Last night I dreamt about this photo. In my dream, these three were Cheshire Cats. They were all mad; I must have been mad for being an Anglican like them; it didn’t matter which way we went we still ended up in the same place with gay married bishops everywhere.

As Anglicanism faded gently away in the West all that was left were the grins looming ghoulishly on the horizon. Until suddenly, our new primate, due to replace Fred Hiltz later in 2019, leapt into the scene, a Red Queen yelling “Off with their heads” at the few remaining conservatives still lurking in the Anglican Church of Canada.

Then I woke up in a sweat.

`Cheshire Puss,’ Alice began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. `Come, it’s pleased so far,’ thought Alice, and she went on. `Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’
`That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’ said the Cat.
`I don’t much care where–‘ said Alice.
`Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,’ said the Cat.
`–so long as I get SOMEWHERE,’ Alice added as an explanation.
`Oh, you’re sure to do that,’ said the Cat, `if you only walk long enough.’”

“`But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked.
`Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: `we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’
`How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice.
`You must be,’ said the Cat, `or you wouldn’t have come here.’
Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on `And how do you know that you’re mad?’
`To begin with,’ said the Cat, `a dog’s not mad. You grant that?’
`I suppose so,’ said Alice.
`Well, then,’ the Cat went on, `you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.’”