The Devil's Gift

Paula is my wife. So you might think I’m her “passion.” Well, I am. And she’s mine. But that’s not the passion of this post.

Today is the Fourth of July. It’s a day to celebrate the Declaration of Independence. I’d like to. But something won’t let me.

Hey, American Catholic bishops! Please don’t give Joe Biden the body and blood of Christ. He’s already got too much Jesus in him.

What would she say on her deathbed?

I once asked my 85-year-old mother if she had any regrets. Only one, she said.

It’s gay pride month. Lots of parades. I attended my first while visiting my twin granddaughters in Albuquerque.

I met a Brood X cicada who spoke English. She agreed to an interview with The Devil’s Gift.

I broke out for breakfast last week. I was double-vaxed and rarin’ to go. My double-vaxed friend was too. We were inmates released from prison—sentence served, doors flung open.

My first book, Let Love Arise, outsold the Bible.

In case you didn’t know (or hadn’t noticed), I am a master of divinity.