NOTE FROM UNDERGROUND
I don’t miss being forced to attend church, but I sometimes wonder if people who never went are aware of the macabre pageantry they might be missing out on. I was raised Roman Catholic until my parents gave up on my eternal soul, and I used to dread giving up Sunday morning cartoons for masses held in my elementary school gym – bad enough to make me go to church but it was literally school on a Sunday! For the bigger religious holidays, however, we’d pack up our Chrysler New Yorker to spend the weekend in Montreal with my wider family, and on those occasions, we’d attend mass in Italian at a fancy basilica. And lemme tell ya, Italian mass on Easter weekend was a trip. You see, even at a…