I was on a boat taking a sunset cruise around Sarasota Bay this evening when a friend texted me the following.
Benedict dead.
I presumed he was talking about the Holy Father. I began searching furiously and found nothing at all.
Turns out to have been a “hoax” but my gut instinct is to call it a false flag.
More to come…
Tagged Benedict XVI
I am so blessed In so many ways. Both my father and father-in-law are dead. That may seem morbid but… That also means I am both the son and the son-in-law of two widows. Two wonderful and incredible widows. And every day I get to offer my daily mass intention for my wife, children, and our mothers. Remember, abusing the widow is one of only four sins that cry out to heaven for vengeance. So conversely, caring for them must be the right thing to do. Fortunately I love caring for these two women who have both shaped me into the man I am. I live close to my mother-in-law. I see her every day at mass. I am 44 years-old yet I still learn from her. I respect her and honor her and teach my children to do the same. I live 1500 miles from my mom but I love her (obviously) and respect her and honor her and teach my children to do the same. They are both magnificent ladies and I am blessed that I can help pray for and care for them in any way God allows.
Today, Sunday, I got up and headed out of the condo we stayed at in Bonita Springs, Florida. We had been attending an FSSP parish for daily Mass while here. Their Sunday Masses are early so we decided to drive north toward Sarasota and visit the FSSP parish there for a 12:30 Mass. Don’t you know that their 12:30 was cancelled today? Trying to remember that as father I am sort of like the episcopal head of my household (at least according to Augustine), I stood up in the empty church and read the introit, epistle, and Gospel and then lead my family in a Latin rosary. We even chanted the Salve. Being after noon, we looked to find another TLM to attend. Unfortunately there were none.
I go back and forth on this one but I asked my Guardian Angel to help me decide rightly. I even checked in with my nephew who is also my godson. He was partly instrumental in bringing his old godfather into the Latin Mass. Should we attempt a Novus Ordo? Even these options were limited. I looked online to find one parish with a 5PM Mass. They proudly proclaimed they had a “Ministry for Circus and Traveling Performers”. Im not joking. A literal “clown Mass”. The other church I found featured a picture of the pastor on their “Welcome Page”. He was an older man, wearing a white button down shirt and jacket and holding a shih tzu. So he’s clearly a fag. I made an honest effort to get my family to the mass of the ages and it was cancelled. No, I am under no obligation to worship God at a rite where He is mocked by faggotry and clowns.
Nonetheless, my mother-in-law wanted to receive Communion. Understandable. Later in the day, I drove her to the clown parish so she could do just that. I even entered the church and stayed through the homily. Here’s what I heard.
*Remember, the NO and TLM are in theory different forms of the same rite. Then again under the provisos of TC they’re not. Can anyone tell me what’s going on here? That’s right. There are two churches. Got it? Got it…
In the NO Mass, the Gospel was the Good Samaritan. I personally read the TLM Gospel so I know it was not that. The clown priest gave a sermon that was 25 minutes long. In it, he said that 1) we should stop treating animals like they’re just food and in this way we can be more like the Good Samaritan; 2) the Church should stop selling her monasteries and this is how we can prevent the drop in religious vocations; and 3) all the people sitting in the pews should teach their children to love God because He loves them and that this is how we stop the loss of faith.
Let’s. Review. This. Crap.
1) Animals (especially the tastier ones like cows) are food.
2) We can stop selling off monasteries but with no one to fill them they’re kind of wasted. Also we could stop buying condos in London. Just saying.
3) You don’t have to tell me precisely but I guarantee that every person in this church this evening (30 max and average age of 70) has children who are already grown and contracepted for years because priests told them it was fine and dandy. See how that works, Father?
Do I believe the clown priest validly confected the Eucharist? Yes. And that’s why I think God is not thrilled to have been called down on that particular altar. Or table.
On the plus side, my wife picked up an examination of conscience at the TLM parish. It was on the back table. We read it together during lunch. We had a good laugh. There was one for the “Mr.” and one for the “Mrs.”. The one for the Mrs. asked an awesome question.
“Do I tend to my husband’s needs in so far as ironing his shirts and hanging up his ties, jackets, and pipes?”
I love the fact that in 1954 (when this one was written) the assumption was that I would have more than one pipe needing to be hung up.
Note to self: buy more pipes.
We went to dinner at the end of this long day. We’re just outside Sarasota. It’s like Key West but minus the public man/man action. I didn’t want to use the word “faggotry” twice in one post. Also, thanks to Ann Barnhardt for coining that term in one of her podcasts. I use it daily. Our waitress was a doll. A working girl who worked hard and had a smile on her face the whole time. I tipped her very generously because to not do so when I can would be a sin.
Friends, it’s bad out there and getting worse. Say your prayers. Protect the widow and orphan. Stand up for the worker when he is being defrauded by Amazon and China and Joe Byron. Manfully represent your heterosexual (natural) family by truly loving your wife and kids and in-laws. Protect human life with all your strength. God gave you as men that power to do these things. Call upon His Holy Name and He will work through you and you will do marvelous things. I didn’t see anyone oppressing the poor outright today, but defend them too!
Be men. Be women. Married couples, love one another according to the dictates of Ephesians 5. And husbands, you damn well better be willing to die for your wives.
And let’s put a nice bow on it – wear a suit while you’re doing it. I did. It was from Brooks Brothers and I looked damn good all day.
Be strong.
Let us pray for one another.
Our Lady, Tower of Ivory, pray for us!
St. Joseph, model for men, pray for us!
Holy Guardian Angels, protect us!
I wrote yesterday about a ramp up in positive Coof tests. My friends, the gayest chest cold of the century has a new variant and it’s called… ready for it?… BA.5. I’m not sure if that’s pronounced Bee-Ayy Dot Five or if the dot is silent and it’s pronounced like I thought – Fagatron.
I heard from my source in law enforcement, a beat cop in a large northeastern city, that several of his colleagues have also tested positive in the past week. Still think I’m grasping at straws? Think again.
My day was thoroughly amazing in the best way possible. I began with 6:45 AM Latin Mass. On that note I must make somewhat of a correction to something I said yesterday. I wrote “Go to Mass. The Roman Mass.” A friend reached out to me within minutes to ask why I was “hating” on him and his Byzantine confrères. First, my audience is mostly TLM Roman Catholic. Also, the point was more about adhering to tradition and not Bugnini. If you are Byzantine and you can get to a daily Divine Liturgy, do it. I had wanted to include a quote from Robert Hugh Benson’s Lord of the World. I cannot find the actual quote but it regarded the abolition of the Eastern Churches and it made me chuckle when I first read it.
I spent many hours on a beach today. Southwestern Florida’s Gulf Coast is stunning. Before I headed out I received an email from a fellow blogger. I had initiated the conversation by thanking him for listing me in his blogroll. Please visit his blog by clicking here. Seems he and I have a common interest in advocating that men dress like real men. Toward that end, I stepped onto the beach today like a man would’ve looked on Coney Island in 1910. Don’t laugh. Blue and white striped tank and navy trunks. I’ve never been one to want to bare all on the beach but I think this look adds an element of class to the whole “skinshow” that is modern American beach attire. If I’d had my dad’s old boater hat and a ukulele with me, well, I’m glad I didn’t.
Side note: I met an Irishman today who told me that I’d never be mistaken for having Irish ancestors. Apparently, the fact I tan better than George Hamilton and have blonde hair means I have something other than Irish in me (despite my thoroughly Celtic pedigree). I blame it on the Vikings.
And speaking of stepping onto the beach, the environmentalist whackos (God, I miss Rush Limbaugh) have succeeded in ruining a beach outing. Large signs in the parking lot warned that this was a “no smoking beach” because there were sea turtles nesting or some such nonsense. This from the same people who push a theory of evolution predicated on survival of the fittest. In this case, I am fitter and therefore I should win. If my cigarette butts disturb your nesting perhaps you should evolve harder.
I did strike up a conversation with two lovely women seated next to us. I connected my Bluetooth speaker to my phone and began to play my merengue playlist. I grew up in Jersey and this is South Florida after all. It turns out these two women were from North Bergen, NJ. We have mutual friends. They appreciated the bronzed white boy from 1910 playing their Cuban jam on the beach in Florida. They gave us recommendations for beaches tomorrow.
You see, friends, there really are no strangers, only Cubans we haven’t met yet.
Nuestra Señora de la Caridad del Cobre, pray for us!
Tagged ba.5, beachwear, Coof, Florida, men's fashion, sea turtle, TLM, tortoise, traditional catholic
I love being right and I hate it too.
About two weeks ago I remarked to my wife that several things were both odd and imminent at the same time.
1.) Joe Byron (AKA: Tuesday Pudding) and his minions/handlers need something on the level of Spring 2020 Coof-o-rama Drama to re-emerge on a national level pretty soon in order to implement national mail-in balloting. They need this in order to steal the next set of elections.
2.) Coof-o-rama is totally coming back.
The next day I got a message from my son’s boss. Side note, my 14 year-old son makes me proud every day. He actually wants to work. He found himself a job. It isn’t much and the pay isn’t great but it suits him and, at his age, it’s about the best he’ll get. He has told me that he knows a man’s job is to work hard to provide for his wife and kids or otherwise to work hard as a priest who says mass every day and hears confessions for many hours. Love that young man. Anyway, the boss informed me that my son’s supervisor, a 24 year-old young man, had “tested positive” for the Chinese sniffles.
“That’s odd,” thought I… It’s late June. He didn’t appear sick when I saw him earlier in the day. Also, it’s late June.
Three days later, a friend of mine texted to tell me that she and two of her daughters had all tested positive for Wuhan Wing Wang. Of her two girls, the younger is 14 months-old.
Again, simply odd. A 14 month-old?
This is bullshit as my sister’s yellow lab Bates would say. Of course, he says it under his breath and in dog.
I immediately connected the dots and told my wife. First, why in the world is anyone getting tested for this nonsense at this point? You KNOW the tests are all engineered to report whatever the hell they want to hear. If you’re under the weather, take your viatmins, get some sun (remember it is now JULY), grab your Ivermectin, and get well.
Also, isn’t it funny how, after a lull, this gay virus is roaring back like a drag queen being pushed out of a library by a group of real men with kids? He’ll be thrashing and fur and feathers will fly but in the end, if we hold firm, we can drive him back to the pit of hell.
So today I came across the following news from Texas while I was enjoying sleeping in on my vacation in Florida. By the way, sleeping in doesn’t actually exist since I get up every morning at 6 for the Angelus. Fr. Ripperger mentioned doing that in a video. He said it is particularly powerful at protecting a man’s family from demonic attack. Who am I to argue?
So anyway, listen, don’t say you didn’t know. What can we do about it? Well for starters, don’t get one of those ridiculous tests. Here I’ll save you the trouble. It’s positive. There you go. If you’re sick, take your vitamins and get into the sun. I cannot repeat that enough. Don’t you dare wear that Masonic face burqa. Say your prayers. Men, triple your efforts. We’re in this together. 15 decades. Every day. It’s that important if you love your family. Live your life. Pray for the reactivation of your confirmation. in particular ask God to give you strength (physical and spiritual) and wisdom. GO TO MASS. EVERY DAY. THE ROMAN MASS.
The evil ones spell out their plans because it gets them off. Use that knowledge and make your plans.
Remember that the great saints prayed to live in our times. And here we are.
God bless us and the Virgin protect us!
Tagged ba.5, Covid, ivermectin, manliness, rosary, TLM, traditional catholic
Today marked 15 years since Pope Benedict XVI issued his landmark motu proprio Summorum Pontificum. That document stated that 1) the ancient mass had not been abrogated and 2) no priest of the Roman Rite needed any special permission to use the old missal.
I remember when this document was released. It was one week before my wedding day. I did not fully grasp its significance at the time.
Today, on this anniversary, I went to Latin Mass as I have almost every day for the past four years.
Thank you, Holy Father!
If you haven’t figured it out yet, I urge you to pray earnestly. Ask the Blessed Mother to help you discern. She will dispense Wisdom and Counsel from her Son. Use your intellect. God gave you a rational mind for just this purpose. Reflect. sit in silence before the Blessed Sacrament and ask Him to enlighten you.
He has but one Vicar on the earth. Who is that man?
Is it the one who lives in the “enclosure of Peter”, giving his own Apostolic Blessing, wearing the trappings of the Petrine office? Is it one who has rejected the Catholic faith and teaches others so to do?
Is it the man who affirmed the right of Roman priests to say the Roman mass or is it the one who name calls and gets nasty and promotes every manner of abuse?
To that point, I came across a picture from the last time I was in Southern California. Take a look and read carefully the original caption from that day – July 7, 2019.
You know the answer to the question above. Coincidentally, the church in that picture and the mass I attended therein were among the reasons I decided I was done with NO. At the time I was still hoping mutual enrichment would magically happen.
Pray.
Fast.
God save Thy people.
Holy Mother of God, shield us with thy mantle.
St. Michael, call down the legions of angels at thy command to protect us and Pope Benedict XVI, the one and only Vicar of Christ since 2005 whether he likes it or not.
I am so intrigued by the number of comments surrounding my posts about how I believe men should dress. I’d like to address some of them here.
A gentleman named Pavel commented on my last post. He stated that, “If you have no money, it is hard to dress right.” well, Pavel, that’s only half true. Let me explain.
As a home-schooled young man many years ago, I made many trips to the library. I’m talking about the actual library. This was in the early 1990’s, just prior to the internet’s ubiquitousness as we know it today. We had to do this thing called research. It involved card catalogs and microfiche and interacting with people behind desks. During one of my journeys downtown to the main branch (complete with actual stacks) I ended up taking out a book on etiquette. It was, in fact, the book on etiquette – Emily Post’s Etiquette.
I found it fascinating. Look, I was homeschooled. The freedom I was given over my own didache meant I could follow all kinds of interests. I saw the title on the shelf while looking for something else and was intrigued. So I checked it out.
The first lines of the book stood out to me not only because they made so much sense as to be self-evident, but also because they seemed contrary to everything I’d ever heard about the subject. I will paraphrase.
“Etiquette is nothing more than making the people around you as comfortable as possible within the bounds of good taste.”
That’s a great rule to live by. Miss Post herself was spelling out the formula right off the bat. It didn’t matter if you knew whether or not to extend a hand to a lady who hadn’t introduced herself first or whether you should use the tiny fork first. If you used your common sense and your cogitative powers and if your intention was to practice fraternal Charity (setting others at ease in a tense social setting), then you’ve already won. I have used that advice in life so many times it isn’t funny.
And good dress is like an extension of good manners.
Think about it.
1) Common Sense: dress appropriately for your state in life and the task at hand. I’ve talked a lot about wearing a jacket to daily mass. I would not wear that same jacket while digging a trench. Duh.
2) Cogitative Powers: Think before you dress. God gave you the ability to reason and to discern. Who are you? Where are you going? With whom will you interact? Pull it all together and make your decision. Is the thing I would like to wear outside the bounds of my budget? Then be prudent.
3) Fraternal Charity: This goes both ways. Dress in a way to put others at ease but also remember that others should never be offended when you’ve done your best. I’ve seen college students (proverbially poor) show up to events looking phenomenal because they wore the best of what they have and they held their heads high with dignity. I’ve also seen millionaires (in fact, a well known Catholic TV personality) show up to Sunday mass week after week dressed to golf – because that’s where he was going immediately after mass. The thing is, I knew he owned suits far nicer than mine. It bothered me.
Pavel, if you are short on cash at the moment, do not fret. Cleanliness and being your best do not cost a dime. I remember reading stories of the saints when I was a boy. I was amazed at how, for instance, the father of St. Catherine Laboure, despite laboring in the fields, kept one nice set of clothes to wear on Sunday. It wasn’t “fancy” but it was his best. Seriously, Pavel, email me and I’ll help you figure it out. More than anything, it’s an attitude.
So to drive home the point about the appropriateness of one’s attire… While traveling across the southern tip of Florida today we stopped in the Everglades and took a tour on a fan boat. Our pilot stopped within a few feet of a gator who hissed at me. I thought I would die. But for that excursion, I was in shorts, a tee shirt, and a ball cap. I was in a literal swamp.
Hours later, I found myself at St. Agnes church in Naples, FL. This is the location where Corpus Christi Latin Mass Parish has a daily Mass. I pulled into a gas station, went inside, and, you guessed it, changed into a shirt and trousers with a jacket. I’ve got one jacket with me this week as I travel light but it works for its purpose.
Also, the Mass was pretty well-attended. This makes me happy to see packed Latin Masses. I will be there every day this week. So for a fun experiment, if you also worship at this parish and you see a stranger in a light blue sports coat, don’t be afraid to approach him after mass and say hello. If, however, you think his writing is garbage, then approach the older lady in the veil seated nearby and tell her. That man’s mother-in-law will not mind at all. She just loves making new friends.
Virgin Most Faithful, pray for us!
St. Maria Goretti, pray for us!
A few days ago I wrote a post about how men should dress. Since I am a man and I wear clothes I figured I would start with myself. Today I put that lecture into practice.
The day started obscenely early. Everyone in the house was up at 5 so we could get our last minute packing completed. I mentioned that I’ve already started wearing at minimum a jacket to daily mass. Mass this morning – for my family – was at 7AM and from there we’d be heading to the airport.
I always remember my dad telling me about the golden age of airline travel. “Back then (pre-1970) people would dressed up to travel. It was an adventure and you had to look your best because it was required.”
Today, I dressed up to board a plane.
And I rocked it.
Commanding respect at every turn – from TSA to the concessionaires to the gate agents and flight attendants – I turned heads. It didn’t take much. I wore a light blue sport coat over a white dress shirt with a pair of navy trousers. That’s it. But contrast that image with the tank tops and booty shorts and general skin-on-display freak show that is a modern airport terminal and you will understand why I stood out.
I strode through the concourse with a swagger I didn’t know I possessed. My shoulders were back and broadened over my tapering frame. It’s amazing how good clothing will do that for you especially since I do not have a tapering frame. Confident doesn’t begin to describe my attitude this morning boarding a flight for a family vacation to Florida. Others looked like they were bound for a theme park from hell. I could have easily been heading to Mar-a-lago. And I want to emphasize I did not spend a fortune on this getup. The jacket cost $10 at a thrift store.
On the plane I sat back and took out a book I’ve been slowly making my way through for months. Many of you probably know it well. See the picture below. The drinks came free. I was not in first class but was treated like I was. I cannot say it was the attire but I cannot not say that either.
The best part about this experience is that, despite the soaring temperatures, I was cool as a cucumber.
I looked good and I felt good and people noticed.
This is how, in my truly humble opinion, we should do it. I’m tired of dressing like a boy running onto a rugby pitch just because that’s what everyone else does. For, when we dress our best, it shows forth our respect for others. A random woman in the elevator even told me so. “My you look very nice today!” she said as she smiled. I thanked her and smiled back. I hope I made her day.
Unfortunately my daughter and I encountered a perfect example of the opposite of this idea when we got to our hotel. We went downstairs for a dip in the pool. A young couple whom I will charitably assume are misguided sauntered past us. The guy was wearing knee-length board shorts. His lady friend appeared to have been clad in dental floss. I turned to my daughter and asked (quite cattily), “Ever hear of side boob?” She nodded and laughed. “That poor thing is missing so much fabric, she’s got underboob.” My daughter laughed heartily and replied, “And her butt’s falling out too.” Forgive the off-color tone but we decided to write an action story based on what we witnessed. It will be called The Adventures of Underboob and Sideass. Hey, we had to witness it so you get to hear about it. It will be tastefully written. No illustrations though.
Seriously, folks. Modesty means covering the things that God intends to be revealed only to certain people or for certain purposes. I’ve said before that suits make a man look more manly. See the remark about my tapering frame above. And there is nothing more beautiful or feminine than a modestly dressed woman.
And once again the Blessed Mother will come through for me. I’ve already lined up daily Latin masses for every day of this trip.
God is good to me – far better than I deserve.
Men, suit up. It’s your duty.
Mother Most Pure, pray for us!
St. Christopher, pray for us!
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 