What Now, Father?

Orienting on the beach…

The guy in the video with Captain’s bars. That’s you, Padre. Pardon my yelling here, but to quote the exquisitely portrayed lines “WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO NOW” FATHER?!

See those flames? That’s our best friend, brother, our uncle getting roasted alive in lust, because they never get a sermon to give up the porn. Hear  those screams? They’re parents who watch their children dive off the deep end into sex and drugs trying to get happy and yet all they got from you is guitar masses. See the dead on the ground? There lie the hearts of women and mothers permissive of anything because not once in their lives have they heard their priest exhort them to escape hell at all costs.

Hear that whizzing lead, Father? The grasping and envious Peronist paw of Bergoglio is on the trigger of that MG-42.

What’s that, you say, Father? Sorry, it’s hard to hear the excuses amidst the fire Catholics are taking from all directions. The Bishop won’t like it?  He doesn’t like it when his male paramour is acting catty, either. Is  the Dread Lord and Judge of History going to buy that on Judgment Day?  The Church Herself requires this beachhead, yet you refuse to fight, and you point to the bishop as your excuse? God help you. We too will help you. But you need to man up and save yourself (and us) from this hellish institutional dysfunction.

The overtaking of Her offices by Her enemies cannot prevent Her acting to save souls in the here and now. She Herself will supply the jurisdiction required. We’re right behind you. But we’re laics. We can’t absolve, preach or sacrifice. Only you can lead us. No? Too scary? Too much conflict? You’re not the guy? Fine. Then we breathe out our last sigh here in certain hope that a real Catholic, a real priest, and a real man will gather up our scattered children and grandchildren to bring them home.


See this photo? On my bed (you sleep here, I’ll take the couch) are the keys to my truck, some yummy provisions, and two increasingly worthless paper bucks.  Hungry?  You pick first: beans or ramen.  Half of 2 monopoly dollars = 1. That goes to you.  (Not pictured: the means with which I will defend your life as I would my wife and children)

What I cannot offer:

Trips to Rome
Spacious Rectory
Theatre Tickets
Fine Dining
Access to media/puff interviews
Dept. Chair at Fakekathlyc Univ. (F.U.)
Invites to parties  receptions
The high opinion of people that matter

Be a priest.  Get out of the captured Chancery until it is back in Catholic hands.

We’re still here.


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