Two afternoons ago, I walked into my house after running errands to discover my 14 year-old son sitting at the counter in the kitchen and poring over documents. To be honest he looked like a cross between a 1950’s TV lawyer and an 1890’s dime store novel detective. If he’d had a monocle, he would’ve been wearing it.
“What on earth is all this?” I asked.
My boy, really my young man, looked up briefly, locked eyes with me, and folded his hands.
“Father,” he said pensively, “I’ve purchased a square foot of land in Scotland.”
My expression changed rather quickly to one bit of bewilderment but of absolute befuddlement.
“Huh?” was all I could muster.
He paused a moment and then capped his initial statement of his real estate prowess with the following.
On Canon212 just now is a link to an article detailing the fate of the ancient Mass in the diocese of Metuchen (NJ).
First, Metuchen… This diocese was carved out of the Trenton Diocese in 1981 and received as its first ordinary a young-ish auxiliary bishop from New York named Ted McCarrick. McCarrick remained at the helm of the fledgling diocese covering affluent suburban Central New Jersey until he was transferred to Newark in 1986. The diocese was then headed by Bishop Reese (*correction: Hughes, Reese was bishop of the neighboring Trenton Diocese at the time*) who was succeeded by Bishop Vincent dePaul Breen, a man who suffered from early-onset dementia, at one point even forgetting the name of a young man he was ordaining to the priesthood – DURING THE ORDINATION RITE! I know this because I know the man it happened to as we had been classmates in seminary. Breen was followed by Bishop Paul Bootkoski (one of McCarrick’s auxiliaries in Newark who had served as Newark’s administrator for almost a year until the arrival there of Archbishop John Myers. Bootkoski had intimate knowledge of McCarrick’s crimes and had even been involved in at least one clandestine payout to victims. When I was in the seminary, the diocese was known to the candidates for priesthood as “Much-a-touchin'”. The current ordinary is a man who excused his flock from the meager obligation to abstain from eating meat on the remaining Fridays of Lent in 2020 because, hey, they had suffered enough with the then-just-introduced Coof lockdowns.
Now then, the article on Lifesite lists as an alternative the chapel of the SSPX in Caldwell, an hour north. While this is certainly an option, it is not the only one. I personally know of several Latin Mass options for Catholics in the area of NJ in question. Due to the cloak-and-dagger nature of the current state of affairs, I will not publish them here. However, if anyone wishes to know where he may attend the Mass of the Ages in the Garden State, let him email me and I will reply.
My new friend Andrew from St. Luke’s Gallery (do check out his site and his amazing work) reached out to me this evening with the following picture.
I am blessed to have been able to spread devotion in any small way to this saint of the impossible. She means so much to me and, as I can see, to many of you as well. Know that I am in a perpetual novena for all of you. Please, in your charity, pray for me.
Of Teeth and Matches
My lighter flamed out tonight. It was a Bic. No big deal. They last a few months and then, well, they die. No Last Rites, no Apostolic Pardon. They just eat dirt. I went searching in my emergency stash – my top dresser drawer – and found, among my meticulously folded underwear and a treasure trove of sentimental things I will never part with, the following.
Imagine my surprise when I slid the box open to find not matches to light my Marlboro with but two tiny teeth in a little bag. It seems I know the Tooth Fairy pretty well these past 14 years and he seems to have left my childrens’ chompers there as a gift to remind me of some of the happiest times of my life. I needed to see that (especially now when my kids are practically old enough to vote and my reason for existence is questionable at best).
Upon This Priest Rock
There is a priest visiting my parish from Ireland. He said the noon Mass today. Pray for the priests. I was intrigued after Mass so I went home and Google-stalked him. Turns out our young Father gained some notoriety during the Coof-o-Rama by celebrating the Sacrifice on ancient rock formations along the coast of the Emerald Isle. if you know, then you know. Apparently not long after that he decided that the ancient Mass was what he needed to be immersed in. What a blessing to us in Traddyland! That did not , however, stop some of his detractors online from ranting about his being drawn into tradition. I found the following online and I share it for one reason that you will see presently:
If only it was an issue of vernacular language, you ankle-grabbing twit. Continuing…
“Primarily one of pastoral service”? You are retarded.
The priesthood is a sacrament whereby a man (you know, a full grown biological human with a Y chromosome, testosterone, facial hair, and male gonads who happens to not have any degenerate sexual predilections) is configured to Christ the High Priest in order to carry on the Sacrifice of Calvary. Pastoral service? Did you pull that line out of a Marty Haugen ditty or was it revealed to you in a fever dream?
Yes, pray for our priests who are under assault not only from the devil himself but also from his minions in the form of spongiform-brained hippie-dips with a slightly-better-than-DSL connection to the internets.
St. Patrick, pray for us!
*The original version of this post incorrectly labeled the St. Rita statue as being found in Ss. Peter and Paul. It has since been corrected.
A thought occurred to me this evening as the sun went down and I gazed over my house (the original post contained an autocorrect at this point that said Houston in place of the correct word house) into the night sky.
First a picture of what I saw.
The bright dot to the left of the tree… That is the planet Jupiter.
Now for a closeup of the right-hand side of the same picture.
The fainter dot on the right side. That is the planet Saturn.
Why is any of this significant?
First; the camera – a good one at that – doesn’t do justice. I saw both dots with my naked eye. And I knew from even my amateur astronomer’s experience what both were.
The thought immediately struck me that I, an insignificant man on a tiny planet that has seen literally billions of other men like me inhabit it’s rocky mantle, could behold such wonders.
Here I saw two objects, bigger than just about anything comprehensible to man’s mind, tens of millions of miles away and just about as far from each other as they are from me. And I thought, “How wonderful of God to create this universe for us.”
As the Psalmist says: “What is man that Thou shouldst care for him?”
Creator of the heavens and earth, have mercy on us!
This evening I am going to bed uncharacteristically early. I’m not deflated. No, I’m just scratching my head.
I’ve been watching coverage for the past few hours and here’s what I’m seeing.
The big winner tonight is plastic surgery and sodomy.
Have you seen these news peoples lately? Holy cow!
On the channel I was watching most of the evening, I saw so many eye lifts along with copious amounts of botox on both men and women.
Then one of my sisters suggested I watch Glenn Beck’s Youtube feed. That wasn’t terrible until he tossed it over to his correspondent Dave Rubins, a man who is in a live-in relationship with another man he calls his “husband” and with whom he is adopting not one but two babies.
So, yeah, I’m glad I got that little sticker at the polls today.
Folks, I got off all that social media nonsense a while ago. Sorry but I'm not on Twitbook, Facepalm, YouHu, WingWang or any of the others. Maybe an event will happen to make me change my mind like Peter and Paul coming down with flaming swords and commanding it be so. Until then, read the blog and if you feel a comment is in order or you feel like sharing a tip or suggestion for a topic, email me at email@example.com.
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