Francis And The Problem With Buddy Jesus

Since the dawn of Christianity, the fear of the Lord has been considered an extremely important component of our faith life. In fact, in many languages, having the fear of the Lord is considered synonymous with being a good Christian, which tells you how the one and the other were considered to be intertwined.

Fear of the Lord is, also, “the beginning of wisdom”. This means – and has meant for several thousand years now – that you can be as intelligent, accomplished and proficient as you want; but if you have no fear of the Lord you are, literally, a fool.

I add to this that I, and many others, do a lot of stuff merely because of fear of hell. I do not go to confession with a heart full of joy, hoping to be allowed to do it again as soon as may be. If there was no Sunday mass obligation, I would find with beautiful regularity that a headache, or general tiredness, or perhaps not having slept much, are actually valid reasons not to go. Do not get me started on the temptations that life throws at one. No. If I look at my motivation for the Catholic life I lead, the main one is: I don’t want to go to hell. Alas, not for me the “I was saved on x day” so dear to our Proddie friends. Not for me the “joy of Christ” who would allegedly make so happy those very people who appear very worldly, and often miserable, to me. When I think of my future, I am more likely to think of the Dies Irae than of the “joy of Christ”. Still, I think that I am in exceptionally good company in these 60 generations of Christianity.

It is, therefore, very strange to me when Frankie the Fat Faggoenabler says that fear is the greatest enemy of faith. How can that be? Isn’t the fear of eternal damnation the most relevant, the most definitive, the ultimate fear that there is? The man is very confused, and does not seem to have gone into many details. However, your humble correspondent, who has learned in this 11 years to discern the amount of excrement coming from that mouth, suspects that the message that Francis wants to either give or imply is exactly the contrary of what 60 generations of Christians have believed: that is, that exactly the fear of the Lord is the greatest enemy of your faith.

You are supposed, I seem to understand, to be assured with granitic certainty that, no matter what you do, Buddy Jesus, who loves you without any condition as if you were a golden retriever puppy, will certainly forgive you – nay, has already forgiven you! – and you don’t even need to ask for forgiveness, because doing so would bespeak – you guessed it – fear. If you fear, you will sink like Peter. If you are presumptions, everything will be fine!

As you have already understood, Satan does not ask for anything better than a soul believing it is saved, there is no need to do anything along the lines of repentance, forgiveness or penance, and life will be a long series of fun days with the “joy of Christ” until the day an even better fun begins. Such a soul will, very likely, die in mortal sin, after having sinned of presumption in its very bones.

Thanks but no thanks, Frankie boy. You can have your enmity of fear, and your buddy Jesus, and see whereto they lead you.

I, for myself, will keep my fear of the Lord, my contritions and confessions, and my prayers and penances.

I will have less fun, but I will have the beginning of wisdom.

Don’t Cry For Father Held

Not really needed

I have a very uneasy feeling about what is happening in Michigan, where a priest resigned after parishioners’ protests, which again followed father’s statement that being homo is a no-no, which again followed the same father inviting the same homo to read a children book to children, or such like thing, because some things never change.

Father Held was gravely at fault for inviting the little fag. There is simply no excuse. I don’t even care if the invitation has been proposed or sent out by someone else. He is responsible, the Buck stops at him.

When the error was discovered, Father Held gave a rather clear, and not even thundering, explanation of the obvious, and all hell broke loose. The fag gave an interview to a queer “ministry” site, the faggotry organised itself, the protests started. The local parishioners did little to nothing to protect Father, probably because they don’t like him in the first place. Reflect, on this, that the first outcry came from Catholic parishioners, not the fake catholic ones. If my priest invited a homo to read to children, be assured I would not be on the barricades for him, though I would certainly react to the homo protests.

What does, then, Father Held do? He resigns. This is his second grave, unenforced error.

Now seeing this from the outside, what do I notice? I notice that inviting a homo to read to children is a typical faggot behaviour, and resigning one’s position because the homos are all in a flutter is another typical faggot behaviour. Is, then, Father Held a homosexual? Perhaps, perhaps not. But of one thing there can be no doubt: his unmanly behaviour is unworthy of a priest. In fact, it is so weak, that you will forgive me for thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, some sort of Kompromat was unearthed about him. Again, a real priest endowed with real genitals (which, remember, is a required physical characteristic of a priest) would have behaved in exactly the opposite way as this one.

I can assure you that I have been under massive, massive pressure in my life, in various situations, and I have never moved an inch, much less apologised, much less resigned. I can, therefore, say to you with a serene conscience that a hypothetical Father Mundabor would 1. Never have invited the pervoreader, 2. Have preached a rather assertive form of Catholicism from the pulpit, 3. Never, ever, have resigned following any faggoprotest, and 4. have doubled down on Catholicism in a situation of faggoprotest, come what may. This, because Father Mundabor would know that being a priest means being able to endure all sorts of persecution, up to and including torture and death, which makes the protest of some group of faggoenablers with the rainbow flag near their name look like a walk in the park on a sunny Saturday morning.

I really, really don’t like this sort of whiny quitters, as Father Held (whom I already consider suspicious because of the first, unenforced mistake) has certainly proved to be. I expect far, far more from a priest. In fact, Father Held’s easy quitting tells me how weak his homilies must have been. Again, I can tell you that in Father Mundabor’s parish there would be no scarcity of parishioners vocally and strongly defending him, because Father Mundabor would have fostered a healthy Catholic thinking in his parish.

A priest must be ready to die at one’s moment notice, more so than the garden variety parishioner. He has given his life to Christ. He can’t invite homos around and then quit with some lame excuse at the first sign of trouble.

Whatever he his, Father Held is not a real man.

I will not cry for him.

Laymen And Priests

Not sure if Ravasi was there. But he could have been…

Cardinal Ravasi, who at 81 will, blessedly, not allowed to do damage at the next conclave, is on record with saying that Christ was “a layman”.

It really is quite disconcerting with these idiots. I do not think this is age playing tricks with the man’s mind. In fact, Ravasi seems to be still quite active, goes around here and there, participates in round table discussions (as in this case), tweets around when drug addicts singers die and, in general, does everything he can to show the world that he belongs to it.

What I think has happened here is that Ravasi has lost the faith decades ago, if he ever had it in the first place. At that point, he has become a sort of functionary, going here and there, reading speeches written for him by other people and, in fact, spewing platitudes for a captive audience of journalists and assorted boot lickers.

When that happened, clearly the Cardinal has considered it superfluous to have any contact whatever with theology, or to refresh his mind with books dealing with the Catholic faith. You don’t go around, as a Cardinal, saying bull crap like that unless you have stopped dealing with your faith decades ago. But I am sure the Cardinal has said stuff like “the joy of Christ” thousands of times in these decades.

No, Christ was not a layman.

However, Cardinal Ravasi should be made to go back being one.

The Ass And The Saint

Not the saint.

You will say I am easily angered by Francis. I will reply that it is more so, that Francis is extremely angering. One of the traits of the man I can stand the least is his taking the right people and abusing them to propagate the wrong message.

The last example is Saint Pius X.

Even my red fish knows that Francis is all that the Saint abhorred, both as a man and as a religious. It is likely that the great Pope could not even conceive a pope of such evil as Frankie. Still, he hated the likes of him strongly enough, with that righteous anger proper of the Saints.

Francis, instead, who clearly hates the man with a passion, wants to anger us with praise lavished to the man. How does he do it? Of course, by abusing him to propagate the wrong message.

Pius was, he says, close to “suffering humanity”, as if the other Popes before or after him weren’t. He was, also, against war. You don’t say, Sherlock?

What made Pius X the great Pope, and the great Saint, Francis completely ignores. What is an obvious trait of every good man, he tries to manipulate into another social justice and pacifist abuse.

I doubt the saints in paradise ever get angry.

But I suspect the great Pope is taking notice anyway.

Pray for us, Saint Pope Pius the X.

Intercede for us so that this most unworthy successor of yours may soon get his reward.

Faggots Spreading Heresies

Please die soon.

Slavery has accompanied the history of Christianity. The TLM reading for last Sunday was historically addressed to slaves, though its application is universal. Christianity expanded rapidly among slaves, but not because Christianity is militantly abolitionist. We always saw Christianity advocating instead for a world that goes beyond slavery and is in a position to do without. As late as Mid-Nineteen Century, we see the future Confederate States as being much admired by none other than Pope Pius IX, who is, let us not forget, a Blessed of the Church, beatified in non-suspicious times.

Slavery is not a matter of doctrine, it is a matter of discipline. This is why different Popes can have different opinions about it, and…. discipline it in different ways.

Sexual perversion is a matter of doctrine. There can be no two Popes saying one that it is acceptable, and one that it isn’t. This has numerous ramifications concerning the way we avoid scandals, select the clergy, etc.

This is why Tucho does not understand anything of anything or, if he does, pretends not to, and please don’t get me started about other pearls of worldly idiocy, like bragging about the clicks for a document that every faggot on the planet will click 200 times, or even mentioning the “statistics” about the “demographics” which like his own faggoting excrementations.

In Sodom, Tucho’s document would get almost 100% approval on all demographics, and they would all want to read what the guy says.

You spread perversion and heresy from the Vatican, of course it makes the news, you fumb duck.

But this is where we are today, with this little tool in red trying to fool Catholics.

Like his little master (Frankie) and his big master (Satan), he is meant on deceiving; but like both the others, he can’t deceive those who care for truth.

Infinite Shamelessness

Infinite faggotry

I have tried to read the newest excrementation, or declaration, or whatever document it is, about the alleged infinite dignity of the human person. They quote the United Nation at the very start. I have stopped reading there, as I am not a follower of the United Nations religion.

Still, already from a general perspective, it is quite evident what this infinite here and infinite there aims at: the divinisation of the human being.

It is not Christian (much less Catholic) tradition to say that a person has “infinite dignity”. Why? Because it hasn’t.

A person can lose his right to live through his culpable action, and therefore be sent to the scaffold. A person can be part of an army fighting against ours in a just war, and therefore get a bullet in his head. A person can be found guilty of conduct unbecoming to a clergyman, and therefore be smashed on the street. A person can be guilty of depraved behaviour, and therefore (again) executed (the treatment yours truly would inflict to, say, child rapists) or jailed (the treatment yours truly would reserve to scandalous sodomites).

When the person is seen as the carrier of something “infinite” qua person, this person becomes, in a way, untouchable, and I wonder how such a person can, with this reasoning, be condemned to hell if, qua person, he is the bearer of such glory.

I have, as stated, not read, nor will I read, the excrementation. I don’t know what Kissing Faggot and Fat Faggot have tried to smuggle with the excuse of all this infinite stuff. However, already this “infinite” adjective does not pass the smell test.

With the V II church, and more so with the acute manifestation of the disease, the frankiechurch, we see this constant levelling of every traditional religious concept to the prejudices and feel-good feelings of the world out there, which makes the initial mention of the United Station not casual, but programmatic.

Infinite dignity, my foot.

In Catholic times, death on the stake awaited those who played with the truths of the Church. Believe it or not, this treatment was perfectly in line with the infinite nature of the soul possessed by the condemned heretic and making, ipso facto, the carrier of that soul worthy of the punishment.

As to the person, he was burned to a crisp.

Amazingly, Catholicism in those times did not consist in stupid regurgitation of worldly prejudices and fashions.

Fat Francis Forgets His Job

“Ministry”, I suppose…

I have written very recently about the enormous size of the Evil Clown, and the fact that he might soon have to be hauled with a truck to allow him to get anywhere.

This is, in itself, sad enough, though I hoped it kept him from his Maundy Thursday antics. It appears it will. So far, so… fat.

However, I was actually informed only today that the guy has not celebrated one single mass for months now. Not one. Zippo. Nothing. Nada.

Well, this is a huge whisky tango whatever moment here. I had read, and commented, about the fact that Francis says he is doing fine and (I can now quote from the same linked article) “has no physical problem serious enough to impede his ministry”.

Really? This guy can’t celebrate Mass, and he does not consider this an impediment to his ministry? Who does he think he is, Fat Friggin’ Fidel Castro?

Last time I looked, there was nothing more important for a priest than the offering of the sacrifice of the Mass. I am pretty sure every priest who has not completely lost sight of what he does – even among Vatican II, Novus Ordo priests – will tell you that the very foundation of what he does is the celebration of the Mass.

Priests are not required to attend ecumenical meetings every day. They are not required to take part to interconfessional round tables every day. They are not required to have tea with the members of parish committees every day. But they are required to celebrate mass every day. The offering of the Sacrifice of the Mass constitutes the very core of what a priest is. This guy can give this up altogether and consider it fully irrelevant to his “ministry”.

I don’t know if this is simply the result of Fat Francis considering the Mass so little that he just forgets to account for it when speaking of his health, or just desiring to anger Catholics by wilfully making them notice what little consideration he has for the Sacrifice of the Mass. I don’t even know what would be worse, as in both cases the arrogance is breathtaking. But then both hypotheses are fully in line with Francis’ character and disposition.

Fat Francis.

Boggling the mind to the very end.

Jabba The Hutt Needs A Unimog

Popemobile, 2024 edition.

I don’t know if you have noticed, but Francis’ photographs appear to be carefully selected to make him appear in a more favourable – let’s say, less unfavourable – light. The man is often photographed from sufficiently close that only his face and part of his chest appear, and pretty much from the front. Pictures taken of his full figure, or from his face, from the side are more rare and seem to be the kind of communication the Vatican cannot control (too many public appearances, cameras, and freelance journalists).

If you were to observe a recent picture of Francis from the side – both face and full figure – the resemblance of the Gloriously Reigning Cretin with Jabba The Hutt would become strikingly, disquietingly apparent.

Just like Jabba The Hutt, Francis has become a non-walking example of gluttony. His circumference is almost the size of Greenland by now, and his face and cheeks slide down forever, flowing seamlessly into an enormous neck, in a glorious cascade of multiple layers of fat that must make said Jabba envious. His transformation in the last twelve years has been striking. It’s as if two evil clowns were now to be had for the price of one.

This is the guy that complains all the time about the greed of Western capitalism, and has eaten himself almost to the grave. A non-walking, much-talking example of hypocrisy everybody with eyes to see notices, and he either doesn’t, or does but not care.

Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday again; sadly, the twelfth exercise of the sort performed by Jabba, sorry, Francis. I will, as I have done in the last years, try to avoid seeing pictures of Jabba by the exercise, and actually try to ignore the entire exercise in the first place.

This year, though, it might be interesting to see whether some specialised truck is used to bring the guy in the required position to wash the feet of some homosexual, or trannie inmate. I doubt fork lifts will be sufficient. I think you need a compact but very powerful truck, able to go all-terrain to climb church stairs, and robust enough to carry a crane. I think a Unimog 406 will do admirably.

Meanwhile, Francis keeps provoking us all, showing his virtual middle finger to all Catholics, and certainly intentioned to do so to his last breath.

But this time I dare to hope that, whatever happens next year, at least we will not have Jabba The Hutt around.

“Used To Being Hated”, Or: The “Guy” Who Is Never Asked.

Faggots

Dear readers,

As Palm Sunday approaches, I invite you to spare a thought for a poor, poor “man”, or perhaps I should say “person”.

He is – or so he thinks; and he might not think that, either – so good and inclusive, but these pesky Catholics with all their ideas about Christ and His Commandments do not want to leave him alone. He is, by now, used to being hated, and when I read the sad news the disgust for the man tried really, really hard to give way to something like 2/100 of a second of empathy.

Alas, I am very straight. Therefore, it is literally impossible for me to empathise with such a one. In fact, the disgust I feel does not get weaker with the years, because to the natural disgust for sexual perversion (something many atheists also have) a terror of Christ’s punishment, and an ever growing awareness of the offence to God such depraved acts constitute, becomes more and more present.

I will, therefore, humbly ask my readers to forgive this utter lack of fake chariteee on my part; which, as I am almost joyfully aware, makes me unfit for the company of the emotional bleeding hearts with more or less openly confessed skeletons in their, well, closet. They are the crowd for this guy. They will, no doubt, have a great chance of keeping being in solidarity to him after he has died. Imagine that: the no h8 crowd, all together, in that huge, eternal barbecue party of which they will be, at the same time, participants and components! Oh, how hot will the fire of their inclusiveness burn within themselves, all the time, for eternity!

By the by: Guy is sixty something, and he said he worked at General Electric for a while. So let’s say he was born in 1961 and worked until, say, 1986? Surely, there must be a lot of people around who can give us clues about the “lifestyle” of this “yuppie”? Because see, some of you might forgive me for thinking that the guy discovered, after some years in the closet, that there would be way more opportunity to (cough), follow the desires of his heart (or whatever other organ you wish to name) in the seminary and, then, with a priestly habit.

Am I wrong in thinking this a concrete possibility! Why is this guy never asked whether he is straight or not?

Never? Ever?

Ah well, this must be bad, bad me again, thinking that if it quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, and swims like a duck it most likely is a duck. Really, I might be asking too much of your power or forgiveness.

Or perhaps you are now fuming with rage, as I do.

Divine Mockery, Or: Fat Asses, Grand Pianos, And Our Good, Caring God.

This will be on Francis’ death certificate…

As we all know, “do not judge” Pope Clown The Fat Tool of Satan likes judging a lot. He likes, particularly, judging others as judgmental, when he is, with great probability, one of the pettiest, most judgmental (in the wrong way) cowardly, poisonous, wayward clergymen that ever lived.

It is also well known that the same guy has been warned by doctors that he needs to eat less, and that his sciatica and mobility problems come from his inability to keep his insatiable piehole at bay.

Well, what do you know: “do not judge”, judgmental little fatso was unable to get on the popemobile and has to be put on it with artificial means. I can imagine the scene, with the big hippo trying to help himself, the people around him trying to help him, but failing because of the sheer mass of the ungulate, and the guy finally having to be hauled on the car like a sort of satanical grand piano. If they have used a lift for the wheelchair I hope they did not skimp on its quality. I suggest industrial strength.

Imagine that: the guy who has made an extremely stupid sermon on gluttony some time ago, obviously accusing us of his Marxist version of it (you know, the “this is that” little spiel Marxists love to play), is the same guy who keeps slowly killing himself out of sheer… gluttony.

Oh, the irony! It is as if an extremely funny God was having a great time showing to those faithful to Him the barely believable, but very funny hypocrisy and stupidity of this man in their minutest details.

It is as if a good, caring God would, through that fat ass, invite you to relax, pray your Rosary with more fervour today, do not fall into the trap of thinking that a horrible Pope is an existential problem for the Church (or a challenge for the Catholic faith), and go on with your life, smiling at that fat cretin, and knowing that, try as he may, Francis will never manage to damage or dilute the greatest gift that God has given you: the beautiful, luminous, glorious Catholic faith.

We do not know what challenges lie before us. We might have a Francis II that is, if this is possible, even worse – perhaps in more subtle ways, which would be most pernicious – than Frankie The Freaking Fatso.

But what we know is this: the way to, with God’s grace, pave the way for our salvation will always be open to us, because God desires our salvation and asks us to collaborate with His grace to, one day, merit it.

Francis has no role to play in this. He will never sway a God-fearing Catholic.

He will just become an object of delicious Divine Mockery.

“Demos II” Made My Day

I have read the “Demos II” paper, and I must say I feel more optimistic now for the near future of Catholicism than I have been in a while.

Mind, I am not saying that the college of Cardinals isn’t well -equipped with tepid Catholics, or scoundrels, or perverts. What I am saying is that God works in mysterious ways, and can change the mind of any group of Cardinals, or even of a Pope, at His will.

What “Demos II” told me is that pressure to make a reasonably orthodox choice when the time comes is accumulating already now. People who are – let us not forget this – too cowardly to react to Francis when he is alive, might be inspired to get decisively angry, and to motivate others, when Francis is dead. We don’t know what kind of fears God can inspire in, say, homosexual Cardinals fearing that Francis II might cause a huge backlash, thus accepting to vote for a Catholic guy. The situation is simply so, that only God can make things improve, but He can do it anytime, and in any measure he chooses.

But “Demos II” made my day for a different reason, too. It is the kind of document that will give Francis a fit of hysterical rage, openly denouncing – if with polite words – his arrogance and incompetence, and his being a Catholicism-free space. The document can be summarised with “the next Pope has to be a Catholic”. Nuff said.

I can imagine the guy, who is in the hospital again, fuming about people already discussing his succession, openly, knowing it angers him; and criticising him just as openly, knowing it enrages him. Can’t say I don’t like the mental picture.

The situation is so far advanced, that improvement can only come by Divine intervention.

One can hope and pray that, today, we saw one of the ways it will happen.

Sleep well, Frankie boy.

And may you not wake up at all.

Confession Hunting

Whilst I was reading the very sad considerations here I was, once again, reflecting on my own experiences with some of the (older) Novus Ordo priests.

There was the guy who said, in my face, “we don’t do these things nowadays”, hoping I would go away without encumbering him with this pesky thing, the Sacrament of Confession. I think he was stuck in 1969. I had to – hear this – insist before the guy caved in, not without a resigned rotation of eyes, and graciously consented to hear my confession.

No, father. I will not let you out so easily. I will make you do your job, because you are a priest.

Then there was the guy who treated my sins as irrelevancies, which – I assure you – they weren’t, and left me with this strange feeling that either the guy has to listen to very bad filth every day in the confessional, or has very bad filth permanently living in his own dirty mind, and is scared of people who are, well, of cleaner – if still sinful – thoughts and habit. I assure you I do not suffer of scruples. I found the experience, well, creepy. This guy was very old, too. Boy, the seminaries of the Sixties must have been quite the experience.

But the ones who really grate me are the ones who are just not there. As in: outside of the church it says “confessions at such and such a time”, and you go at that time and find nobody in the confessional. Hey, if they just abandon the post people will just go away, right?

Well, not me. I head for the sacristy, knock at closed doors until someone opens, and then mention confession. It happened a couple of times already. You literally have to go and drag them out. Both priests were (again!!) older guys. I shudder at thinking what had happened to their faith.

A softer variant of this is that airy statement, “confession on request”. This sounds good, and is bad. Always available in theory means never available in practice.

Listen here, Father Lazy: I do not want to have to feel that I am distracting you from the care of souls. I do not want to have to phone (if that’s even a thing) to agree a time for my confession. I do not want to go all the way to the church and be told “father is unwell/out/otherwise engaged, but try again so we’ll tell you why he is otherwise engaged next time”. I should not have to feel like my desire for a sacrament so important for my eternal salvation is an imposition, or a lottery.

Be available at such and such a (reasonable) time, and we faithful will make it work. Heck, what do they all do all Saturday morning? And why, instead of doing whatever it is that they are doing, are they not doing something more important, like hearing confessions?

Great saints like Padre Pio and the Cure of Ars were untiring confessors. I am not asking ten hours a day, but one hour on a Saturday morning and more possibilities at lunch time if a church is in an office neighbourhood seem the bare minimum to me.

But then again, do these people really believe in the sacrament of confession? If they did, you can bet your last shirt they find the time to be in the confessional. They will not rotate their eyes like that old guy years ago, but I think many think just the same.

Don’t get me wrong. I see many a good priest here in England, and my hunch is that the younger ones tend to be clearly better than the older ones. But the reality on the ground is that, too often, one has to do extra stuff, like dragging the priest out of the sacristy, in order to have his confession heard.

At times I felt like you don’t go to confession. You hunt one.

But hey, I am sure Father Lazy has a lot to do with useless committees, ecumenical this and inter-religious that.

How I wish Father Lazy had the faith instead.

You’ll Eat Little And Be Happy: Enormous, Gluttonous Francis Wants To Ration Your Food.

“Bleat for me, you idiots!”.

I need to go back on the blog past I wrote only hours ago about Francis’ rant about the food you eat.

It turns out the link I posted this morning does not have the, erm, juiciest bit. That one is, however, in the full text, which the link posted this morning wisely neglected to mention.

If your food were rationed, there would be enough food to feed the hungry. This astonishingly cretinous idea can be read in the link posted above.

No, Francis cannot be so stupid. I mean, he is stoopid, but not that much. My eating less lettuce will not make the lettuce reach Niger, and we have already established that in the West there is no hunger already.

No, Francis’ diabolic plan is a different one. It is the purely Davos-like idea that everything you do, have, even eat needs to be subject to the diktats of your masters, who will decide everything for you with your supine acquiescence or, preferably, enthusiastic approval.

Then we will call this monstrous planetary dictatorship and enslavement “progress”, “solidarity”, or even “saving the planet” one way or the other. The sheep will, as always, obligingly bleat. The others will be declared enemies of humanity and, of course, “haters”.

Meanwhile, fatso is so broad and heavy that he is literally killing himself.

But hey, the rules don’t apply to him. Even if he is one of those who would certainly profit from some good old, well, rationing.

Hunger And (Very Fat) Francis

Was just told he needs to eat less…

Frankie The Faggoenabling Clown has started Lent with his usual protocommunist rantabout the evil, rich West and the poor, exploited South where so many suffer from hunger. I feel I need to say two words about this, because y’all aren’t six years olds anymore.

Let us talk first about hunger at home. Where I live it is well-known that half the food donated to food banks or various origin goes to waste every day. Why? Because there aren’t enough mouths to eat it all. Mind, this is not waste. It is not a bug, it’s a feature. If a sandwich chain promises you that their sandwich will always be prepared on the day, it follows that a lot of sandwiches will be donated at the end of the day. This is a win-win, the customer pays for the extra cost of the freshness and the beggar, drug-addict or alcoholic gets an extremely fresh, tasty sandwich for free. Therefore, all is good in the rich, sated West. If only people did not keep killing themselves with the donuts! At this point, I really hope that Fidel does not advocate the sending of all that lettuce to Burkina Faso. It would be bad for the p-p-planet, you know…

But let us move to poor, poor A-freee-ka.

Francis is ignorant, disingenuous or utterly mendacious when he makes the West somehow responsible for the eating of the natives. I hate to break it to you, but the responsibility of feeding themselves resides squarely by the natives themselves.

Now, if you are of a sensible age, and go around informing yourselves, you will now two important things about A-free-ka. The first is that obesity is on the rise pretty much everywhere. The second is that the first cause of poverty is not “hunger”, it is corruption. Hunger, where it’s there (it’s very rare now) it’s the result of extreme corruption. Oh, how would I wish that Pope Fidel the Faggoenabler would, just every now and then, make these simple realities of life clear, instead of always blaming Westerners for problems that are nothing to do with them!

But then I reflect that, if the man did this, he would show something remarkably absent from his entire life: intellectual honesty.

No. I realise it’s too much to ask.

We will have to live with Fidel The Faggoenabler until the Lord calls him to his terrible judgment.

Exclusion

“The Gospel is not the Gospel!”

Everybody who reflects with any degree of intelligence about the Gospel will immediately – nay: instinctively – know that the Gospel is all about exclusion. Exclusion, mind, that is not willed by God, but merely allowed by him. We will, of course, never be able to fully penetrate the mystery of iniquity in our lifetime, but – as in all mysteries – we can confusedly see the logic of it. For example, we know that God respects the free will of those to whom he allows to lose themselves. We also see His justice shining exactly through the exclusion of the reprobates. We are all sinners, yes. But those who rebel to Christ and refuse to submit to His commandments will be, exactly, excluded.

This concept of exclusion is everywhere. Every child learns it when he learns the commandments, and every adult is reminded of it when he hears one of the many, many warnings of Our Lord about hell.

The entire existence of the Catholic Church is based about this exclusion. Extra ecclesiam nulla salus was called an inclusive motto by exactly nobody, ever. Without the fundamental distinction between the elect and the reprobates there would be no Church, or a pope, or even a spiritual life.

Confutatis maledictis

flammis acribus addictis

voca me cum benedictis

I could go on until tomorrow, touching on everybody from St Paul to countless saints, but you get the drift.

This is why it is so extremely infuriating to read this absolute ass, this unbelievably evil cretin, blathering about exclusion (of every sort, from excluding Protestant from the Church to excluding sinners in mortal sins from communion) not being in the Gospel. Had he not been completely blinded by Satan, he would know that his fantasy-gospel never existed, could never exist, and it is nothing else than a man-made, feel-good ideology of inclusion.

This man hates Christ and His Church. He hates all they are and all they represent. He hates everybody who belong to the very Church he is supposed to lead.

This, he does at the ripe age of 87, his gluttony – and who knows what else – now causing him to speedily proceed towards an utterly horrifying grave.

It really is quite a spectacle to see. It’s a show about Christ’s justice (and exclusion) playing in front of our eyes every day.

Let’s pray we never become like this one. Our probability of being, by God’s grace, being saved in the end would be, as it must be apparent to anyone, quite small.

Francis will soon discover what exclusion really is.

I don’t think he will like it.

Poor Monk!

Francis is always very, very attached to his faggots…

I don’t know who writes Francis’ almost daily little speeches and in what ways. My impression is that Francis gives him guidelines about what he wants to have and, once the work is done, reads it and worsens it, making the adjustments he sees fit.

This is, again if you ask me, the reason of the strange mixture of stuff that seems at least reasonable – and which is written in a way far more elegant for the obviously mediocre abilities of the man – and sudden parts when you read and wonder where that stuff came from.

One beautiful example is here. Fat Francis, who lives in luxury masquerading as poverty, considers a fitting example of greed the monk who has given away an enormous inheritance, but then has an attachment to little things, to objects related to his daily life, to the little companions of his prayerful existence.

Padre Pio never gave away a huge inheritance, but I would absolutely not think less of him for having, say, a favourite coffee mug that has been with him for many years, or some other little object that he sees as part of his life, perhaps a connection to people he loved, or to beautiful moments of his spiritual life.

The accusation of “greed” appears even more outlandish if, like Francis does, referred to people who have given away huge fortunes for the love of God, but are then criticised for not wanting to give away, say, a mug; and who is to say that the one requesting the mug is less greedy than the monk.

Francis, or rather his writer, refers vaguely to a “desert fathers’ analysis”, and I would love to read the analysis itself, which is not quoted, and see what angle it had. My hunch is that the analysis was far, far more forgiving than making of those poor monks (who were, clearly, in possession of a degree of saintliness I will never be able to approach) the very centre of a papal audience about greed.

I wonder whether this comes from. I suspect it comes from a man who just has no idea of the concept of sin. Francis has no problems with the very public homo orgasmic fantasies of one of his closest men, but woe to you if you give away a huge inheritance and cling to little objects dear to you.

The guy is off base from early morning to late evening, and probably manages to be lewd in his sleep.

And I suspect him, with reason, of being a homosexual.

But homo or not, this guy has infinitely bigger issues than the monks he criticises.

Was/Is Francis Tucho’s “Lover”?

This is for others to deepen. To look at dates and places. To see whether a pattern emerges.

But I will say what I think, because if the head of the CDF can write rubbish all day, I will be certainly allowed to write about a perfectly legitimate suspicion.

Francis was born around 1936. Tucho Fagnandez was born around 1962. Yes, there is an age difference, but nothing unheard of.

Francis is, very obviously, a lewd man. Lewd men do not stop being lewd because they get old. Il lupo perde il pelo, ma non il vizio.

And now, let’s look at the matter.

Francis aggressively promotes Fagnandes from the early days of his pontificate. He causes him to rise up to one of the highest roles in the Church, one that in normal times indicate a potential successor. He keeps him in place when the man manages to almost split the Church in two with his alternative theology. He stubbornly clings to him when repeated scandals erupt.

Seriously: do I need to connect the dots for you? What does Tucho have on Francis? Could it be…. that?

Of course, it might not be so. It might be that Francis is simply, well, bent on showing everybody that he is the one in charge. But the question remains: why promote so aggressively exactly this man, an Argentinian like him? Why lesser people have been thrown under the bus, and Tucho keeps being kept at his place? Isn’t extremely odd that Francis would go to this extent to protect the man?

Seriously: how close are they? Did Francis “heal” Tucho with his “kiss”?

Don’t get all sanctimonious on me, telling me that this is detraction. With the pontificate we are experiencing, this is perfectly plausible.

There, I have said it.

I do suspect this might be the case, though I realise the other way is just as probable.

But again: I am looking at this pontificate and adding 2 and 2.

Enough with faggotry held under our nose, which we simply refuse to see.

Pornofaggot Strikes Again

Tucho Fernández is, here, seen relaxing with friends as they discuss his latest book…

Just when you thought two books, one Fornicationis Laetitia, one Sodomy Supplicans and countless stupid public interventions were enough, you discover that Pornofaggot published two more orgasm-obsessed books.

The link has all the details. Yes, it is as bad as you think. This guy is so horny it’s a mystery he did not pick a different career as “actor” in homo porn movies. Oh wait, I think he liked the financial security, together with the availability of similarly “orgasmic” men.

We are already at 4 pornobooks published. Who knows what else will come out. It seems like this guy was so obsessed with sex he could just not shut up about it.

But is this all? Is this just a case of horny homo?

I think it is – if possible – even more sinister than that. I think that all these books were written and published in order to help this guy to groom young people, more likely boys.

He does not need to make great waves, you see. As a clergyman, he must have been smart enough – stupid as he may otherwise be – to know that the word going around about his “literary” exploits would damage his career opportunities. What I think he wanted, is to have the possibility to casually gift his books to young boys, asking them to read them and “discuss“ them later. It’s clearly grooming material, not theological discussion.

The filth inhabiting the mind of these people is really getting quite disquieting proportions.

For how long will Francis stick his head in the sand? How much damage does he want to cause? Is he happy to be incinerated this way?

He probably is.

I say: bring it on, Frankie. Refuse to see reason.

We will destroy your memory for all ages.

I Admit Defeat

“How stupid you are!”

After thirteen and a half years of blogging, I have come to the consideration that it was all for nothing. Thousands of blog posts, thousands of hours spent trying to defend Catholicism. More than ten millions views just wasted. I am sorry I have wasted my and my readers’ time.

The realisation struck me as I read this.

You see, it’s very simple. Blindingly obvious.

I just do not understand.

But what floored me – and filled me, at the same time, with a wholly new awe for the monstrous intelligence of the man – is understanding that, together with me, nobody has, ever, understood.

All the martyrs and saints of these two thousand years. All the theologians, the bishops, the priests. All the popes and cardinals. All the faithful who lived and died in the faith. They just did not understand.

The very role and function of the Church has been, up to now, simply betrayed due to the inability to grasp the truth in the intellectually superior way only Francis can. It’s – as I realise now – as if these two millennia were merely a preparation for the full revelation of the truth.

How towering over all of us is Francis’ almost immeasurable intelligence. What glorious superiority of thought he has been displaying these almost eleven years. How could I, all this time, just not understand that I was just too dumb to measure with this intellectual giant? Now I understand why he chose to be the first of his name. It could not be differently.

Yeah, we must be all wrong. We must have been all wrong these two thousand years.

Or he is a scoundrel, and a miserable son of a whore, insulting the Church and all her saints and martyrs and basking in his unspeakable arrogance.

It’s one of the two.

Tertium non datur.

Tucho, His Dildo, And The Homo “Couples”

Tucho is the one on the upper right hand corner…

There are times when I am so angry that I cannot write a blog post about a certain event without using expressions which I find entirely justified, but which many of my readers, particularly of a certain age or accustomed to niceness as a way of being, might find a bit too strong of a Catholic tobacco. Therefore, in these cases I have to wait until the blood pressure has subsided a bit.

You have already understood that I am talking about Fiducia Supplicans, the perverted document released by a perverted Cardinal to pay his tribute to the Vatican perverted lobby and to make it look like there is something Catholic in encouraging open, scandalous, church-defying sexual perversions.

Now, you need to notice here the way this

bucking fastard

tries to smuggle the homo heresy under a thin layer of pretend Catholicism.

The way it looks is that a priest can bless couples of faggots, trannies, all sorts of public degenerates openly defying the Church. However, this blessing is not the real blessing. It’s not a formal one, in a way. It’s an informal, “loose”, “jeans and T-shirt” blessing, because perverts accompany each other, you know, so Tucho will not leave his friends Adam & Steve without his “blessing”.

That’s a very interesting perspective, that really gives you the measure of the contortions of Tucho’s degenerate mind. With this reasoning, we can have two of everything. We can have a communion that is not the real communion, a confession that is not the real confession, and so on. Every time, Tucho will tell us that well, it is not really the real thing (because we still pretend we’re Catholic, you know), but hey, the message is clear enough, and leaves Church-defying perverts free to live in public scandal and satanic way of life, safe in the knowledge that a blessing will always be theirs on request.

Perhaps the perverts should all ask Tucho to bless their dildos? Hey, that’s another sacramental where they don’t want to be excluded, right?

Catholicism is not its rituals, liturgy, sacraments, and sacramentals. Catholicism is, first and foremost, the obedience to Christ and adherence to Christ’s rules which is the cause of the very existence of all these sacraments and sacramentals, and of all these rituals and this liturgy, in the first place.

Everything that the the Church does, she does as an expression of this obedience to Christ.

Taking a sacramental (and, again, it could be everything else) and saying “let’s have version 2.0 of it, so that we keep being Catholics whilst actually being perverts” is exactly the contrary of why these sacraments and sacramentals exist in the first place.

This is so obvious, so absolutely self-evident, that there would be no need to explain it to anybody. Alas, when the head of the CDF is a cucking fretin, and a homo one to boot, this is what happens.

This is, by the way, so typical of Francis. Double-tongued, hypocritical, obfuscating, and utterly satanical.

Soon, Satan might be kissing Francis, making him entirely sick with his mouth.

Oh, no wait.

Even Satan is disgusted by these people.

Narcissist To The End.

Frankie boy has let us know that, when his moment of truth comes, he does not want to be buried with the other Popes (the Catholic ones, more or less). No, he wants to be buried in Santa Maria Maggiore. He will want his funeral there, too.

Some have said this is so that it is easier for him to fill the smaller Santa Maria Maggiore than the huge Saint Peter. It may well be part of Frankie’s motivation.

However, I think the main motivation is another one: the guy wants, once again, be “special” and separate himself from his predecessors.

This is the same attitude that made him pick a name nobody had picked before him. This is the same attitude that made him do everything possible in a different way (the Fiat Cinquecento instead of the Mercedes; Santa Marta instead of a Vatican apartment, etc.).

The implied message is clear: I am not like them. I hate them. I don’t want to be confused with them in any way.

There is a narcissism in this, that is the same we have witnessed in these last, atrocious ten and a half years of atrocious pontificate. There is, also, a hate for the Church that has become increasingly more evident during his pontificate, and becomes more and more pronounced as the end approaches. In short, this is Francis being Francis.

Here’s hoping the guy does not see the eleventh anniversary of his election. I wish him salvation, of course. But I also wish to be freed from this disgrace.

As to the burial place, I suggest the traditional one for the likes of him:

the Tiber.

Evil Never Had A Chance. What To Do When The Pope Is A Bastard.

He will not prevail.

A recent article written by Sir Henry Sire (can’t find the link now) outlines in great details the way Francis operates. What comes out of it is a man obsessed with power, wilfully going around and looking for people he can blackmail; these people he will promote and protect, obtaining in exchange absolute (because forced) loyalty.

Up to here it’s very bad, but not unprecedented. This kind of behaviour appears more or less in line with the behaviour of countless bad popes of the past, from the famous ones like Alexander VI, Leo X, or Julius II to the very many corrupt, scheming and, in general, utterly unworthy Popes of the X, XI, or XII Centuries.

However, Francis is worse than all of them. Very obviously, Francis hates the Church. A guy who is simply ill with power, or corrupt, will – like an Alexander VI – go after his corrupt personal desires and leave Church teaching alone. This is not Francis’ case. Francis has this very, very special quality, that he can’t even stand a child with his hands joined in prayer, to the point of disjoining his hands in front of the running cameras.

There can be no doubt that the devil is very, very strong in this one. His worldly corruption (the desire to have thieves and homos around him, and I still think there is more to it than the fact they can be blackmailed) is merely an exterior manifestation of much deeper, much more disquieting troubles.

You will ask why God has allowed such a bastard to become Pope, in the same way as many people in past Centuries have wondered how God allowed their own bastards to become popes. My answer to that is very simple: God’s Providence. God turns all evil into goodness, in ways that are, very often, not clear to us. Francis is no exception. The God who can use murderers, rapists, torturers and pedophiles to further His providential plan will most certainly use Francis for His own purposes, whether the bastard likes it or not.

You will now ask why is the evil of this pope so unprecedented. My answer to that is: because the evil of V II was unprecedented, too. A time-delayed atomic bomb was set up during the Second Vatican Council, with the participation of both the very bad subversives (like the oh-so-revered Ratzinger, who would have attracted the ires of the Inquisition is all centuries but the ones he operated in) and the even worse ones (like Congar). We are now living in the time-delayed atomic fallout, and chances are we will all have to die in it, too.

It seems all very linear to me. Very logical. Even elegant. Yes, it makes us suffer and it makes us angry, but our suffering and righteous anger will turn to our good, whilst the scheming of Francis and his ilk will turn, unless God’s grace saves them, to their destruction, which is also good.

God works in mysterious ways.

Our duty is to be faithful to Him with our last breath, and to die with the confidence that evil never had a chance.

Horribly Fascinating, Or: A New Level Of Petty Vengeance

A recent portrait of Pope Francis

I have written countless times about the petty vengefulness of the Evil Clown. It seems that, with age advancing – or death approaching – the man is now successfully testing the limits of his own arrogant pettiness.

Cardinal Burke is to be deprived of apartment and salary. Just like that.

Why, you will ask? Is the Cardinal accused of sexual impropriety, lack of orthodoxy, or outright heresy?

No. Francis stated – according to several witnesses – that he will deprive Cardinal Burke of salary and flat because he thinks that the Cardinal is his enemy.

There. Nothing more needed.

It’s like having to do with a sort of paranoid Argentine Stalin, without the tribunals (which Francis does not need anyway) and the death penalty (remember, Francis is against it!).

Stalin was, admittedly, extremely paranoid. But he had much better reason to do it than Francis. Stalin knew that the atrocities he had committed created a big danger of him being shot in the back by one of the very many people who wished him dead, perhaps at the risk of, or sacrificing, their own lives. Burke did not even follow up on the Dubia.

As an “enemy”, Burke does not even begin to qualify. As a mild nuisance, perhaps. Like a kitten meowing a bit too much.

What I think is happening is that the Evil Clown feels that the end of the party might be approaching. Being the little, spiteful scoundrel he is, he wants to profit of the time left to settle some final scores. He never cared for his reputation before, so he will not do it now. In fact, the petty satisfaction he always had in showing you he indulged in his tyranny because he could is likely amplified now.

Remember when Francis admitted he was a bully at school? As he gets older, he reverts more and more to the little, stupid, petty boy he once was.

I cannot think of any person among my acquaintances that is as much of an obdurate little scoundrel as this one. I am pretty sure you cannot, either.

Seeing him approaching death whilst not only being quite the scoundrel he always was, but even going pedal to the metal in his final stretch is something horribly fascinating, like watching a big car crash happening in real time.

Let’s hope this crash happens soon.

No Dubai For Frankie Boy

“Stop praying the rosary”!

Frankie boy is not going to travel to Dubai. This has been announced yesterday in the wake of whatever it is that the man has. Frankie boy has said that he is very sorry he had to heed the doctors’ advice.

For once, I believe him.

Making himself beautiful in a great show of environmental virtue would have delighted him. Imagine, he would have had another occasion to implicitly tell people – including what should be his own flock – that there is no Providence regulating the mechanisms of the earth; that the climate is not a wonderful machine that we have not even begun to investigate, but something very delicate, that even cows can endanger with their farts; and that the world will not end when Jesus comes again in glory, but if we don’t stop with our bad, bad Capitalistic habits.

Oh, being together with so many other people who either don’t believe in God or believe in the wrong one, what joy that would have been! Away, for a couple of days, from all those pesky people with their rosaries, and from all those children with their hands joined in prayer!

But no, it wasn’t to be. Too old, too fat, too ill, said the doctors. Better not travel, lest the man becomes bacon and sausages in just a few week.

I can well imagine how he felt. I can also well imagine what he said.

A word that begins with “c”, and ends with “azzo”.

Stay at home, Frankie boy, and try to pray.

If we are lucky, you might be in need of them fairly soon.

The Dumb Pretender

“I hate that Guy above!”

Francis has written a letter to four German people, two of them theologians, criticising the way things are going in Germany.

He criticises the fact that the Germans want to create a sort of “German Church Politburo”, with the participation of the laity. This, Francis does not like. Homos, they can all be with his, literally, blessing. But he must remain the unchallenged Fag In Chief.

In Francis’ world, heresy must be pushed in a centralised way, from him, exactly in the way and with the measures he decides. He certainly can’t have people un-poping themselves; not as long as he is Pope, anyway.

But wait: Francis says he has written to ze Cermans a letter back in January. That was 10 months ago. Ze Cermans have kept going anyway. Was there any Strickland treatment there? Of course not.

The fact is that Francis will not allow ze Cermans to go too far. But he will certainly allow them to do a lot of damage. At some point, he will reassert his authority, gaining brownie points by all those dumb enough to not understand that Germany is just another way for Francis to drive a controlled demolition of the Church (or so he hopes).

As a strategy, it’s pretty dumb, particularly when one considers the wanton brutality with which Francis goes against those who really grate him. However, one must say that the press is easily pleased, and too ignorant of Catholic things to escape headlines of “Pope moves against progressive clergy”. Plus, all the Pollyannas still thinking this guy has something pious in him are all there, hands joined, waiting to clap.

We, who aren’t dumb and have seen through this tool for many years now, know better: the guy is a heretic through and through, and he crushes the challenges to his heresy whilst he uses those even more revolutionary than him to drive his own agenda.

One day, he will be called to give the account. Obdurate as he is, I very much doubt things are going to go well for him.

God will not be mocked.

Neither by him, nor by ze Cermans.

Why Francis Is A Pervert

Francis is seen here dreaming of trannie prostitutes…

The Associated Press recently had another article praising “inclusive” Frankie boy, and delving in the sordid world of pervert prostitutes who are now given VIP treatment by Frankie The Lewd Old Heretic. I thought I would give you my two world to counter all this inclusion.

First things first: only a pervert would want to see those wretched monsters, who are repulsive to everyone with a sane and normal mind. Francis gives them the VIP treatment so that he can take a good look at them, the little lewd scoundrel. Every week, no less.

Secondly: there is a reason why these people are shunned from society, and it is because their entire life is in total opposition to Christian values.

Let me put it in a different way: there is no “good” trannie prostitute. Both the fact of being a trannie, and the fact of being a prostitute, give scandal and merit the man who so behaves total isolation from the society of normal people. Nobody is due any inclusion, who refuses to behave in an inclusive way.

Now, you might say that Francis wants you to know that he “includes” these people in order to anger Catholics. Well, this is certainly part of the motivation. However, if this were the case and Francis were normal in the head, he would let these people have the faithful’s money without having to endure their sight.

Not our boy. Our boy wants to have these dregs near to him, so he can take a peep, every Wednesday.

No normal person would ever behave in this way.

Pervert is who pervert does.

I rest my case, and you know I am right.

It’s Tough To Be A Stupid Country

Rapidly running out…

It was over from the start, but now it’s official: the Ukraine is switching to “positional defence”. This means that the “counteroffensive” is done.

What did this wonderful exercise in military stupidity bring? Around 100,000 dead soldiers, which would haunt Zelensky’s conscience for the rest of his life, if he had one.

Ukraine never had a chance. No military commander with some salt in his head starts a counteroffensive when he has a 1 to 10 inferiority in artillery and his enemy vastly surpasses him in armoured vehicles, drones, anti aerial defences and control of the sky. Plus, the Ukrainians attacked an enemy that had had months at his disposal to entrench itself. It was a catastrophe waiting to happen, as the readers of this little effort were told from the start.

What were the net territorial gains? They are counted in dozens of square kilometres of, basically, useless territory, as the Ukrainians never breached even the first line of the Russian fortifications. Yes, the stupid Western propaganda lied to you again, selling for “first line” the vast buffer zones that stay in front of it.

100,000 dead in 5 months. For comparison, the US lost less than 5 times as much in the entirety of WW II, on all battle fronts. The US also had, at the time, perhaps 4 or 5 times the Ukrainian population of today.

What was the use, then? I will tell you what the use was. It was the continuation of the massive stealing at all levels of the Ukrainian military and civil administration, a bonanza worth billions of dollar and which had to be kept alive at all costs, particularly when the cost is paid by others.

Zelensky & Co. keep enriching themselves whilst they destroy the very future of their Country. The Country itself, though, cannot really call itself innocent. Same as in Nazi Germany, collective bad choices bring collective disaster. You can’t support murderous bastards and terrorists of all sorts and then say you are innocent of guilt. The same goes for the Ukrainians. The same goes for the Palestinians.

Same as in Nazi Germany (and in Palestine), a devastating ideology of terrorism and hate has seized the population. Now the chicken are coming home to roost. Some will get immensely rich and enjoy a privileged existence in Florida. Some will rot in their grave, as many monuments to their own stupidity. Some others will, unwilling victims of this madness, get to an early grave that was not of their making, but I think the latter must be a minority in the Ukraine. If you were fine with the indiscriminate bombing of the civilian population in the Donbas, then a place in the trenches, under relentless enemy fire, is exactly what you deserved.

100,000 have died. Zelensky & Co. have become wealthier still. The Ukraine is now in tatters with clearly no hope of gaining the lost territories back.

It’s though to be a stupid Country.

Spirits

Francis has already ordered his hearse…

Which Catholic has not been nerved by all those Protestants stating that they have a direct line with the Holy Ghost? The smugness, the sense of superiority, the idea that they can’t be contradicted, because they have the Direct Line?

Well, it appears that heretics who call themselves Catholic do exactly the same. Their synodal conversations about synoding synodaliteeee were conducted as “conversations in the Spirit”.

Well, call me surprised at the statement. The spirit in question (probably, an evil one), must have been rather schizophrenic, because there are many reports that the discussions were often heated and at times tumultuous. Then there is the question of how can it be that the Holy Ghost (I assume the heretics meant Him) has a different “conversation” today than He always had in the past.

These quite elementary remarks do not seem to have troubled the participants. They are not choosy in matters of spirits. Whatever they get, and be that the spirit of Martin Luther, they will gladly accept him and have conversations “in him”.

Normal Catholics must read this kind of statements and wonder what kind of creepy individuals would talk of themselves in that day. Then they would see a pic of Father Georgina, and all doubts would be removed.

Luckily, it appears the world at large ignores them and their antics, at least for now.

Let’s hope there is a big funeral at the Vatican before next October, and the next phase of this nonsense is simply cancelled.

Synod: Closing Document Is (Still) Full Of Crap

The Synod on Synodyng something related to Synodality has come to an end. Actually, this phase only. There will be a new round next year.

If you think this is a “victory”, I have some considerations for you.

Firstly, this is all a charade, with women thinking they are bishops and bishops thinking they can decide what to keep and what to change of the Church’s unchangeable tradition. Therefore, this document is subversive in its very nature.

Secondly, whilst is true that the document in itself does not contain any very major bomb (we knew this already), there can be no denying the fact that the document, in fact, expressly states that such bombs may explode in the future. Basically, this is the crafting of a hand grenade complete of the pin, and the synoding synodality boys ‘n girls will decide next year what happens with the pin.

Let us see the major issues in detail:

Faggots ‘n dykes

The text: “The anthropological categories we have developed are sometimes inadequate to capture the complexity of elements that emerge from experience or the knowledge of the sciences and require refinement and further study”.

I read this as: “it might have been wrong, these two thousand years, to say that “man and female God made them”. We might have to review the Bible, which might be inadequate to appease the perverts among us and outside. We’ll discuss about this more”.

So-called wymyn deacons.

“Theological and pastoral research on women’s access to the diaconate should be continued, making use of the results of the commissions specifically set up by the Holy Father, as well as the theological, historical and exegetical studies already carried out.”

Translation into English: “we will not have wymyn deacon as Francis has already said this is taboo; however, some of the witches present at the synod bitched everybody so much that we did not want to put an end to discussion, lest we are all attacked with brooms”.

Two other bombs are hidden in the text, as stated in the linked article.

The “Claim that a consensus of the faithful (consensus fidelium) is a sure criterion for the way church doctrine is decided upon”. This is Protestant rubbish, as the consensus of the faithful must be in line with the perennial teaching of the Church. Without this caveat, there is a huge door open to those who, next year, will say that the consensus fidelium is now that …. (put here a couple of abominations).

“Call to use gender ideological language in liturgical texts”. This is more protestant rubbish. This is “Our Mother, who art in heaven”-bad. This is like asking Mr Trudeau to review the liturgy. OK, I don’t know the exact context and it might just be an isolated (and ignored) “call” from some wymyn flying on a broom, but it’s bad that these things are in the text anyway.

To counter this, the only real good news of the document: the refusal to even address perversion in the way the perverts want to be addressed (that is: with the alphabet salad). Methinks, a lot of bishops start being seriously peeved.

However, when all is said and done this what not, and was not mean to be, the revolution. This was meant to be a preliminary stage to “changes” which Francis will introduce next October; certainly not on wymyn deacons, but more likely on some form of “recognising” of perverts.

Can’t wait for Francis to die.

If God is merciful to us, He will put an end to this guy’s antics and give a Catholic successor by next October.

If God is not merciful to us, it means that we must buckle up and face the turbulence.

The church airplane will not crash anyway.

The Disease And The Cure

Not following you

We complain – and rightly so – of having to cope with a pope who hates the Church and tries at every step to sabotage Catholic doctrine. We bemoan – not without reason – having to live in an age of heresy and utter heathenism. We have to find our own path to the sheepfold, because our shepherds are not interested in us and, in fact, seem to side with the wolfs.

However, in doing so, we forget the many graces that God has given us. We live in times of unprecedented prosperity, which also means leisure to investigate Catholic doctrine at our heart’s content. We are given the Internet, which allows us to access the treasure trove of Catholic theology and thinking in a way only the wealthy could do in the past. We have – for now – the free time, the freedom and the economic means to access such a vast Catholic patrimony as our ancestors could only dream of.

Providence is at work all the time. Your grand-grandma only had the money for a bible, missal and, perhaps, a life of the saints, but she had a fearless parish priest taking care of her soul and, far, far away, a Pope caring to transmit the message intact. You have a strange, high-pitched guy as a priest, and a total scoundrel as the pope, but you can become way more proficient in the ways of Catholicism then your grand-grandma could ever dream of becoming, from the comfort of a home she would likely have considered a castle.

God gives you both the challenges and the way, or the graces, to overcome them. God prepares for you the gym, and asks you to exert yourself and keep fit for the day you will be judged. It is not for you to bemoan the gym you were given. Yours is to accept the gym instruments God gave you, and make good use of them.

We complain about Francis from our well-heated dwellings, very possibly after having eaten too much. This luxury, our ancestors very seldom had. When they were not positively, physically persecuted, they had to live in fear of the next draught, or Saracen incursion. It is Saturday today, and I could get a catechism online and drown in it until it’s bed time, without any Saracen disturbing my peace.

Screw you, Francis. You won’t get in the way of my salvation.

The same God who has allowed the disease has also given me the cure.