Tag Archives: Barnhardt

Calling Evil By It’s Name

I posted my last article on Gloria.TV as I usually do. The reaction in the comments was interesting to say the least. First, I want to state that I respect the points of view of the commenters. However I disagree with the points made by some.

There was pearl clutching about the use of the word “faggot”. Actually, it wasn’t my use of that word but that of another writer, Miss Ann Barnhardt. I will say that although I have corresponded with Miss B. a few times over the past year, we have not met and I wouldn’t consider us to be friends. She has graciously reposted my work on occasion and has always been most cordial in her replies. I greatly admire her work – all of it – and I have never encountered anything contrary to the Catholic faith in what she’s written or said. In fact, I consider her a hero and I don’t use that word lightly. I come from good stock and know several legitimate heroes.

The issue, for some, seems to be one of tone. As in, “She says words I don’t like to hear!”

Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Newark, NJ. Unfortunate seat of much faggotry.

Unfortunately Douglas, these are interesting times and sometimes we have to call people by names they have earned and not worry about the feelings we might engender. Let me share a story…

There is nothing charitable in coddling the enemies of God. I was indoctrinated as a child not to use words such as “faggot”, “queer”, etc. Funny but don’t the sodomites refer to themselves by these and worse terms today? What do you think the Q in that ridiculous alphabet soup moniker stands for? I will not pretend that there is anything “gay” in soul-crushinig, demonic, predation, especially not from among the clergy. I remember someone once referring to my bishop as a “homo”. At the time I told the person that this wasn’t “nice” or even charitable. The bishop was Ted McCarrick. I will ever more call a fag a fag without a second thought.

I am a husband and father. I literal exist to manfully protect my children and wife from evil. The first step in fighting evil is to name it. Calling faggotry by tamer names is not in my wheelhouse. Likewise, I don’t refer to drunks as “substance abusers” or to thieves as “economically oppressed opportunists”.

In fact, these evil men – not “gay”, not “homosexual”, not even “same sex attracted” – count on your unwillingness to call them out for who they are and what they do. And what they do is to destroy the Church and rob children of their innocence.

It’s too much to go into here but expect a post in the near future about Fr. Paul Wickens, sex ed., and the pillaging of virtue that took place and why he fought so hard against it. I hope that will help In understanding my point of view.

Virgin Most Pure, pray for us!

Get Out!

Earlier today, Ann Barnhardt posted her usual hot take/words of wisdom and as usual, yours truly couldn’t agree more. Go check it out. The interpretive statement, though, is that since the Roman Mass is apparently being suppressed in the hellhole city of Chicago, there is absolutely no reason to remain if you are a faithful Catholic.

I’ve been to Chicago many times. Years ago it was a happening place replete with all the things that make for a world class city. In the 1990’s and early 2000’s even, it was the beneficiary of the same circumstances that made for a low-crime urban habitation. Believe me, it wasn’t the Daly Machine either. As my late father, the actuary, pointed out to me once, it had to do with birthrates in the 1980’s. Seems there were far more baby girls born at that time than boys (statistically speaking). As young men commit the majority of crime, the crime rate dipped in large cities 15-20 years later, broken windows policing notwithstanding.

Ann called her that “dyke psychopath mayor”. In my repost of yesterday’s blog over on Gloria.tv I went with something similar. I was itching to call Lori Lightfoot exactly what she is but restrained myself. This proves once again that Barnhardt has far less native fear than I. So I’ll use the phrase “gremlin dyke mayor from hell” here instead.

Altar of St. Ann, Basilique Saint-Sauveur, Dinan, France

And I agree with Ann. There is no reason to stay in Chicago. And soon there may be no reason to stay in Dallas or Newark or Sarasota or Little Rock. You see, when they start shutting down the Mass, it’s time to leave. Only bad things can be on the horizon in places where Our Lord is persona non grata.

“But there are plenty of Novus Ordo masses in the Windy City!”

Can it, you breathless fool.

If I wanted to be “blessed” by a faggot holding an acoustic guitar I’d save myself the airfare and wait until Lil’ NasX was in town. Also, I’d never be caught dead at a Lil’ NasX show. How about you take your horse to the old town road and send it to the glue factory, Twinkle Toes?

This does bring up the interesting question. Are we already at the doorstep of the prophecy of Daniel? And what do faithful Catholics do when the mass is taken away from them by diabolical prelates? Folks, I don’t have an answer but I will tell you that I am clutching my beads, taking advantage of every Mass I can get to, and staying as confessed as possible.

And I think that’s the best advice I can give right now. Look, if they’ll do it in Chicago, they will certainly do it where you are. Make friends with solid priests. And when the time comes, be prepared to open your homes to them and to support them.

Holy Mary, Mystical Rose, pray for us!

Counter-Revolt HARDER… Why Dressing Like a Real Man is Easier (and Way Cooler) than You Realize

This afternoon I was doing my daily “research”. This entails sitting on my Texas front porch, sipping my gin and tonic, and thumbing through my phone catching up on all my trad goings-on.

I came across Ann Barnhardt’s latest post. I wonder if I can call her “Miss B.” like Non Veni Mark does? In any event, click here to read that post. It is one million per cent magnificent in its truth and timeliness. Here’s the quick synopsis. Ann argues the point that women need to start dressing modestly for obvious virtuous reasons, that doing so is not hard and in fact can be inexpensive, and that she herself is doing her part to get the trend of “these girls walking around almost nekkid, or in uber-expensive designer trash” reversed by, surprise, dressing amazingly. First sidenote: Going from Miss B. to Ann might be a bit too forward. I’ll return simply to Barnhardt. Second sidenote: Barnhardt has just upped the game for all of us. She’s wearing white summer gloves everywhere.

This all evoked incredible memories of my dad. I’ve mentioned him a few times. He was an honest-to-goodness real man and we were all blessed to have been born of him. To describe my dad accurately would take volumes so I’ll just give a sartorial overview. My dad wasn’t a hulking huge guy. He never played sports to my knowledge, though he did enjoy a game of frisbee or backyard volleyball with the kids in the summer. When you’ve brought a literal army into the world (there are 16 of us), you tend to do these things with and for your kids. Dad was incredibly smart. He was an actuary. He had a wicked sense of humor. He once told me (I was 6 years-old) that an actuary is a place where they bury dead actors. I believed him. He was a man of incredible faith and great dignity – at home with rich and poor alike. A daily mass-goer, a family man extraordinaire, a gentleman, and a scholar. And all who ever met him remember his class and style.

Barnhardt mentions that she was “born in ’76” and thus after many of the trends she’d like to bring back. Fair point. I was born in ’77. My parents, however, were born in the late 1930’s. They lived through the upheaval and the revolution and all that jazz. Dad never stepped out of the house unless properly attired. That meant, most days of the week he was in a suit. He’d tell me, “Son, you can never go wrong with a dark suit and a white shirt.” His shoes were always polished. He always had his pocketwatch tucked neatly into his watch pocket. He wore this to daily mass, to work, and finally, sitting in his chair at night watching TV with us kids. On Saturday he might be found in a polo shirt and navy trousers but always with a sportcoat and always a very nice looking one. I never saw the man wear shorts, sneakers, or a tee shirt. Every September he would grow in his goatee and every March he would shave it off. Even in his retirement, he still came to the breakfast table in a jacket. And he loved covering his head when he stepped outside. From the occasional Irish motoring cap to the wool fedora (to match his trench coat, of course) to my all time favorite – his 1910-era boater hat.

The man had style and a ubiquitous pipe from which he let out billows of beautiful and aromatic smoke.

More importantly, he respected others. He made a lasting impact. All looked up to him. He represented an ideal of manliness one hardly sees anymore. He placed my mom on a pedestal, honored his marriage vows for close to 60 years, brought many souls into being for God, took care of his family, and went to his reward buried in a dark suit. And a white shirt.

Over the years, although I’ve inherited some of his fashion sense, I’ve fallen into the terrible trap of the modern world where dress is concerned. As I write this I am wearing shorts and a tee shirt. Granted, I’m sitting inside my house and it’s late at night. But just like everything else the man taught me, I’m learning more and more everyday that he was right. That post from Barnhardt brought it home.

Now…

I dress the part. To every daily mass I wear a dress shirt and jacket (if not a full suit and tie). I will not ever again run out to the store late at night dressed like I do to work out. And I will be working harder to set those trends back in the right direction. A man who dresses well according to his state in life is a man who cares about others.

We tend to think that modesty isn’t so much of a problem among men but it surely can be. And on that point, I come back in my mind to the question of my PE wardrobe. You know, I live on the surface of the sun in Texas and by necessity I work out outside. OK, I will continue to wear gym shorts and sleeveless shirts when I’m lifting or jumping rope. It’s 14 million degrees here and I sweat. A lot. I also work out in the middle of the day when no one in my neighborhood is even home. But, as Barnhardt says in her piece, we need to lead the counter revolt and we can do it simply enough by how we dress. So, I’ll be thinking twice before running out to the liquor store in my “Biden can’t ban these guns” tank top. Come on, that’s pretty funny.

I learned from my father that men who are bold set trends, they do not follow them. Dad had no shortage of courage and just a dash of “I’m not concerned with what you think”. In the late 1980’s he and my mom headed out to his office client Christmas party. It was a big deal. His bosses spared no expense and hired incredible entertainment. Dad wore his tuxedo. Mom got after him a bit. “Honey, it didn’t say it was black tie.” He replied, “Doesn’t matter. It should be.” He was the only man in a tux that night. Within five years, it was mandatory. The entertainment that year? Dad came home and when asked who had performed said, “Some no talent clown named Michael McDonald.” And everyone in the audience was in a tux.

I started dressing up for daily mass and I’ve noticed other men doing the same. The world already marks us as different. Heck, the institutional Church marks as different – “those trads”. Do it. What do you have to lose? Your wives will respect you for dressing like men should dress. Your sons will copy you because boys want to be like their old men. Your daughters? Oh man, they already think you’re Superman. Wait until they see Clark Kent! And pro tip: suits are designed to be as flattering to the male form as possible.

So thank you, Miss Barnhardt, for starting this conversation. I’m happy if I could offer my insight on the male side of things.

So, putting a hat on this discussion, Barnhardt has a great line in her post:

“The more I see fat, naked slobs walking around and rolling into shops and restaurants in slovenly garments that I literally would not sleep in, the harder I COUNTER-REVOLT. Hence the white summer gloves.”

Fellow trad men, we need to lead that counter-revolt. God made you male for a reason. Dress like men. Act like men. Lead by your example to show the world there are only two genders. Wear the literal pants in the family. And the tie, and the jacket. And don’t forget the hat. I wear one now just so I have something to remove should I hear the Holy Name of Jesus when outdoors. And the hat I wear to Sunday mass in the summer?…

Just a little something I picked up from my old man.

Throw Some Marlboro Reds in there Too!: Teddy, Barron, and Jorge

Today Our Lord and St. Francis de Sales have presented me with several topics about which to muse. So let’s gooooooo, as the kids say. Who am I kidding? I say it too.

Topic #1: Francis celebrates world no tobacco day (or whatever it’s called)

I am informed that Bergoglio recently “celebrated” World Anti-smoking Day or similar. So here’s a tale for you. Those who know me have heard this story before. I was just shy of my 18th birthday when I started smoking. Ooh, rebel, right? Although I didn’t know why at the time, the smokey lung noose of a Marlboro always seemed to have my number. A few months later I began my seminary studies. My ordinary at the time was the now Mr. Teddy McCarrick. Flash forward to the summer of 2018 when I came across an article in the midst of that man’s downfall. The article quoted several anonymous Newark priests detailing what they knew about Uncle Ted’s proclivities. Keep in mind, I had been a very innocent young man at 18 and truly did not know what lay beneath that festering surface and thank God for that! “McCarrick,” they said, had no preferences. He’d go after anyone. Fat, thin, short, tall… As long as he wasn’t a smoker he was fair game. McCarrick hated smokers.” A chill went down my spine. I showed the article to my wife who quipped, “I will never again ask you to quit.”

The Gipper’s doctor even told him to light ’em up.

So take your world day of boring people no tobacco and pound sand. On second thought, that might appeal to some of these people. I’m not saying the Blessed Mother put that first nic stick in my mouth or flipped the ol’ Zippo for me, but my mom had asked me to pray a Memorare every day for protection (from what or how she knew is still beyond me) and Blessed Mother sure came through.

Who wouldn’t put up with emphysema and heart disease to avoid being sodomized by a satanic cardinal?

Speaking of unseemly reality here’s

Topic #2: We don’t flex for the mirror. We lift weights because we’re men and it’s hard.

With all the stories about A certain former auxiliary bishop of Los Angeles and his penchant for being surrounded by “bodybuilders” I thought I’d take a moment to remind everyone that no man – priest or bishop especially – should be deliberately showing off his guns. Or his pecs, delts, tris, abs, or any other part of his body. I’ve said it before. Cassocks are brilliant. Not only are they flattering (black covers a multitude of gluttonous sins) but they double as a symbolic “tomb”. The cleric is not a businessman. He is another Christ. He is to die to himself for his people. What better way to remind him of that daily death than by entombing himself in black robes?

It seems the good bishop, in addition to surrounding himself with lunkheads, has been known to wear the occasional tight fitting clergy shirt from time to time. I think that’s actually an official Toomey cut. I’d tell you to Google that and vomit or you can take my word for it. I have a cast iron stomach. Eh, what the heck. I’m in a sporting mood. I’ll include the pic. But it’s not just Barron posing down the camera. On his staff, the bishop employed a priest who couldn’t help himself when it came to posting pictures of his oiled and pumped-up physique. Read that again. A priest. I will NOT include his picture because it’s just gross.

Tough guy…

Here’s the thing… I lift weights. I started a few years ago in earnest after my second spinal fusion. I find it’s a great way to handle a lot of things. It reduces stress. It builds a strong frame. It’s a great hobby. I truly enjoy it. But if I’ve learned nothing from the great Fr. Chad Ripperger it’s that 1) the nature of a man is to want to do difficult things, 2) a man needs to do those difficult things for the benefit of others, and 3) a real man is humble and the antithesis of vanity. Lifting weights is hard as hell if you do it right. What’s even harder is getting up at 5:30 to do it on an empty stomach. I lift weights to be strong for my wife and kids. It’s my job to protect them and to work by the sweat of my brow for them. I want any fool who’s inclined to mess with them to see me and think twice. And God help the turkey who’s idiot enough to actually throw down because he’d get his head bashed into the pavement. Repeatedly. Sorry folks, I have but one setting. Are the benefits to my appearance also great? Sure. This is where true humility kicks in. These aren’t my gainz, bruh. They belong to my family, from God. There is truly no reason I should be able even to walk after the times my spine has been taken apart and reassembled and yet here we are.

My advice to the bishop and his friends? Lift weights. And when you’re done, step away from the mirror and put the camera down. A further question here is why is any grown man taking selfies at all? I shudder to think of the number of times I fell into that trap. You live and you learn. It’s cringe. Don’t do it. And if you’re an aging bishop, especially don’t do it. Social media was invented by minions of the devil. Remember, Satan wants men turned into 12 year-old girls because he loathes the image of God. With every selfie post you get a dopamine hit but your testosterone drops.

Topic #3: Bergoglio still isn’t pope.

I was struck by the Gospel at mass today. It begins thus:

“At that time, Jesus said to the Pharisees, Amen, amen, I say to you, he who enters not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbs up another way, is a thief and a robber.”

Jn. 10:1

From the politicking ahead of the “conclave” to the Sankt Gallen Mafia to, my favorite and the key to this whole mess, the substantial error laid out in Canon Law, it should be obvious. And it is obvious. There are many who are on the cusp of admitting this now. If you need further resources to help push you over the edge, check out Anne Barnhardt’s brilliant work here, Dr. Ed Mazza’s invaluable contributions here, and even Patrick Coffin’s summary presentation here.

Lord Jesus Crucified, have mercy on me a sinner!

Mary Help of Christians, pray for us!

St. Francis de Sales, pray for us!

The Argentine Does Not Appear Well

Not to continue to stir up the “Bergoglio is moribund” thread but…

My correspondent in the Eternal City reports to me today that she has seen him at his Wednesday general audience and things do not look optimal.

“He looked sickly and thin. Didn’t walk around much at all. They helped him to his chair and that was it.”

Again, we’re not doing anything more than observing here.

Pray for this man. Pray for his conversion to Catholicism. Pray for the Church. Pray for His Holiness, Benedict XVI, gloriously reigning since April 2005, as Ann Barnhardt says “whether he likes it or not.”

Mary Mother of Good Counsel, Madonna of the Popes, pray for us!