?"

Tina: "Cherie, you get a call of nature every time Pete goes to second base with you!"

Madeline was speechless for a bit.

Marie:  "Well, instead of numbers one and two, my brother calls them 'wizzing' and 'dropping a deuce.'

The others noticeably winced.  But one of them speculated on how some former Supreme Court justice got his nickname.  

Missy:  "How about taking a tinkle?"

Marie:  "Maybe if you are also ringing bells."

Clotilde: "Well, how do you deal with referring to, you know, waxing?"

Madeline: "You don't."

Marie: "I say I have to get my legs shaved."

Clara: "But you're not shaving your legs."

Marie: "Well, I just say I'm getting a waxing."

Missy: "Yes, you would feel comfortable in making people think you're getting your floor waxed."

Marie: "Well, do that too."

Clotilde: "Well, you can keep it vague; and say that you need to get your hair styled."

Clara:  "Some say that they're getting the brush cleared for a landing strip or clear-cutting Mount Venus."

Everyone nodded with approval at these.

Missy: "Well, what's a polite way of saying that you want a boob job?"

Madeline: "That expression itself might be misleading to others, as people will think you want a job that even a stupid male could perform."

Clotilde: "The surgeons refer to it as breast enhancement surgery."

Clara: "That's a bit raw, you know."

Madeline: "Would referring to it as technical enhancement be okay?"

Tina: "I like it; it's vague.  And you can use that term to include anything from makeup to wearing a Wonderbra."

By now I hope you realize that the ladies were having a totally nonserious discussion.  The best kind, in these uptight days of 2015, you know.

But then things got weird.

Clotilde: "Hey, we need to take this matter up with Father Devereaux or the Monseigneur.  Now who do we send?"

Madeline: "I say that since we're all raising these moral and decorum questions, we should go to see him as a group."  Madeline was a prophetess, you know; and she knew they would appoint her to raise that question with the good padre.

Boston Pills

Madame Hébert was totally beyond herself. She was proud of her new white board fence, thinking it would complement her well-manicured garden and lawn; but some sign painter painted an advertisement on it. He didn't pin a handbill; no, he wrote in 6 inch tall green letters, one to a board, the sign 'B O S T O N   P I L L S.' Some less genteel but more direct people would say that she was pissed!

What was worse is that Boston Pills were a locally sold brand of laxative. 

She was so put out that she told the Prophetess Madeline and Crazy Chester about it. As members of the community, they offered to help.

Crazy Chester went, "Well, I can get a gallon of flat white paint and cover those letters. No problem; can do it in a jif!"

But Madeline had a different idea: just re-arrange the 1 X 6 boards. And all agreed on this unorthodox plan. So she and Chester took turns with a claw hammer and pried off the boards with the letters on them. First the 'P'; they put that where the 'B' had gone. They removed the second 'O' and substituted a blank board for it, and so on.

The end product: The fence read 'P O S T   N O   B I L L S.'  The green letters no longer advertised a laxative.  And as a bonus, no handbills!

Crazy Chester and The Prophetess Madeline Stage a Flash Mob

To protest peacefully is a bygone grace in America nowadays, as the unfortunate recent events of unruly mobs protesting civic or police misconduct.  This sort of thing troubled our pair of New Orleans equine actuaries, and they decided to set things right; but in a law-abiding way.  They decided to stage a march on City Hall; or maybe the Courts.

Madeline, the mystic of the two, came to the conclusion through prayer and her humor that both should be targets for their efforts. And that the best way to protest civic misconduct was through a mass prayer for good government!  Crazy Chester, the more down-to-Earth one, thought that this could call for organizing a flash mob that would spontaneously appear before those dens of iniquity and express their collective disappointment and call for them to change their wicked ways.  Since it's New Orleans, Chester thought it would get a wider response if the mob was in costume and accompanied with a jazz band.  All in the spirit of fun, of course.  Wearing Mardi Gras beads were optional.

So Chester called some people he knew.  As did Madeline.  They invited all to come in costume to a Funeral with Music* for Good Government, and to bring a an implement easily found in a hardware or grocery store that would best symbolize this desire to clean up things.  Nearly 700 people massed in front of City Hall!  This was unexpected; so they called out the police and wondered if they needed the State Police too.

On the day the flash mob assembled, it was led by the jazz band playing that old standby, "A Closer Walk With Thee"; and all were carrying toilet brushes!  Chester and Madeline could be off the wall at times, but the officers from the Third Precinct could not complain that this gathering was disorderly.  They even offered to clean the jakes at City Hall as well as the Augean Stable there!  Well, Madeline kissed her boyfriend Officer Pete; and Crazy Chester gave an honorary toilet brush to the Sergeant.  He later carried it when he patrolled Bourbon Street on Friday night.

In our country there is a problem of protest fatigue.  It's hard to make the national news when you protest something: too much competition and the same old routines.  But the toilet brushes put a welcome kick to a story that might have not gotten news coverage otherwise.

*A jazz funeral.

The Prophetess Weighs in on Celibate Clergy

It's a hard time for faithful Catholics, with all the bad news of misconduct of priests doing awful things with children, and it has cast a total pall of discontent and suspicion even among the fervent Catholics such as the ladies of St. Cletus's Altar Society in New Orleans.  Now it seems that our Prophetess, despite some  rough edges and an unpromising start, has managed despite her youthful status to become imbedded in the doings of her church in addition to her official street roles as a preacher, traiteur and occasional equine handicapper!  She's very much the modern gal: she can balance several roles with no trouble.  Nevertheless, she had been comfortable being in the background.  And, believe me, cher, the ladies of the Altar Society were glad for that!

Once they had a meeting, with the guest speaker being some big muckety-muck Monseigneur from the Archdiocese.  Now this is the way that the Catholic Church works, the Archbishop sends some minion with official status to mend fences, as needed.  It's as if the sight of an avuncular chubby man wearing a red trim on his clerical garb will cause the ladies to swoon!  Ah, but that was strictly old church.  The ladies of St. Cletus somehow missed the memorandum.

The discussion that the unsuspecting Monseigneur was asked to moderate was on clerical celibacy; and the official line is that it's a good thing, not to be changed because it makes priests special!  Anyway, it was originally touted as a discussion, but it had a planned agenda.  It was to go to a specific destination like the St. Charles Avenue streetcar does. 

But in the course of discussion, our girl felt the spirit move her . . . . She offered her perspective as a prophetess.  Oh, oh!  Storm warning!

"Ah, mes amis and Mister Monseigneur . . . . [Madeline drifts back and forth from French to English when excited.]  The problem with the loss of priestly vocations, and the pedophile priests . . . . this is part of a big picture.  The problem, I see it, is that we do not get many new priests of quality and many that we have become, er, cagou because they do not have proper wives to steer them!  And anyway, why not have women priests as well?  Or even a woman bishop?  It is the celibacy thing, that is the cause!  If the young priests would get the sex thing out of their system at an early age, and the priesthood made more attractive for normal guys, then they would come.  At least the ones that are okay with wearing priest's clothes!"

The alarmed Monseigneur was alarmed at this naked display of nonorthodox opinion.  Should he pull out a crucifix to ward off this possible heretic?  He tried to save things by falling back on the usual saws about adherence to sacred vows, but Madeline went on.  And some of the other ladies jumped in too, including those regarded by their beleagured priest as "safe."  A few might have even dreamed about being a Mrs. Priest!

Her priest shuddered and thought, "This is going to be a three Jamieson night, for sure.  Maybe I'll need four.  And I'll get a summons from the Archbishop tomorrow, if not later tonight!"

Madeline:  "It is true.  Men need wives and girlfriends to keep them sane.  Having a wife not only to sleep with from time to time but to interact with in solving the everyday tasks of a marriage will give a priest perspective.  Not just for the time they spend in bed -- but that is a sacrament also! -- but to keep him from going to seed.  How many single middle-aged men still keep up appearances?  Not many, I tell you de trooth!  And how can you give a woman marriage or birth control advice if you know zero about women?  Talk about the blind attempting to lead people who can sort of see their way."

Some members of the Altar Society had the uncharitable thoughts about the nature of Madeline the Prophetess's relationship with that nice policeman Officer Pete, but that could be a matter of Confession for them; or they could maybe put the priest on Madeline's case!  Still, they began to wonder privately whether Madeline might have some good ideas there.  After all, middle-aged priests can be so obstinate and know-it-all sometimes; they need someone to smooth the rough edges!

Also, they wanted Madeline to voice her views on birth control to the Archdiocese!

Father Devereaux Makes a Moral Judgment

It was Ash Wednesday, and Father Devereaux was distributing the ashes to his congregation at St. Cletus's Church when he noticed that a number of the female ash-seekers were still wearing Mardi Gras beads despite the onset of Lent.  Clearly, the spirit of Carnival was hard to relinquish by these fun-seeking New Orleanians.  There was Suzette the Stripper (no surprise), Missy Chauvin, Clotilde Badeaux, Chantal Fontenot, and even Madeline the Prophetess among many others.  Clearly, wearing of the beads became part of the local Ash Wednesday ritual in his parish as well as others.

Now Catholic clergy in other places would react with horror at this sign of the wearers not being very repentant, but Father Devereaux mainly dreaded the long lines at Confession on Saturday evening.  And they would mostly shamefacedly go to the Confessional boxes, rather than utilize the Sacrament of Reconciliation room!  Sad.  And he would hear them referred to as breasts, boobs, hooters, nénés, nichons, girls, and other terms that seem to spring up all the time.

Then he remembered his little sermon on scrupulosity, and decided that girls flashing their breasts for beads on Mardi Gras was not a really a sin.  Or if it was, it wasn't a biggie.  Anyway, it's okay to go topless on a French beach.  And the local police don't seem to regard it as wrong, so why fight Mardi Gras?

Not even if the flasher required a bra with D cups!

But how to reduce traffic?  Contrary to his usual mode, he actually asked the Prophetess!  Now this showed his desperation, as he was usually dubious about this seemingly harmless young crank with her spontaneous tendencies to preach and to predict the future.  Anyway, she was wearing beads so she could be the first non-sinner he put at ease.

Madeline's advice was succinct:  Put up a sign saying that it's not a sin!

So he did.  "For those whom it may concern: Flashing your breasts on Mardi Gras is not a sin!  No need to confess it.  If you still feel a little uneasy, then say three Hail Marys and make a small donation in the poor box."

Who says moral casuistry is limited to the Jesuits?  Sometimes the judgments of morality can come from bottom up as well as top down.

But most priests have already learned that with regard to birth control!  Anyway, its easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission when it comes to working with the Archdiocese!

The Well-Endowed Organist

St. Cletus Church had a well-endowed organist named Reneé.  Although she dressed properly on Sunday, her movements in playing the organ caused a distracting jiggle in them accompanied by an embarrassing nipple erection.  The men of the parish in particular found this attention-drawing.

The ladies of the Altar Society were appalled at this unseemly display.  They didn't know what to do, so they asked the Prophetess Madeline to intervene in her role as a traiteur.

When told, Reneé was mortified at this state of affairs.  Although she did always wear a bra, when the spirited moved her as she played the organ, she still showed.  Reneé did not want to undergo breast reduction surgery; feeling it was ungrateful to the LORD to do so and besides her boyfriend liked her that way.  The Prophetess agreed: whatever size boobs you got was part of God's cosmic plan.

So Madeline, the Prophetess, suggested an alternative approach: that Reneé try rubbing her breasts with green persimmon juice; that sour juice would cause them to pucker and they would become less noticeable.  She also told Reneé not to taste the green persimmons, as they would make her talk funny.

And it worked.  The next Sunday, her breasts minded their manners while she played the organ. 

But then, at the time it was to do the sermon, the priest said,  "Dew to thircumthanthis bewond my contwol, we will not have a sewmon today!"

The Morning Show Panel Discussion on Bras

In doing the local Morning Show, the producers thought that they found a topic that would draw surely big ratings for their program; and just in time for sweeps week!

Recently the results of an extensive 15-year study led by professor Jean-Denis Rouillon, affiliated with the University of Besançon in eastern France, made the news in that it apparently contradicted the usual beliefs about bras and back pain as being way off the mark: "bras are a false necessity.”

Missy, ever with her eyes on ratings and the possibility of moving up to a larger television market such as Atlanta or Dallas, enthusiastically went along with the topic.  Besides, she needed the money.  She quickly got the usual suspects of interesting people and idlers to serve on the panel, knowing that the admixture would give the interactions amount panelists some fireworks that would make for nice sound bits for promos: Al Gautreaux, her fellow newscaster, the Prophetess Madeline, Hilda Walspurgis, leader of Methodists for Purity Resurgence, the Lewd Dude, and Suzette, the Existential Stripper.

Missy started off with a quote by Professor Rouillin: "Medically, physiologically, anatomically – breasts gain no benefit from being denied gravity. On the contrary, they get saggier with a bra.”   Some members of the panel appared shocked, or at least feigned being so.  "However, this respected French scientist used a slide rule and caliper, and carefully measured the orientation of breasts belonging to hundreds of women aged between 18 and 35 in his local area.  Those who did not wear a bra actually experienced a 7 mm. lift in their nipples in relation to their shoulders." 

Al opened with "I wonders if Professor Jean-Denis was incredibly handsome, to be able to easily gain so many volunteers, or did he give his subjects a little thrill to put them in the mood!"  Missy made a moué, but was secretly glad that Good Old Al came across with the hoped-for sound bite.

Immediately, the dam of discussion broke into several speaking at once:

Suzette, the ecdysiast, commented that her filles did not sag because of her chest exercises and the fact that she never wore a bra.  She offered a closer proof, but Missy indicated that it was not a good idea, given the F.C.C. 

Madeline, the Prophetess, observed that "there was no direct Biblical passage instructing women to wear bras; but that she always wore one when attending church and because she found some cute ones without underwiring that gave her confidence."  In making her comments, she opened that possibility that she sometimes went sans a bra, but admitted that she was un peu shy.

Hilda opined that those women who did not wear bras were nothing more than tramps, and that proper-thinking women should not follow the lead of strippers or untrustworthy French researchers.  Suzette jumped up, ran over, and gave Hilda's hair a yank, but was quickly restrained by the cameraman.  Even the ordinarily serene Prophetess assumed an angry look!  It was beginning to get a little Jerry Springerish.

The Lewd Dude, who was placed on the panel to increase the possibility of the discussion being heated and big in sweeps week, made an intelligent contribution: "Wouldn't the size of a woman's breast make it important for some to wear bras?  After all, D- and DD-cup ta-tas have some weight to support."  Missy made a face at the slang expression.

Al Gautreaux wondered, "Would time of the year be a factor?"  This totally confused poor Madeline until she remembered the effects of an unfortunate and atypical cold snap resulted in too much being revealed.

Hilda promised that he organization would have large numbers of buttons stamped, "Proud to wear a bra."  The Lewd Dude asked in reply, "Could cross-dressers wear them too?"  Hilda, totally missing the irony, said "Yes."

Father Devereaux, back at St. Cletus's Church, cringed to see two members of his congregation engaged in this unseemly topic on local television.  Local television could descend into tackiness, sometimes.

The usually tame Morning Show drew numerous e-mails and telephone calls, mostly favorable regarding the topic and the participants.  An excerpt of it even got reported in one on the East Coast newspapers, albeit with a snide, superior tone adopted when they reported on the foibles of Louisiana.  Yeah, like Today or The View had a lot of real content!

The Prophetess Gets a Vexing Question

There was a young lady of Shanghai,
Who was so exceedingly shy,
That she undressed every night
Without any light
Because of the All-Seeing Eye.

-- Bertrand Russell

One day Madeline the Prophetess mentioned while preacting in Jackson Square that everyone had a guardian angel, who would always watch over each and every one of us.  A mischievious tourist asked, "Even while you're bathing?'

Immediately, poor Madeline got an image of herself cast in the role of Susanna, being peeped on by the Elders.*  She never thought of that possibility! OMG!

Not wishing to bother the priest of St. Cletus's, she tried to research the topic on the internet, but all she got was naughty pictures of peeping Tom angels.  This disturbed her greatly.  But, being the optimist she was, she reached a pair of possible conclusions:

1.  Her guardian angel, being a profoundly holy spirit, would avert his or her eyes whenever she started to undress.

2.  He or she would continue to look; but since he was a pure spirit, he would be untempted.  So, as to be entertaining while he hung around, she would do a playful strip before the bath.  Madeline had a mischievous side, it turned out.  Maybe hanging out with Officer Pete and Crazy Chester and living in New Orleans brought that out.

I already told you about my guardian angel Steve.  Once I asked him about this.  And, being unable to tell a lie, he admit that when I bathed, he looked for a while but eventually just spent his time watching Cops reruns.  Sometimes you get a little too much truth.

I wondered why I would periodically hear the "Bad Boys" theme by Inner Circle!

*When Mormon missionaries come to visit, and introduce themselves as Elder (Name), would it be too much to ask which one peeked on Susanna; and whether she was well-endowed or not?]

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Best wishes to Pope Francis I.  I hope he cleans up the mess in the Vatican.

In my family we refer to a chicken's butt as 'the Pope's nose.'  No disrespect intended.

Madeline the Prophetess Discusses Types of Guys

Well, it happened to be time for Mlle. Madeline, AKA The Prophetess, to discourse on different types of guys.  It's interesting that she did this, considering that she is totally chaste and seeming quite circumspect although strange in her lifestyle.  Nevertheless, she is recognized as locally as The Prophetess; consequently, the New Orleans television media calls on her on occasion for her observations while the priest at St. Cletus's Church cringes. 

It so happened that Missy Chauvin, our Action News reporter, while doing a daytime talk puff segment, invited Madeline to discuss what she saw was the different types of males.  This was done without any irony on either part.  Here is what transpired:

Missy Chauvin:  "Madeline, From your perspective, what kinds of guys are out there?"

Madeline:  "I'm so totally glad you asked, Missy.  Oui, there are different kinds of guys; c'est vrai!  Here is my take on them:

The Alpha Male -- This is the typical "take charge" guy; the one with lots of charisma.  He's attractive, charming, and a natural leader.  He exudes self-confidence, and is able to get others to go along by force of his personality.  Think of him as natural quarterback material.  Frankly ladies, he is out of your league unless you are the supermodel!  Attempts to seduce him are taken as hus just do."

Missy:  "Ah, Madeline, you are right!  They get taken by supermodels and corporate CEOs.  Some of them have egos to match and never call afterward . . . . "

Madeline:  "But there are others . . . .

The Beta Male -- The Beta Male lacks the self-confidence of the Alpha Male.  He is more passive and shows less initiative.  Beta Males ordinarily prefer to follow the lead of others, and go through life under the radar.  They make good sidekicks or wingmen.  They also make good husbands, if you keep them on the straight and narrow.  They usually will attend church with you, and dress appropriately.  Let them fish when they wish, and go to the races.  And, of course, attend Saints games.

The Gamma Male -- The Gamma Male is basically a non-conformist.  He marches to his own drummer and may tend to be artsy-fartsy.  If he is, then he is always entertaining but can be a prima donna!  If his metier is writing, then keep him away from the bourbon or Irish whiskey.  Many a creative guy got washed up on the shoals of alcohol abuse.  Make him go to church with you, and try to rein in his lapses in dress.  After all, we must be the civilizing influence!

The Delta Male -- This type of guy tries to act like an Alpha Male, but does not have the charisma, self-confidence, or generally recognized leadership.  Because of this, he may try to pass for a leader through bullying the weak selectively.  They can be the jerks, the canailles.  Les chie-en-lits!  If you detect Delta Male traits, stay away!  For true!  Some Delta Males can be wife-beaters.  Especially beware if they wear that kind of shirt: that's a tell-tale sign!"

Now Madeline turned to discuss the true losers:

"The Psi Male --  These guys, while  eccentric losers, are basically harmless.  They might have excessive interests in role-playing games, dress unusually, and are typically loners by choice.  The boys in Sixteen Candles who, while riding the school bus, wore athletic supporters on their heads is a real-life for instance of this type of guy while still young!  If you adopt this type of guy as a boyfriend, you must expect a lot of embarassment from his strange behavior!  Give him pity affection; it is the simple charitable thing to do!

The Omega Male -- These are the true losers, guys who lack basic social skills and drive.  They may neglect basic hygiene, affect rude or brusque manners, and exude a general air of creepiness.  Let's face it; these are the guys to avoid, even though you feel that you should give him the benefit of the doubt.  The Omega Male is often preceded by a reputation that might include petty crime, animal cruelty, or bizarre interests.  They should not be pushed or confronted, as they might lash out in violent ways.  [Some do have a store of guns and ammunition.]"

Missy: "So, Madeline, would you summarize by saying which type of the guy is best?"

Madeline:  "Oui!  The Beta Male, perhaps; but the Gamma Male is most amusant!  Deltas might be reformed with firmness; but it is a lost cause if they go to law school or into politics."

Missy:  "Merde!  I know some Omega Males.  The Honey Island Swamp Monster was cool by comparison."

An Alpha Male, receiving homage

Other sorts of males, plus a female in the group