A Very Special Thanksgiving

Defeated to 98% .... Said HuffPo....

The Great Night (I did not close an eye at all, and went to work the day after full of coffee and enthusiasm) is now nine days old, and no day has gone by without me thinking of what could have been if the Lord had wanted it otherwise, and sending a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord above for the great, great grace given to us.

I still shiver, every day, thinking of what the world would have become if the Lesbian Bitch had managed to make it. And as the trends of the USA pretty often tend to cross the ocean after a while, what would have happened to us, old and tired Europeans abandoned to the mercy of the likes of Hitlery and Merkel.

But the Lord was good to us. He heard our cry, and saw our tears. He gave us more than a reprieve. He gave us a great chance at a counteroffensive of epical proportions, a huge cavalry charge like this young and stupid century has not seen yet.

For the last nine days, I have had a sensation of optimism bordering on euphoria, as I realise that the double whammy of Brexit and Trumpening could be a replay of the greatest double whammy I have seen in my life, the Thatcher and Reagan one.

God helps those who help themselves. This is a huge occasion. On no account must it be squandered. Similarly, this is no time for “across the aisle” and “let's get along” waffle: the Libtard would not have had any mercy for you in victory, you should not have any mercy for them in defeat.

As my US American readers prepare themselves for Thanksgiving, we should (US American or not) reflect on how much we have to thank the Lord in this 2016, the Year of The Trumpening.

M

 

The Caricature That Says It All

The Pope Who Won’t Meet His Cardinals

 

 

 

“I don’t talk to you!”

Oh, the irony! 

The Pope of “dialogue”, being opened to the “other”, talking to the “peripheries”, listening to the “Spirit”, will not talk to his own Cardinals, who come from all over the world to bring him exactly that openness, and that dialogue, and that voice of the peripheries, that he is always blabbering about. 

I doubt this is because the Cardinals care about personal hygiene and, therefore, do not smell of sheep in the accustomed Argentinian fashion. I rather think it’s because there would be a huge elephant in the room, called Dubia.  

The Cardinals could address Francis formally about it. They could give him some formal letter, or petition, or imploration, or even warning (I don’t believe this; but he might know something we don’t know). They might talk about it with him or among themselves. Even if no one dared to mention it, the embarrassment would be huge. It would be like being at the reception of, as they say in Italy, “the wife of the hanged man”. The elephant would still be there, and he would be pissing on Francis all the time! 

This being the situation, Francis must have decided that openness is only good if people are open to his heresies; that dialogue is only good when he is the only one talking; and that the peripheries are only good if they are his own stinking Argentinian slums full of clearly unrepentant trannies, prostitutes and homos available to his own priests’ dirty desires.

Remember when the Evil Clown failed to show up at the Beethoven concert? This is another stunt of that sort: if I don’t like to do this, I will simply avoid it. The childishness and selfishness is the same, but this time it is about more than an ignorant peasant bored by Beethoven.

Go on, Francis dear. Make an ass of yourself in front of everyone again. Show the world what a petty, ignorant boor you are. This could be getting mighty interesting in the next months. 

We are beginning to enjoy the show. 

M