One of the differences between Trump and Francis is – besides the fact that Trump is, actually, a decent human being – their twitter account.
Trump writes his tweets himself, and they are overcharged with his robust spirit and love for saying it like it is. Francis evidently has some kind of homo monsignor writing platitudes for him, and literally shitting five or six Dalai Lama wannabe pieces of crap every day. These tweets are pure new age hot air, as you will soon discover if you can stomach a fast perusal of his account.
Of course, this causes all sorts of trouble, of which Francis is fully aware; but do not think that this dissuades him from having his homo monsignor writing them! On the contrary, I am sure he enjoys the idea of riling up Catholics with them!
The tweet below is a textbook example:
There is possibly not one idea in this tweet that is not contrary to Christianity.
We don’t need the Holy spirit to give us new eyes, in the sense in which Francis is obvious intending the phrase here, that is: change our mind about what the Church believes. The Holy Spirit (I prefer “Ghost”, because I am fussy like that…) does not need new instruments, or a new strategy, or new actions of any sort, in this XXI Century. Human nature never changes, and our challenges are perennially the same. If it were not so, we would need a new Gospel every hundred year or so.
Humanity is, also, not one. This is new age, one-world drivel. We have an individual soul and this soul will go to his individual judgment. The outcomes of the individual judgments are infinitely different. Therefore, there can be no “oneness” in humanity more than there is oneness between the eternally damned in hell and the eternally blessed in heaven.
“No one is saved alone” is the last piece of blasphemy. Yes, Frankie dear, there is more than one saved, and the Elect certainly work together, and do together God’s work, to collaborate with God and merit His salvation. In this sense, their work certainly is a collaboration for, and in, Christ. But this is not what Francis means. Francis means that “we are the world, we are the children” (remember that most stupid of songs?), and we are like a cooperative where we need to lick the reprobate’s boots and adhere to their agenda if we want to be saved ourselves, because “one”.
Thanks, but no, thanks; and you go to hell without me, Frankie dear.
I do not read the tweets of the homosexual monsignor. But make no mistake: Francis answers to heaven for everything that the fairy in question writes, because it is written in his name, with his authorisation, and with his acquiescence.
One days, this tweet will make good comedy reading, and will be good for a laugh. At the moment I do not have the necessary distance, and prefer to pray that this scoundrel dies soon.
I did not know there are people as stupid as that, but evidently I was wrong.
The Poofington Post has an article about a kind of vegan/affirmation cafe shop clearly riding the wave of the many people thinking they can solve their problems, or their existential questions, with extremely gay new age bollocks.
Can you imagine a grown man going to a cafe and ordering his product saying “I am peace” instead of saying what he wants? Apparently, the server answers with “you are peace”, or the like, not only to confirm the – exclusively Vegan; only bad people like Jesus eat meat – order, but clearly mainly to let the sixty-Eighter in front of him feel so good with himself.
These people must be three years old. Five, tops.
The entire linked article is an involuntary parody of liberal America. The chaps “give thanks” to the neighbourhood supporting them. What? Is this Thanksgiving? I assumed that to be grateful to God for your prospering business on occasion of Thanksgiving would be so… un-Vegan.
The shop owners talk like post-lesbian feminists just back from their last Indian trip. They talk of their business as “making a difference”, which means every greengrocer was always a benefactor of humanity without knowing it. The entire thing stinks to the skies of the main ingredient of every conversation among liberals: the desperate desire to feel good with themselves, and to make themselves beautiful with others. No surprise the business is good: the target audience in Southern California must be huge. Ehy, the omnipresent “celebrities” visit! So it must be cool! I wish one day someone would make a census of “celebrities”, and tell us why we should care about what they do. Don’t hold your breath.
The liberal way is obvious: do not care for your salvation. Follow every stupid fad. Behave like a faggot in front of an audience. Praise yourself without ceasing. And most of all, think happy thoughts. It’ll give you a mini-fix for the next two minutes as you keep sliding away in a life without Christ, but making you ohh so thankful to your cat for making your life so wonderfully unique.
One of the most striking practical differences between the Church of the past and the post-Vatican II one is an alarming fixation with “joy”. I cannot remember one homily from Archbishop Vincent “Quisling” Nichols and obligatorily read from the pulpit which did not insist on the concept. I also heard it mentioned from several NuChurch priests that the best way for Catholic to spread the Faith is to “give witness” with their “joy”.
This is, obviously if not explicitly, as opposed to vocally defend the Faith.
The image such inane waffling conjures (at least to my eyes) is of a bunch of not very intelligent looking men and women going around with a permanent grin on their face and in the meantime putting up with whatever error or abomination they see around them. This is in practice what happens on a daily basis, at least in what concerns the putting up.
Please contrast this with the clear message coming to us from traditional Catholicism: a sobering warning about the meaning and aim of life, and the terrible consequences of throwing away the only – if long – chance given to us. This obviously does not mean joy cannot have its place at the table of life; merely that things are a bit more serious and complicated than senseless feel-good waffle for the uninstructed masses (who should remain so).
This obsession with “joy” also has worrying new-age undertones as the dimension of suffering, on which the entire edifice of Christianity is built, is in this way all too easily downplayed or altogether forgotten. Christ died on the Cross for us, suffering unspeakable pain. Mary’s life was marked by a life of suffering not only in her (nowadays conveniently overlooked by NuChurch) Seven Sorrows, but on closer reflection in every day of her life with Jesus (ask a mother what it would be like to see her boy grow under her eyes, knowing he will be insulted, humiliated, tortured and sent to a most horrible death).
For centuries, saints and common people have offered their suffering to Christ, deposing them at the foot of the Cross with patience, humility and faith. It is easy to say that all this is not forgotten, but in reality this is what happens when joy, not suffering, is put at centre stage.
Then there is the already mentioned aspect of the easy capitulation on front of the world this “joy” thing drives to. I see it here in Blighty every day, with the priests’ and bishops’ call to “joy” and its “witness” substituting every call for serious cultural battle on the many, many issues on which the Truth and the world collide. It seems to me as if said priests and bishops would want us to believe this world is an amusement park (note: new age mentality creeping up again).
I thought it was a vale of tears.
From this “let us have fun with our joyous message” comes the utter silence in front of almost every abomination, in the childish illusion – real, or conveniently pretended – that the “witness” of “joy” will do the trick of its own energy.
Hence, also, prelates like Cardinal Dolan, a man who seems to insist in giving a public perception of himself as permanently exhilarated, no doubt a direct consequence of his so heartily felt “joy” (the wine at the Al Smith banquet must have been good, though..). In an occasional moment of jaw inaction he should be explained the meaning of the old adage Risus abundat in ore stultorum, and I am not sure at all the Cardinal is an exception to this wise rule of common sense.
It is time our Bishops and Cardinals take on the real issues on the table and point out that this life is, among other things, also a call to bear every suffering God pleases to send to us – or that we have merited through our sinfulness and stubborn behaviour – with a Christian attitude, in the firm knowledge that this life is a battle, not a walk in the park.
Enough with the feel-good waffle. Treat us as adults with a judgement to undergo and a salvation to obtain, rather than like children to be kept satisfied.