Daily Archives: June 10, 2015
Bruce Meets A New “Friend”
This dialogue is pure fiction. No guarantee is given about its theological correctness. Take it with a pinch of salt.
“Where am I?”
“Unwelcome here, Bruce! Boy, you are ugly!”
“Who are you? Why is it so warm here? Where am I?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk! You talk too much already, Bruce, little fag! We don’t like whiners here. Actually, we don’t like the others, either. But those like you we truly dislike the most. Believe me, it takes some doing….”
“You are being sexist! No, homophobic! Translhftdrsegh-phobic! I am outraged! Who are you!? And I am not Bruce. That was a lie, a lying woman living in a man’s body! I am Caytlyn, or Caitlyn, or Cattlyn, I can’t even remember, it’s so hot! Why is it so hot? And who are you? Who the devil are you? Help! My mascara is melting!”
“You have answered your own question, disgusting little fag. There, take this little mirror as my personal disfavour. Check how ugly you are! (laughs)”.
“Aaaarrgghhh! What is this? My makeup is all but gone! My wig is gone! I need it! I need it to escape from the body in which I am trapped! I want it back! Aaaaahhhh!!!! (Stomps inordinately)”.
“Oh shut up, you little queen! Where do you think you are, in an American university? Get me angry, and I’ll be damned when I have you flogged all right, then barbecued like it’s the Fourth of July! I am here to give you the unwelcome. I always find these little moments very amusing”.
“You homophobic bastard! Who are you? I’ll have you indicted for hate crimes! You are trampling my human rights! And why it’s so warm!!”
“Warm? Now? Are you kidding me? This is just the antechamber, Bruce, my little faggot boy. That’s where you’re told that you are screwed forever! You are going to get introduced to Standard Temperature by degrees. Otherwise you’d burn to ashes in no time, and where would the fun be?”
“Screwed? Where? I’m all for that! But please, turn the heat down!”
“You are an ugly funny guy, you know that? You are so stupid you do not even realise I could only turn down the heat (a bit; more I am not allowed to) to displease you. You still haven’t got it, have you?”
“What I haven’t got? What? I will have you arrested! I will! I will!! Aaarrggghhhhh!” (Stomps his feet to the ground again. Burns himself in the process. Stops stomping).
“You have died, you ugly moron. You have died last night. Remember those medicines? Tsk, tsk! That was a mistake, my boy! And have I told you how repugnant you are? You pervs are disgusting even to us!”
“Died? How so? It cannot be! It cannot be! Life was shit, but I wanted it anyway!”
“Shut up, little perv, and feel where your fake breasts used to be. Any difference?”
“Aaarrgghhhh! My tits! My tits!!! I need them! They help me to feel free from my cruelly wrong body!”
“Cruel? Good, then! But no, you’re wrong. When we get delivery, we always get the original package. Sorry, no can do. The Enemy has disposed so.”
“The… What! It’s so warm, I can’t even think! And who.are.you??”
“Come on, Bruce. Whatever I tell you, will you believe me for the saying? Don’t you know I am the Father of Lies?”
“The…. The….. Aarrrggghhhhh’! ”
“You really are amusing, you know that? Your terrified eyes are most enjoyable. I always love this moment most; you know,the moment of realisation! By the by, can you do yourself another disfavour and feel between your legs? There might be a small surprise package there?”
(Feels with hand). “Aaaaarrgghhhh! What is this!!!! It had gone away!!!! I want it cut! I want it cut! All of it!” (Sobs hysterically…)
“You ugly perv, did you think you would be allowed to roast with fake tits and all, or without the little friend you so stupidly discarded? That was part of the Original Shipment, you see. The Enemy takes these things very seriously, I am, actually, pleased to say….”
“What will happen of me? Where is my LGBTSFTRS support group?”
“Oh, they are waiting for you all right, and there will be many more where they come from! You will meet old friends, but they will now all be enemies, you know… How we all hate each other here, my.”… (pauses; smiles bitterly) friend! You will meet new enemies as well. But hey, you queens hated each other in life too, so no big change there, right?” (Laughs).
“I don’t believe this! I must be dreaming!! I must wake up!”
“Bruce, my…. friend, if you just knew what pleasure it gives me to see you in such desperation! We don’t have much fun here, you know, and I am actually the only one who has some joy every now and then; albeit you were a very easy catch, one must say….”
Here the bus honked, and my imaginary dialogue almost ended with my nose firmly squashed on his side.
Dear and merciful Lord, please help me, wretched sinner as I am, to merit purgatory one day for me and those I love most. Because the thought of myself, or any of them, having such like a conversation is not funny at all, but is actually terrifying.
Medjugorje: Too Stupid Even For Francis
Via Rorate Caeli, an abc article reports Frankie stating the following:
“where are the visionaries who tell us today about ‘The letter that the Madonna will send tomorrow at 4 p.m.?'”
Of course this is a reference to Medjugorje. There are no other “visionaries” claiming to know when the next message from the Blessed Virgin will be given to them.
Not only is Medjugorje too stupid for words. It is too stupid even for Francis!
I also notice a helicopter can cover the 110 km between Sarajevo and Medjugorje in, say, less than half an hour. Like John Paul The Not-So-Great, Francis avoided the stop. This is also very telling.
Thirdly, Cardinal Mueller stopped an event in Modena, held every year by the not-so-pious nutcases, now that the old bishop who protected them is gone. That’s a third clue.
I remember Francis making an observation like the one reported above some time ago, and I might have written on the matter. Believing in the Medjugorje rubbish is one of the few mistakes the Evil Clown will not make. But this does not mean, by far, that he will do it right on this matter, then every little encouragement, or praise, or understanding, or half hint will be taken by them as an indication they can go on with their madness.
Medjugorje is a shame for the Church, and a mockery of Catholicism. It must be crushed to the ground, and made to stop.
Very Well Done, Mr President!
Poland’s new President is at Mass, his hands joint in prayer. He sees a Host fall on the ground. He immediately stands up, chases the Host pushed by the wind, catches it, stands up with it, brings it back to the priest.
Two short observations:
1. The immediate reaction of the man indicates, to my eyes, a man who believes in the Transubstantiation (how many still do? Atrocious question, I know, but: how many still do?). He doesn’t waste time in thinking what to do. A Host is on the ground. Time to act.
2. Why must these things happen?
This is another of those occasions when one reflects that the Mass is truly meant to be celebrated in a church, not en plain air. It can be that, by some mistake, a Host falls on the ground; but having to chase it in the wind is a different matter altogether.
How many masses outside of churches were there before V II? How many now?
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