The death of David Bowie was everywhere today, and the Buggers Broadcasting Communism have not missed the occasion to show some revolting pics.
Bowie's clearly perverted mind was amply publicised. Wikipedia has the quote about his being peeved at not being completely atheist, and his experiments with Buddhism (note to the readers: many Buddhists are atheists). This is the man who used to introduce his former wife joking about the fact that they knew each other because they were “f*****g the same bloke”. Go figure.
But did the man change in the end? Did a death which certainly announced itself many months in advance (what a great chance! What a great grace! What wonderful…. Mercy!) helped him to obtain a Christian death? I very much doubt. The fact that a 69 years old is more worried with publishing a new album three days before his death than with uttering one Christian word about his future destination does not make one (cough) very optimistic.
I always found David Bowie disgusting and repulsive; even in that age in which many seem to consider a duty to side with everything that is wrong and horrible. Still, it would have been a great personal consolation to know that even a walking rubbish bin like Bowie could publicly convert and choose the right side in the end; it would, by the way, have been a great victory for Christianity.
Here we see, my dear readers, the real meaning of Mercy. Mercy was extended to him up to the very last moment. So much so, that If he sincerely repented and believed, it is reasonable to think that Bowie escaped hell. Alas, it does not seem reasonable to think that he repented and believed. Therefore – and bar a miracle that can never be excluded, but would be naive beyond stupidity to assume – it is very reasonable to think that, even as I write this, Bowie is already in the terrifying company of so many people he knew and who preceded him there; of whom – I cannot but think – one in particular must have greeted him with the very bitter words:
“Another one bites the dust”
Mercy was extended to Bowie up to his last breath. If he accepted this wonderful gift and died with a perfect contrition, he saved his sorry ass in the end, and we all rejoice for this. This is the great Mercy of the Lord; it is so big and generous, that it will be extended even to a David Bowie until the very last moment.
But if the “man” (I am feeling generous today) refused to accept the great gift extended to him, and died unrepentant and in enmity with Christ, then there is only one conclusion: the man is suffering eternal torment now, as I write this, and there is nothing he can do for it. Time's up, Davie boy. “Life in Hell” could be a great title for the next album.
He who spits on God's mercy will discover the folly of his action when it's too late.
Say your three “eternal rest” for the man, at least for the sake of his poor guardian angel.
And then shudder at thinking where the man is, very probably, now as I write this.
It seems to me the more The Most Astonishing Hypocrite In Church History (TMAHICH) feels isolated, the more he tries to counterattack with assertions that can only be defined as opposed to Christianity, if not outright blasphemous at least in their end result.
Firstly, Francis has taken on this disgusting (heretic, possibly blasphemous) habit of telling us that whoever does not follow him in whatever heretical (blasphemous?) novelties he preaches displeases God, has no God, is dead inside, or something of the sort.
This time, as you might have read, it is “dialogue”. For two thousand years, Christians wanted to convert. In the age of Francis, suddenly conversion is nowhere to be found. Instead we have “dialogue”, which basically boils down to giving legitimacy to error against a very vague hope that our blabbering may persuade someone to convert out of us telling him to hold on to his Koran.
Who the heck is this old nincompoop; this ass in white; this fat, arrogant, lewd old man to tell us that not only God has changed (an heresy in itself, and a blasphemy in that it obviously denies a fundamental attribute of God’s Divine Perfection), but that he is the legitimate authority, the Chosen One to tell us exactly how God has changed, and how we must behave in order not to displease this, erm, new god Francis apparently knows so well? Give me a stake, and I’ll show you how such arrogance should be fittingly punished (after due deposition, of course; see above in the fixed “pages” for more details).
Then there is the other habit, which enrages me beyond words (even the strong ones), of always comparing Christians to Pharisees.
The evil clown obviously wants to persuade you that the Christians of today are exactly what the Pharisees of yore were: wrong. As the Pharisees were stubbornly attached to an old religion, made obsolete by Christ, Christians who believe in everything in which Christianity has always believed are now obsolete, passé, and left behind by a new god and a new religion; a religion consisting in adoring the Goddess Of Mercy and Francis, her Fat Prophet.
These two heretical, and in the end blasphemous habits both point out to a core message: forget Christianity. We are in a new time of mercy, and this new time has a new god and new rules, and those who follow the Only God and the (forcibly) immutable rules are the bad ones.
My blood boils everytime I read Francis’ pagan preaching; a preaching coming from the Pope, of all people; a satanical cocktail of lies and deception that can only be explained with God’s wrath at his faithless and stupid children; so faithless and so stupid, in fact, that they even reject the concept of God’s wrath. It pains me beyond words that whenever this heretical (or blasphemous) propaganda is spitted by that disgusting mouth, I seldom read more than polite disagreement.
Call him an idiot, a nincompoop, an evil man. That’s who he is, and you know it. Polite disagreement will not make him stop. Worldwide ridicule might.
Let us say it again: the stake is what this man has deserved. I doubt it would be enough to save a man as rotten as this, but you never know.
I am, at least, all in favour of making the attempt.
Every now and then, the Unholy Father says a word or two about abortion. It never is a real frontal attack, because apparently we all know he is a son of the Church so why talk like a Pope; but at least it is something.
The problem with that is that the radical Neopagan ideology of the man makes his words sound hollow – or rather, appear hypocritical and no more than a fig leaf – even when he happens to say something which, in itself, is right.
Francis has been aggressively promoting the new “religion of mercy” for months now, and more aggressively so since the slap he got in October. This new, continuously promoted alternative religion has no place for God's justice, at least for the almost totality of people of whatever faith and none. If God cannot be imagined as doing more than slapping us on the wrist, every kind of crime will ultimately be unpunished. If atheists are saved if they follow their conscience, faith as a necessary ordinary requirement – together with work – for salvation is completely forgotten. If God is “in love with us”, the relationship between the Creator and His creatures that is so emotionally evoked is not the one of a loving, but when necessary severe father, but the one of a sixteen years old girl upon beholding the young man of her dreams.
Besides being profoundly heathenish, this thinking kills babies.
In this kind of New Age, “We Are All So Wonderful And Unconditionaly Loved” pretend religion there is no sanction whatever for being Stalin, much less for the murder of an unborn child. Everything is wonderfully aimed at a wonderful final destination upon reaching which we will know in what wonderful ways God wonderfully provided for all the people we have aborted, or gassed, whilst following our conscience or, more simply, whilst being a tad naughty and getting a slap on the wrist. God, who is so madly in love with us, will always forgive us everything, so why worry? And actually, who is everyone to judge?
This is what kills unborn babies. This refusal to put a woman in front of the atrocity of what she is about to commit, and to the terrible pain of hell that following one's “conscience” can easily lead to, is all Satan needs in order to whisper to the mother that there is nothing to be worried about, her murdered baby “will be fine” because “God is Lurv”, and she will obviously be fine because she follows her wonderful conscience where the Spirit leads her.
In the age of mercy, an holocaust of unborn children produces nothing but… mercy. If Hitler had been a woman he could have imagined all those millions Jews happily basking in the grace of God, and would have died believing himself a saint. On a smaller scale, many feminist and dissenting nuns do exactly the same; only, they do not dispose of their own Vernichtungsmaschine and must be content with accompanying – morally or physically – young mothers to the slaughterhouse of their own babies.
Francis does, in a slightly subtler way, exactly the same. His blabbering about a mercy deprived of justice is an open invitation to every kind of selfish cruelty, an “all you can sin” buffet without even the digestion problems, a new religion that makes a mockery not only of God, but of the very concept of religion.
Next time Francis says a line or two about abortion, use it to be reminded which side's work he is making.
Make no mistake: the just announced Extraordinary Holy Year of Mercy will be a feast of heresy and sabotage of everything Catholic. A disgraceful Pope who is probably realising that he will not manage to get his lewd ways in October is preparing, in case he loses at the Synod, a typically Bergoglian petty revenge: the ceaseless trumpeting of an effeminate, wimpy God crying all the time that we do not realise how much he loves us, and from which every thought of justice and punishment for men's sin has been surgically removed. Unless you are a Catholic, of course; in which case you are dead inside, have no mercy, refuse God, & Co. All this, of course, ad maiorem Francisci gloriam.
This is a holy year created for an extremely unholy purpose: sabotage. Nothing good will come of it, at least in the intentions of his promoter.
I will dedicate the year to an insisted trumpeting of the Justice of God, and to an increased reminding of my readers of the realities of death and judgment, and of the hell that could follow them. A hell in complete contrast to this kind of wimpy teenager boy continuously sending flowers and love letters to the girl of his heart and basking for days in a little smile of his beloved; which is, in short, how Francis wants us to think of God.
Someone should explain to Francis the meaning of words like dies Irae, dies illa, or Rex tremendae majestatis; and then ask him whether he thinks they find any application outside of Mafiosi, child rapists, and observant Catholics.
This Unholy Year is another major campaign in Francis' war on Catholicism. It will be a simple counteroffensive if his army is defeated in October, and the total war if things go nuclear at the Synod.
One day, this man will get to know that God is both mercy and justice.
As things look now, I don't think he will like that day.
The recent utterances of Francis The Destroyer are, if you ask me, potentially far more dangerous than the translation blunder about the “ascetic” priests. And this time, it cannot be a problem of translation.
There is in Francis’ observation an insisted reference to a “new time”, the “time of mercy”. The man truly thinks that times go on in blocks. We had the time of, say, justice, where the church cared about the rules. Now we are in the time of mercy; a time which will obviously require new rules and a new attitude, otherwise it would not make any sense to say that we are in a “new time” anyway.
This is first class, quality-certified, prize-winning New Age bollocks. And it profoundly undermines and seeks to destroy – like all talk of “new times” – Christianity.
If we live in new times of mercy, we must deduct that we are stuck with the Jesus of the old times. If we live in a new time, there’s no way of saying what should be preserved – and what, necessarily, discarded – of the rules given to us in, and for, the “old times”.
I have never seen anyone talking of “new times” without linking to it the aspiration to, or the demand of, profound changes. It is not clear to me why Francis, of all people, should not entertain such ideas.
And this is exactly what he is doing. As more and more Catholics understand this Pope is genuinely subversive, he must gradually explain to them why this is so. Enter the “new time”, conveniently used every time the doctrine flies out of the window. And notice that he tries to hide behind his finger and say that the “new age” actually started with JP II; an alleged fact the planet never noticed, and of which it must now be informed by Francis.
Now don’t get me wrong: it is always easy to pick one word here and one phrase there of some past Pope and say “look, he said it already!” Protestants do it all the time with the Bible! But as always, you must understand what the agenda behind the words is, and there can be no doubt Francis’ agenda is to pump V II with “mercy” steroids like it’s a Russian athlete in the Eighties, until Justice is all but invisible, and Goodness made a mockery of.
I can hear the Pollyannas already, getting all excited about the “new papacy” for the “new times”.
At “Patheos” they will be screaming like little girlies.
I might be wrong, but I think this “mercy” thing – including hostage-taking of soon-to-be-canonised JP II – will be used to justify an awful lot of heresies in the years to come.
The “new time” is coming. Fasten your seat belts, and pray the Lords he gives us back the old times soon.
If one throws himself under a train he has not “lost his battle against the train”. He simply chose to throw himself under it.
If one throws himself out of a seventh-floor window he has not “lost his battle against the pavement”. He simply chose to smash himself into it.
If one shoots himself in the head he has not “lost his battle against the bullet”. He chose to plant the bullet exactly where the bullet went.
It is, therefore, rather singular that when Philip Seymour Hoffman dies of the overdose he injected himself, the PC media should report that he has “lost his battle against heroin” as if heroin were something happening to one, and as if he had died of, say, cancer. Heroin just doesn't happen, nor have I ever heard of people injecting cancer into themselves, and being told of having “lost their battle” when they die of it.
Still, in today's oh so tolerant society Seymour Hoffman – a great actor, by the way, whose acting qualities I greatly admired – can die of 100% self-inflicted and self-injected heroin overdose without any major outlet daring to say half a word about the fact of life that this is just what is not unlikely to happen to people stupid enough to drug themselves. Heck, the BBC is even very timid in saying openly he died of overdose. Police found heroin near him. Nincompoops.
This timidity or tolerance in turn gives to drug addiction a character of normality – or, in the case of a famous actor, even “coolness” of sort among the slow of intellect – that will all but cause other people, equally slow of intellect, to drug themselves and die of their own stupidity.
Nor should you hold your breath waiting for Catholic prelates – say, an Archbishop – pointing out that taking drugs is most certainly a grave matter, and it is difficult to imagine one would inject himself into an addition without deliberate intent to, well, drug himself. I am not the one to judge about the internal forum of the man as he was injecting his deadly dose – erm, sorry: losing his battle -, but I very much fear what a good confessor would say of the probable destiny of the man who put himself in such a state as to come to that point. The good and merciful God knows everything, sees in every soul and know how to judge every such situation with perfect mercy and justice; and Seymour Hoffman at this point knows his destiny, too. I wish him from heart he saved his ass, but don't ask me to bet my pint on it. Still, one point must be clear:
Seymour Hoffman did not lose any battle.
He drugged himself to death.
Say a prayer for him, poor man, in the hope he did manage to avoid the worst. But please, whenever you speak of the man in your circle of acquaintance, consider making some reflections akin to the ones above. Every little helps, and the culture of understanding for absolutely everything under the sun will only end when people stop having understanding for absolutely everything under the sun.
Try, then, to make, if the occasion arises, some observations like these ones. It's fair to say Heaven will reward you for the accusations of bigotry, intolerance, hypocrisy – everyone takes drugs nowadays, don't ya know – and general moralism that are very likely to follow.
Interesting blog post from an old favourite of this blog, Msgr Charles Pope, among other things the Monsignor with no uncertain trumpet.
This time the issue is about the lack of balance (a commenter says, probably more correctly, “order”, but the concept is the same) that is at the origin of every heresy. It is not that the truth proclaimed by the heretic is necessarily wrong, but being taken out of context and without the balance of the bigger picture given from the Magisterium it unavoidably ends up reaching the wrong conclusions. This is a brilliant explanation in simple terms as to why there are thousands of different major and minor Protestant denominations, each one of them – I mean, of those who strive to be Christians – taking passages of the Scriptures which might not be wrong in themselves, but have been simply eradicated from their proper context.
The examples made by Msgr Pope are of chilling simplicity: the generally accepted belief of the Divine Mercy and the more and more often downplayed or outright refused concept of judgment and, possibly, hell.
One doesn’t need to say that our refusal to see the point will not make the point any less real when the appropriate time comes.
In pure Catholic fashion, we are then reminded of the virtue of hope and of its proper understanding as opposed to presumption and despair. At the same time, Msgr Pope ends his message with another pleasantly chilling memento, this time in form of a song.
I must here admit (probably earning the boos of the American readers) that I didn’t know the song. I found it so hauntingly beautiful that I listened to it several times. I cannot resist the temptation to post the video here.