Blog Archives

The Hounds Are Catching Up With Fr Volpi

Mirror, mirror... no, wait!




As many of you know, Volpi in Italian means, literally, “foxes”. More probably it is the usual patronymic, from the Latin Vulpii, “(the son) of Vulpius”. Be it as it may, the man's name means “fox”. And a very, very ugly fox this one is. Fox is, as every Englishman knows, officially classified as vermin. Father Volpi is, of course, not vermin. He has an immortal soul. But I doubt this fox will – vermin, or not – manage to escape the hounds.

We are now reliably informed that even the Italian civil justice (which has improved in the last decades, but still is a rather Kafkaesque experience) is more rapid than the heavily modernised, poor-minded, environment-loving, Christ-oblivious, shower-installing apparatus of the Bishop of Rome. Which says not something but, actually, an awful lot.

What has – we are reliably informed – happened, is that the Fox has been condemned to pay the non indifferent amount of €20,000 as a compensation for the slander against Father Manelli.

Now, please understand how the Italian defamation laws work. If one is a public personage, the public criticism against him can go rather far. In doing this, however, it must be clear that the criticism is a political one, not a personal slander.

If one were to say: “Berlusconi is the prostitute of the tax-evaders”, it would be clear that Berlusconi is not being accused of prostitution in the proper sense of the world, and the criticism is a robust criticism of his political activity. But if one were to write: “Berlusconi has stolen from the secret funds of the Italian Home Office” he had better have reliable, at least anecdotical evidence of what he is saying, or else an awful lot of Elton John treatment will soon be in store for him.

Slander is a serious matter. No one can accuse someone of misappropriating the funds of a religious order just because he wants to massacre his reputation, on the way to the massacre of his order. This is something that completely destroys the credibility of the man making the slanderous accusations, and that makes him unfit to keep having influence on the man he has slandered and on his order.

Volpi will, if Francis has any decency left, be made to go. The hounds are very near to his throat.

Still, two considerations must be made.

1) it is doubtful whether Francis has any decency left. I would answer that in the negative. One who lives under the roof of a poof, and receives a Trannie and his “fiancé”, clearly does not know where decency lives. If Francis forces Volpi to go it will be because of opportunity, not decency.

2) it is even more doubtful – it is, actually, unrealistic – to think that when the hounds hunt down this very ugly fox the persecution of the FFI will end. The FFI is persecuted because Francis wants it so. Volpi is mot the main culprit; merely the very nasty, ugly executioner.

Therefore, if you think that the FFI is soon to be restored to normality I suggest you curb your enthusiasm. In order for this to happen, Francis must see a political advantage for him in rehabilitating them. I do not see why Volpi's behaviour would change anything in Francis' one.

The only hope that the persecution ends during Francis' pontificate lies in the common, universally spread knowledge that the FFI's persecution happened because of his will, and on his orders. Then, and not before, Francis will have a real, concrete interest to say he never had anything to do with it because he happened to be in the bathroom, or was about embracing wheelchairs, or was just conversing with some Trannie buddy of his.

The hounds might well kill this fox; but the persecution of the FFI will, I am afraid, soon go on unabated.

M

 

The Francis Archipelago

 

 

stalin

 

 

 

 

The shocking news, published on Rorate, of the suspension a divinis of some FFI priests looking for a new religious order is a faithful mirror image of the “mercy” of this Pontificate. A Pontificate which is rapidly distinguishing itself for the brutal illegality of his main actor as much as for the obvious ignorance – or worse – of all things Catholic. And no, for the umpteenth time: a Pope is bound by the rules as long as he does not – if he is allowed in the first place, of course – change them. He is a Pope, not a Satrap.he is bound by the rules as long as they are there. He is the one who is supposed to behave exemplarily in the first place.

Mr Beria – or shall I say Father Volpi – is acting with the brutality of a Soviet Communist Party enforcer, and to think that Francis is not behind all of this is just as brainless as to think that Stalin was in the dark about Beria’s work.

“Soon, soon!” were the words of the Bishop of Rome to the old couple who had given several of their sons to the Order, and asking in so many words when the persecution would end. How Francis must have hated them! How he must have rejoiced in saying to them those words, and thinking “just you wait!”! I wonder if there is still one sensible reader of this blog who has doubts whether The Most Astonishing Hypocrite In Church History (TMAHICH) is entirely appropriate.

It is clear what, in the mind of this man, those words meant: soon, soon will we subject your sons and all their confreres to the most brutal Soviet-Style reeducation camp. Soon, soon will we make them understand that resistance is futile. Soon, soon will we make clear to them that they have nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Woe to the bishops who should dare to give them asylum. Woe to those Friars themselves who should entertain such thoughts and dare to act on them: they will be ruthlessly suspended. This, by the by, mere weeks after a dissenting nutcase has been allowed to call himself a priest in good standing again, and has thanked the Bishop of Rome by making a shameless apology of Fidel Castro.

Truly, this Pope is beyond contempt. Truly, he is the ISIS of the Church. Truly, he is the enemy of everything still remaining within the Church that is still orthodox after 50 years of relentless devastation.

And the bullying, the bullying is breathtaking. No confrontation whatever with the SSPX, who would expose him as a little, stupid child with a running nose in no time, if he dared to sound the charge against them. Instead, Stalinian reeducation and unprecedented enforcement of heterodoxy over an entire order; persecution delivered from a mind of which the only thing that can be said for sure is that mercy does not live there; with Catholics, at least.

The Francis Archipelago is now working full steam. After the FFI and Lovieres Plano, others will follow as the Humble Bishop keeps persecuting orthodox bishops like there is no tomorrow. Bishop Finn could, in fact, be the very next.

Fool.

The Church goes out of every persecution stronger and more confident in the end. However big the damage this man can make (and it can be a huge damage, if the Lord in his wrath keep punishing us with his presence), the end of the campaign is written already: Satan’s complete and utter defeat.

We laymen – bloggers, commenters, fathers, teachers, friends, sons and daughters – must denounce the evil intentions of this godless man as loud as we can: frankly, openly, brutally. Shock your friends at the pub, and let them smile at first when they hear you saying what a disgrace this Pope is. They will smile, I assure you. But just a few phrases of reasoned arguing will get the smartest among them thinking. God works in mysterious ways, but he certainly never measures a priest from the number of followers he has, or indicates to us that the vast majority must be, on the whole, right.

The God of Athanasius, and of Archbishop Lefebvre, is watching us. He wants to see whether we swim with the stinking tide of a pontificate smelling of sheep (and therefore, actually, of shit), or dare to say that true is true and wrong is wrong; and the Pope can smoke whatever he pleases, but he won’t change reality.

The Francis Archipelago is now in full operation. Pray the Lord that we may see it become a relic of the past, like the Gulag one.

But still, reflect that this event is not a matter of if, but only of when.

Mundabor

 

Caesar, Biggus Dickus, And The Fratres Immaculatae.

Does he know of Biggus Dickus Vulpius?

Does he know of Biggus Dickus Vulpius?

And it came to pass a Roman Centurion, called Biggus Dickus Vulpius, went against a community of Roman Christians, a small group of pious people calling themselves Fratres (vel Sorores) Mariae immaculatae Servi (vel Servae), in short: Fratres (Sorores) Immaculatae. Eight Hundred of them in all, between men and women, and not counting the many catechumens.

The poor wretches were put in a rather unhealthy dungeon, and their leader put in isolation in a single cell, chained to the wall as then the custom required.

The Christian population of Rome was appalled. How could Biggus Dickus Vulpius have done something so appalling? Caesar must be informed! Caesar is so good and so merciful, he would never ever allow this to happen!

The community was, therefore, very angry at Vulpius. He was, they were persuaded, clearly the bad guy, and was obviously acting without Caesar’s knowledge. The Imperial corridors are so long, and the salons one must walk through so many, that the poor Emperor cannot be in any way informed about what is happening! And he so good, so merciful, so full of tender love!

But then some people noticed that when Biggus Dickus had first put in place his big wave of arrests, he had insistently said he was doing it by order of Caesar. Would Vulpius – they reasoned – a mere Centurion, dare to go ultra vires and abuse his power in such a way as to claim a direct order from Caesar that was simply non-existent? Would not this be the end of the career, and more probably the life, of such a deluded, megalomaniac Centurion? And why would Caesar – they also said – have lied to everyone about Biggus Dickus being responsible for the small Christian community of the arrested? No, this couldn’t be. Actually, that Vulpius was legitimately in charge, no one dared to question. They all knew Caesar himself had put him there! They also knew how angry Caesar became any time someone dared to mock, or even criticise, Biggus Dickus… But that Vulpius would act with Caesar’s consent in a way that is so much in contrast to the Wise and Peaceful Caesar, this could not, most certainly not be believed!

Frantic days of uncertainty and fear were lived in and around the dungeon. The poor prisoners were left with bread and water. They were told that their leader, Pius Manellus Conditor, was a very bad man. Once, it was said, he had not answered a letter from Vulpius; or a question, that is; or Vulpius had not liked the answer, perhaps; or something like that. They also started rumours he was an enemy of the Empire, or at least he had sympathies for the Pii Galli Helvetici, a small but tough community of mountain people who, whilst very faithful to Caesar, said that Caesar is not God and persisted in their position. The Conditor was, Vulpius also said, probably corrupt, but no one ever knew anything more precise. Certainly, he was Proto-Gallican; though no one had ever noticed it, either. What they knew, is that Manellus must have been very bad; at some point; in something.

Vulpius was not to be persuaded: Manellus had to remain in chains. A dangerous man, he said; given to domineering, never able to listen. Six of his men, Biggus Dickus reported, tought him not cooperative. Perhaps even more, though this was very unclear. Still: six over only eight hundred? How can such a man, said Vulpius, lead a community of Christians? This community is utterly divided, and Manellus is the divisive one!

The prisoners continued to wail, Manellus continued to be kept in chains, and all the dearest habits of the poor men and women were now forbidden. Vulpius was keeping faith to his name, though calling him Biggus Dickus could have attracted the ire of Caesar; so no one inside the dungeon called him that way.

Until, one day, Caesar came to visit.

He was very nice, very affable, extremely gentle, and utterly Imperial. He listened to a couple of them with great attention. Then he said to them: ” Don’t worry, my dear little Christian community. Do as my trusted Vulpius says. He knows what is best for you. Have confidence. Don’t complain about the dungeon. It’s for your own good. Everything will be fine. Trust me. Am I not known all over the vast Empire as The Humble Caesar of Mercy and Tenderness?”

At this point, the poor wretched in the dungeon did not have any doubt that Caesar himself was behind the action. But outside the dungeon, others were of different opinion. Caesar must have visited the building, but clearly no one had informed him that that was a dungeon! They must have said to him it was a wellness centre! Manellus was certainly unchained in an isolated cell, but obviously Caesar had not been informed of that! It was all Biggus Dickus’ fault, you see! Such a shame cannot be permitted!

So the loyal subjects of Caesar, the man whose mercy and tenderness were sung all over the Roman Empire, continued to believe that Caesar was being duped. He was clearly not told what a dungeon is for; he was clearly kept fully in the dark as to all that was happening; he was clearly not told exactly where to look, and exactly what to think; and how could he, the poor lamb, make the right decision when the wolves around him do not even tell him dungeons are pretty cold, and rather damp? If Vulpius had only refrained from telling him the cold was there to help the wretches lose weight…

Therefore, they went around Rome, full of sacred zeal, saying to everyone: “Help us let Caesar know what is happening to that poor community in the dungeon! He must, he must be informed! We will always obey to everything he says, because for Caesar one must fall on his sword without questioning the order; but if he knew, if he only knew, all this would not be happening, surely? Help us, help us, help us!”.

At one point, the poor men and women were transferred to another building. It was clear there were lions not very far from then, trained every day. But they couldn’t see much, because the place was very dark. The lions were loud, though, and rather angry; possibly they were hungry, too.

The good men and women inside the dungeon were, at this point, much afraid.

But those outside, they kept accusing Biggus Dickus, and said Caesar could not have anything to do with it.

Mundabor


%d bloggers like this: