Oh, the winds of change!
This photo was taken only months ago. In the meantime, the Gay Mulatto has seen his legacy destroyed and his backside all but kicked in the dustbin of history; the smug Englishman was unceremoniously told to resign after the Country told him what they think of him; the Italian bimbominchia (a nickname that will remain attached to him; I will avoid the translation…) received a suppository that makes Brexit seem worthy of a recount, and forced him to go (70% vote attendance, 60% against him; basically a televised rape). The last one, the insignificant chap you see ignored even by his own peers in the photo, has decided that he will admit defeat before he is even defeated.
Only one remains, the German Bitch, in Italy known under the affectionate nickname culona inchiavabile (I will not not translate that, either…). She has announced she will run again next year. I will say only this: make Germany great again!
What do the four mongrels have in common? They all have encouraged and steered the passing of legislation in favour of sexual perversion. It will now take a lot of time to reverse the damage they have done and, unless they and their accomplices repent, I am confident the Lord will find suitable pits in hell for them all. It will take time, but it can be done, and we just had a very impressive (multiple) demonstration of how fast things can change.
We must work every day on the recovery of sanity, and hope that we will see the day when the damage done by the mongrels and their accomplices has been completely reversed. But the mongrels are all gone or about to go now, and this is enough consolation for the day.
I am informed via Father Z's blog that in France the President has authorised a woman to marry a man.
Whilst this should be the normality in every country whose people can use their brain – even in France – in this case the matter is made somewhat unusual by the fact that one of the two happy people who are supposed to pronounce the oui ( or “je le veux”, or whatever it is) is without the shadow of a doubt either in a very advanced state of decomposition or – if from an atheist background, say, or works of mercy have been deemed a waste of time and money – reduced to very fine ashes these past two years.
Now, what makes our women-chasing hero, Monsieur Hollande, think that a bunch of bones, or a handful of ashes, may pronounce the words “I do?”. It is, apparently, a rather absurd law of 55 years ago, (ill) conceived to allow the “marriage” of betrothed people on occasion of a big tragedy that cost the life of hundreds.
I am no canonist, but I cannot imagine that the simple intention to marry one day in the future can reasonably translate into a marriage; not one inter vivos, much less one between a living bride and a long deceased corpse. Many are the marriages called off at the last minute, and with acute instinct the popular mind identifies in those very words, “I do”, the confirmation that the will to marry is actually there, thus wonderfully matching the common sense with the legal status; because if the magic words in the proper setting are not there I am sorry, dear lass, but you are as much unmarried as before.
Now, I will spare you the jokes about the great joy in the cemetery, and the Bridegroom inviting its entire population to a danse macabre after the ceremony. What concerns me is that something that 55 years ago was probably seen as a – strange and creepy – way to protect marriage is now probably seen as another way to extend marriage to pretty much everything under the sun.
In the same way as the UK wants the death of the EU as a political organism by allowing Turkey to become part of it, the secular society wants the death of the institution of marriage through “inclusion” of the most outlandish things, from the absurd concept of a dead bridegroom to the far more absurd concept of two wannabe brides or bridegrooms, to the future frontier of geometrically enriched (triangles, or quadrangles; the sky, or the circumference, is the limit) “marriages”.
I want to hope this marriage “par ordre du mufti” does not have any legal consequences of sort; but again this is France, so you never know.
It is also interesting to reflect where this might lead to. For example, there could be some business in matching deceased people. A company called, say, “happy coffin” might talk with the bereaved, who would then – based on the matching profile of the “couple” – decide that Aunt Agatha' and Uncle Freddy would have wanted to marry, if they had met; which, unfortunately, they didn't, but I am sure Monsieur Hollande is no man to be discouraged by this little detail. A letter to him, et voila'. The putative husbands will, rather probably, not be asked.
Therefore this little episode, in itself only the result of a monomaniacal and rather macabre bout of emotionalism of a non-widow, can well be considered another nail in the – erm, well, (cough) – coffin of marriage as God intended.
Which – whatever Monsieur Hollande, mad members of Parliament or a wannabe widow want you to believe – is the only one there will ever be.
The news has reached the Italian newspapers (the decent ones, at least; the others just ignore the facts) that the French government has abandoned the proposed new “family” (means: meant to destroy it) legislation, which would have allowed, among other things, “couples” of dykes to get a child in vitro.
For added fun, it appears the government ranks are now in full disarray on this, with some extremists wanting to go on with proposal without government support, and hoping to get a majority. So you have them losing and quarrelling, which is a rather interesting scenario.
Further battles (assuming this one will be definitively won, which for the moment appears probable to me) await the movement, which will now focus against the measures meant to cancel the concept of “sex is destiny” perverting even little children. Of course, other battles await, including the backpedaling on the abomination of so-called “same sex marriages”.
I allow myself to notice here again what I have written already on several occasion: the typical politician in a Western democracy is a coward ready to cave in at the first signs of popular rage. Hollande & Co. aren't so ideologised that they will put their career in danger for their convictions. You miaow, they roar. You roar, they miaow.
Evidently, Hollande & Co. have not believed the police numbers – impressive in themselves – but rather the pictures with the huge crowds in Paris and Lyon last Sunday. They know their political asses might one day be on the line, and they care for their own far more than they claim to fight for the emancipation of a faggot's sphyncter.
I hope this first, but highly significative victory encourages the decent Frenchmen that this madness can be reversed, and helps the movement to gain further momentum – no thanks to Francis – in the years to come.
Francis is, as we all know, not one to judge. If you smell of favela and come from the “outskirts”, or else say to him you are “of good will”, he will leave you free to do whatever you please without as much as raising an eyebrow. Actually, though, it seems he does perfectly nothing even when the Head of State (Italians would use “head” in another context now; but I digress…) of France, the old teenager Francois Hollande, comes to visit.
Last time I looked in the news, sodomy was not part of the agenda between the two. Why is that? Because Francis is not interested in talking about it, of course.
Think of this: even when Western leaders met Soviet leaders, there were always mentions of the value they share. No Western Head of State would visit Russia without at least having on record that the situation of perverts over there has been addressed. The Pope, though, does not think that the issue of sodomy be worth at least a polite statement about the Vatican's and the Teenager's total disagreement on the matter.
This, as just another wave of Manif pour Tous takes place in France.
If Francis were a decent Pontiff rather than a disgraceful… bishop of Rome, he would not miss one occasion to support the brave men and women fighting for basic morality in France. Instrad, he abundantly shows that to him they are an embarrassment.
Being Francis, he will certainly throw some bird food to the pigeons every now and then: he does have to if he want to show he is Catholic, uncomfortable as this will let him feel. But everytime he can show to the secular society how much he does not care he will do, as the Hollande visit clearly shows.
Hollande should have come back to France with every Frenchman knowing he is the enemy of Christ and his Church. This can be done diplomatically but effectively. Again, look at the West's behaviour toward Putin: is there anyone in the West not knowing what the stance of the Post-Christian Western European States is? As it is, Hollande came back knowing from that corner he has nothing to fear.
This is how Francis betrays Christ and His Church, whilst he collects magazine covers from the adoring godless world.
You would not believe what is happening in France these days.
The woman who accepted to become the mistress of a man living with another concubine plays victim because another woman has now accepted to become the mistress of the same man. All three of them grown up – at least anagraphically – and with children.
The same First Concubine, who tried to play the forgiving partner for the sake of the five servants, the life of luxury, and the international prominence, has now been pretty unceremoniously kicked out. She was only the concubine, you see, so no big formalities here. Adieu, servants who cater to her every whim. Adieu, photo-ops at the side of the powerful husband (eh? Oh, sorry, mistake!). Adieu, meeting with the Obamas next month. She would have looked so good beside man-jawed Michelle O., her dear, dear friend! Their conversations on “how to house-train your husband” were so funny!
As to the Child President, he must have had with some trusted functionary a conversation of this kind: “look, Monsieur le President: it’s clear you can’t keep your little friend in your pants, and it is only a matter of time before another woman takes the place of this actress. It would, therefore, be much wiser to keep the palace free from concubines and mistresses of all sorts. When the time comes to take the next toy on board, the noise will be greatly reduced. You want to stand for re-election one day, n’est-ce que pas?”
The President – who is a child, but an ambitious one – realised these were wise words, and decided to henceforward become officially single, though with the – how banal – actress on the side. He now has the double advantage of getting rid of the old witch without having another one squatting on the Élysée palace and making his life miserable. That should make for a happy child for a while.
Oh, about the witch… It turns out Ms Trierweiler is affectionately called “Rottweiler” by those who know and, as far as it goes, love her, and her stern behaviour towards her man-child is now becoming universally known. Apparently, on one particular interview Monsieur Hollande made the big mistake of mentioning – as in: mentioning – his once lawfully non-wedded quasi-wife, Ségolène, and later complained with the interviewing journalist the Rottweiler would now make his life hell for that; and he said this in all seriousness, and allegedly bleaching as soon as he realised his faux pas. Granted, the rumours of great devastations and damage in the Palace from the angry she-dog in a horrible bout of Rottweilerhood have been denied, but the entire country seems to have considered the tale of 2.5 million Euro damage credible for a moment. Go figure.
I am, therefore, probably not the only one to think Madame Rottweiler will now submerge Monsieur le Président under a tsunami of unsavoury revelations, and … bite him as hard as she can. As the Bard said, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Particularly – though the Bard didn’t say this – when she is a Rottweiler.
So there you are: an angry Rottweiler now unceremoniously kicked out of the extremely luxurious kennel; a first-mistress-in-waiting who will not be allowed to be one, and is now also unceremoniously relegated to the role of First Booty Call; and, most tragically, a man who is called to lead a great Western power and is such a spineless child that he is terrified of his concubine, even to the point of paling for having pronounced in an interview the name of his once lawfully wedded wife.
This bunch of children, sluts, and witches is a perfect representative of the liberal society; people who play the good and tolerant whilst they destroy families, behave like children or sluts, live for the notoriety and power and fake prestige their bed companions give them, or are such spineless jerks they are afraid of their own mistress even as they control nuclear weapons.
Are you surprised these people reflect that kind of society always ready to attack Catholicism, and to glorify sexual perversion? What do you expect from a President like that: that he upholds traditional morality?
France is, hopefully, waking up to the kind of infinite ass they have sent to the Élysée Palace. One hopes for the future they will elect I do not say chaste men – not much hope of that in France, anyway – but at least men decent enough to know what is right and what is wrong, with some respect for Christian values, and possibly with some balls to boot.
Still, it’s a democracy, and in a democracy you just get what you deserve.
Enjoy the show, France. Enjoy the motherload of manure the Rottweiler will unload on your President, most of it very probably deserved. Enjoy the spectacle of the man you have put at the top of a Nuclear Power behaving like a capricious child, and he in his Sixties. Bask in the knowledge he was terrified of his mistress, and is possibly only looking for the next woman of whom to be terrified – pussies don’t change, you see; not at that age -. Wait for the next instalment of this Old Children Saga, showing you once again how rotten your society has become.
Still… perhaps there is hope. Perhaps the healthy part of France will in the next years manage to carry others on the right side. Perhaps this pit of insolence, stupidity, immorality and sheer childishness will serve to wake up some people, and wake in the French nation a new desire for at least basic decency. The Manif pour Tous is an excellent start, and it is branching out in other countries, like Italy.
For the moment, though, the French will have to cope with an angry Rottweiler, a Fitst Booty Call, and a Pussy President.
It won’t be pretty.
The French President, Francois Hollande, has a brand-new mistress. I mean, she is not so very brand-new as she is 41, but you get my drift.
Hollande must now, as they say, “decide” between his mistress and his wife; then apparently French Presidents cannot have both anymore, as they usually did in the past. Will he keep his 48 years old wife, who has already expressed her desire to keep her five servants, jet flights, and assorted perks of the lawful spouse of the elected Roi Soleil? Or will he go for the 41 years old mother of two, promoting her from her role of Madame Pompadour to the far more prestigious one of (future) Current Wife?
Ah, I forgot. Hollande's actual wife (I mean, as I write) has four children; but they aren't Hollande's; none of them; at least not as far as we know. Hollande himself has, though, his own children; but they also come from another wife; or another relationship; or whatever.
We live in a world of middle-aged promiscuous teenagers changing their official “partner” like others change cars; leaving a trail of broken families and wounded children behind them; not even feeling any need to apologise for their behaviour; without any idea of what it is I do not say chastity, but at least taking one's responsibilities and living like a responsible adult.
One begins to understand why so many of these people support and glorify sodomy. If you want to be able to do as you please without fear of criticism, you must allow your voters – straight or pervert – to do the same. ” Who am I to judge” is exactly the kind of comment the Hollandes of the world want you to make when you hear of their antics, and in order to do so every moral frame that would allow the moral judgment of the President and of those like them must be destroyed in the first place.
Middle-aged teenagers voted by middle-aged teenagers; none of whom apparently sees the least problem in that.
Welcome to XXI Century's Western Europe.
And it came to pass in France some smartass thought perversion makes for good business and, encouraged by the newly approved satanic legislation, decided to organise a fairy concerning marriage “for everyone” (note the attitude).
Now, what the organisers and those who booked the stands have neglected to think is that heterosexual people might not have a great enthusiasm for mixing themselves with pervs, and the pervs are very, very limited in numbers.Besides, fags hate fags.
The result? A catastrophe. Around 150 people have visited the fairy in total; the total of sales amounts to two rings, bought by a heterosexual couple. It appears the organisers have even hired some young people as “extras” to walk around the place and give the impression it’s not Fukushima after the accident.
What do we, the thinking people, learn from the episode?
1. The vast majority of people, even in a heavily secularised country like France, does not care a straw for perverts. What sways them in the wrong direction is all the screaming about “homophobia”, and the desire to feel vaguely “good”; but really, it appears most of them they do not care one Hollande.
2. If there were the courage to call a pervert a pervert, and this were made clearly and insistently instead of saying “who am I to judge”, this issue could be dealt with in just a few years. Then we could move on to the next interesting step: the destruction of the career of all those clergymen and politicians who have used sexual perversion to promote their own personal advancement.
Alas, it will not happen. As long as the perception is there that it pays to insult God’s laws, there will be no scarcity of people ready to do it from the parliamentary seat, the pulpit, or the Popemobile.
You would not believe it, but there are journalists on this world able to describe Pope Benedict “hardliner” because he says (Pope Benedict almost never does anything effective, but every now and then says something right; in this following the style of his apparently soon-to-be-beatified predecessor Paul VI) that homo marriage threaten “the future of humanity” (very bad theology by the way) and, in good substance, shows some apprehension for the measures the leftie regime of Monsieur Hollande wants to introduce.
I can’t avoid wondering how the very same Pope would be described if he began to do something rather than merely talking about apocalyptic scenarios. If he were, for example, to excommunicate all Catholic members of parliament and government who do not give allegiance to Catholic teaching on the matter, remove a couple of dozen of the worst bishops (alas, probably appointed by him; but just for the sake of the hypothesis) and start a day-in, day-out total war to the Government in a purely religious matter, would he be called, erm, hardliner?
Still, the most interesting point is another: how the Church in France will organise her troops in the battle. if they react to the predictable whining of the perverts by swearing how much they feel for them, and perhaps even that they in some way approve of the “good” that is in their “commitment”, no opposition will ever be worth anything. You can’t say the Truth by half, the truth must be told in its entirety irrespective of the risk for one’s popularity.
If the French clergy will have the gut to say it (well) straight, the chances of the message getting through will be much higher,because it will be a coherent message. If they try to stay in the middle, they will not persuade the ignorant (because they do not instruct them) and will utter displease the orthodox (because they refuse to instruct).
Early days here, and the cries of “homophobic” will certainly be an interesting test.
I am not very confident. Actually, I am not confident at all (just imagine fighting the fight for marriage with people like this chap, obviously appointed by Pope Benedict…). But you never know. At times even the worst are able to surprise…