Yeah, Catholics will do that to you. I grew up on a farm and we sold our produce at a road side stand. One day the Monsignor from the parish, a Father Cahill, drove up in his brand new Old's '98 - a big car with all the options - while my father's old Plymouth was parked in the driveway. He went into the stand, which is where I worked when I wasn't doing other stuff, and selected a ton of fruits and vegetables. Said it was for all the priests and nuns back at the parish. So, I packaged it and told him how much it would be. He looked at me and began to lecture me how selfish I was to ask for money from a man of god and why didn't I think about how god would be pleased for such generosity. Well, I told him to wait and I called for my father to come to the stand from the fields where he was picking tomatoes. I told him the story and he went into the stand and wanted to know the problem. The priest repeated it and my father told him to get the phuck off his property and if he ever came back he'd call the cops. I never saw the bastard again.
