If people won’t go to confession, take confession to them. Just another random thought I had the other day. Philly’s Wing Bowl is a spectacle of slobbering slobs gnawing chicken knuckles while the cleavagely enhanced parade and manage the paper plates. Perhaps, some might say, just the sort of thing where at least a gent or two might, ahem, have an, ahem, impure thought or two, and perhaps even use a profane phrase or three. Not that I haven’t been known indulge in such “lapses” myself. Away, it might be the perfect place to park a van outside with Father Murphy inside, ready to hear and absolve. Actually, I’m imagining something more like a vertical booth on wheels … or a row of them. Modern approaches for modern times.