No Fool Like an Old Preacher Fool

People in my line of work have, generally speaking, a bizarre fetish. No, not the Bakker/Swaggert one. Or the one the Pope tried to cover up. There is, however, a deep, entrenched, time-honored notion among many that if you can come up with a few pieces of information that in a very few weeks are going to be published openly in the church's version of Pravda, then you...what? Win something? Should be a detective? Are the smartest person in the room? What? (for starters, participants in the fetish should heed the words of Hall of Fame baseball writer Peter Gammons: "I don't care about being first; I just care about being right)
Those pieces of information are, and I kid you not, where the preachers will be assigned for the new year. I don't get that. In the first place, who has time to go around chasing this alleged treasure? In the second place, who cares? Because, as I mentioned above, in about six or seven weeks, it will all be very publicly published!
Usually this fetish is played out in coffee cliques spread around throughout the conference. Typically it is harmless, just shop-talk among people who don't know enough about anything else to carry on a normal conversation. Occasionally, it has become malicious. There are even stories that have circulated about people using their discoveries to sabotage colleagues, which is pretty sick, to state the obvious.
My course in life has generally left me out of these types of speculations. My assignments haven't been interesting enough to generate conversation. Hooray for me. One night recently, however, my daughter came in and said she had seen one of my retired colleagues. One we've known forever. One known to be a bloodhound-type loudmouth when on the track of some insignificant piece of SOON TO BE PUBLISHED INFORMATION. He slithered up to my daughter and asked, "Where's your dad going?"
She did great. She told him she had no idea. He pushed and prodded for a couple more sleazy attempts at the nugget of gold. She finally just told him we don't discuss such things. Which was wonderful, because there are never, ever any secrets of significance between my children and me. I was completely and totally proud of her for her dealing with that old fool.
Because that's what he is.
And if, sir, you should ever happen up on this, and you know who you are just as I do, that's what you are. Maybe, especially in retirement, your life is so devoid of meaning that you have to spend all your time chasing down this utterly useless information. Have a big time, you dope! But if, in the future, you want to know something about me, call me. What do I care? I'll tell you what you're breathless to know. Just spare my children any display of your fetish! Why in the name of the God you pretend to serve do you need to show young people just how petty and stupid the clergy can be? Why would you pull back the curtain to reveal the sorriest part of the church to someone who's already got plenty of reason to be suspicious of it?
To amend the wise old saying, There truly is no fool like an old preacher fool!