You’re probably familar with Alberto Cutié. Also known as “Father Oprah” (probably on account of his constant struggles with his weight, his habit of giving free Pontiacs to parishioners, and his millionaire-making endorsements of lousy books), he got caught by Cuban spies a few weeks ago cavorting on the beach with his girlfriend, a divorcée.
Now, Priests aren’t supposed to have girlfriends, and also the Catholic Church doesn’t recognize divorce, which got Cutié doubly in trouble. Instead of waiting around for a nun to beat him senseless with a ruler, he instead joined the Episcopal church, where he delivered his first sermon this morning:
The former priest received a standing ovation and told several jokes, quipping at one point that “my stuff is in storage.”
Thanks to a favor I once did for the Archbishop of Canterbury, I got a sneak peek at Cutié’s joke-filled opening monologue:
Finally, Father Oprah has come back to Anglicanism. [pause for laughter] Now, I know what some of you are thinking: Father Oprah’s just here for the lonely, divorced women. And I’m not going to bear false witness [pause for laughter], some of your divorcees estan muy buenas! [pause for laughter]
But it’s also a huge relief not to have to believe in transsubstantiation anymore. I mean, I can believe that someone could turn crackers into toffee [pause for laughter] or wine into sangria. [pause for laughter] But turning them into the flesh and blood of Jesus? That’s kind of gross!
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against people wanting to get flesh and bodily fluids in their mouths … especially when the people are hot divorcees! [pause for laughter] And especially when the flesh and fluids are mine! [pause for laughter and hoots] But crackers can’t turn into flesh. Again, crackers can’t turn into flesh. So ladies, next time you want to get your mouth on some “divinity,” you talk to Father Oprah, because [points at crotch] ain’t no crackers down there! Am I right, gentlemen? [pause for "woof, woof, woof" noises from male parishioners]
Also, I’ve got to say, it’s somewhat of a relief not to have to take marching orders from the Pope anymore. He’s definitely a smart man, there’s no doubt about that, but all that goose-stepping was giving me muscle cramps! [pause for laughter] And how much bratwurst can one cardinal eat? [pause for laughter] I swear, every time there was a conclave in Rome, I was shitting pig intestines for a week! [pause for laughter] One of my flights back to Miami someone thought there were WMDs in the bathroom! [pause for laughter] Wurst-Mess Dookies! [long pause for sustained laughter]
Anyway, it’s great to be here. I look forward to years of productive relationships with your divorcees. [pause for laughter] I mean, with all of you. [pause for applause] God bless!