Note: This link has some more important articles put first, so that the whole isn't always in the usual chronological order.


February 17, 2012: An account of Crusade through Arizona, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Texas, Colorado, Wyoming and Kansas, first writing after a gap of a year. A special point-of-interest is Laramie, WY, where the one-time media-beatified young murdered "gay" was according to official accounts the victim not at all of a hate crime but rather of a violent robbery. But as a local authority to whom we spoke told me when we were there a few months ago, the interviewer on Fox News to whom the mayor tried to get this message across talked right over the top of her. Apparently its not good patriotic style to reveal such staggering facts.

So that, alas, under present legislation and court-doctrine we are all doomed to lead all sodomites around by the hand, to give them several extra layers of police protection, and ourselves to be breathlessly careful not to offend them in any way, while the good and the normal must "shift for themselves". And all the while the "gays" themselves—as any cop worth his salt knows—remain the chief perpetrators and instigators of homicides the world over. Ergo, under present rigidly-apriori reasoning, the more they murder one another the more their entire repulsive way-of-life is legally reinforced and perpetuated, in an odious self-fulfilling prophesy in all regards. The law itself being skillfully used to fulminate their disease, to encourage their abominable oversteps of every sort. As mostly-imaginary "hate criminals" are always held to blame—materializing out of a media-investigatory genie's-bottle—so that more and more "safeguards" are erected around sodomy's hideous, growing monopoly over American life, youth and customs. Here being a terrible cancer which must be rooted out, all the while we of course "hate the sin but love the sinner".

But rather and as we all know the same hideous favoritism applies to the job-market with equal force, where the unnatural have every advantage, have first pick, but the interview-and-test results of the heterosexual are gone over suspiciously, as if to uncover some sort of crime or criminal or maniacal tendency. This is the kind of abominable abuse-of-Christians, of the good in general—a gross partiality rampant now for a decade in Bush/Obama USA—which made me leave grad school in utter disgust, ten years ago, where being "gay"-friendly—even if you couldn't put together a good sentence—was all that was required for a PhD. A higher-education where avant-garde teachers carry on like a certain flushed-faced Corporal of yore—a ceratoid-artery-bulging fanatic whose main financial backer was a certain Prescott Bush—an Adolph whose racism in particular came not from Germany but from Anglo-American shores, from the likes of Herbert Spencer of White-Supremacy's "survival of the fittest" lore. He who first made history some ninety years ago. Indeed, the whole Nazi moral-and-military blitzkrieg was absolutely loaded with sodomites: perhaps explaining the bend-over-backward leniency of the folks on an ideological-successor Neo-Con Fox. Nazism and ergo the Neo-cons being in fact—as is almost never discussed—the direct historical offspring of the Albigensian heretics, human-life-haters whose only objection to sex was if it resulted in the birth of a child. Leading Nazi figures having gathered often in southern France at the medieval castle of Montsegur where Albigensians of the era made their last stand; while thus too is amply accounted the tremendous reverence of the Fox folks for Ayn Rand, the in-such-quarters deliriously-enthused-over novelist. A Jew, of course, one whose blood-and-guts writings mark her out as the premier dramatist and apologist for this whole modern neo-con/Albigensian trend. While furthermore these anti-life revolutionary perverts are an incessant irruption throughout human history, along the rocky trail of the centuries ceaselessly twisting and warping all humanity that lay in their ever-corruption-breeding, tumult-ridden path: just consider for a moment the sodomy gymnastics of ancient Antiochene-Greek invaders under Antiochus IV, "set up in the holy places". While in foregoing history these fiends had polluted the habits of Jews basically from the very beginning, ultimately making them worse than the infant-sacrificial gentiles themselves.

Indeed, sodomites are ultimately vanquished solely by the sword of some conqueror like Simon de Montfort or by direct Heavenly wrath: DeMontfort having apparently slain all of Montsegur's defenders—for which they are of course elevated to the status of martyrs by not a few—but it was apparently because none of them would give up. This after the sickening "heroic" manner of the "martyrdom"-tinged sanctimony of their ideological descendants of today. While the Heavenly-punishment alternative is likewise being prepared in the skies for these moral-offscourings of the earth, and courtesy of them, for the rest of us too, as I write—and as is noted indeed in my writings to date—all this by their own ever-stubborn choice. Representing a breed which must periodically be eradicated by God's avenging angels, always by some form of incineration, precisely as in Hell: as indeed witches and warlocks—declared to be "devouts" of a "valid religion" by our pervert-ridden courts—are said to have required, in medieval adjudications. These satanic felons—cold-blooded "breakers of all the commandments", including the fifth, that they by definition are—typically refusing to give up the ghost except by that mode which most resembles that Hell toward which they are eternally bound. A fire and brimstone as at Sodom and Gomorrah, and as is now being prepared for an increasingly sodomite earth as I write. (See article on the Fatima Message in hyperlink above.)

Mention might be made here of "homophobia": although it isn't worth the time involved. In fact and as a moment's psychologically-unharried thought will abundantly reveal, we should all be mortally afraid of something which damns ones soul more surely than any other crime, which results in a murder-and-assault rate among sodomites several hundred percentage points above any other segment of society. In their deadly species of envy, their twisted variety of machismo, of sadistic point-proving, and so on. And a certain fractional reactive component of this fear of sodomy is indeed the existence of a fascination-with-evil which afflicts all the sons and daughters of Eve: much like the mesmerized moth, whose obsession with getting closer-and-closer to the flame finally consumes it whole and entire. Hence they who play around the fiery edges of sodomy—presumably, in their own estimation, proving their metal in some way—are fools, and not the moderate and even-handed wise that they obviously imagine themselves to be. While furthermore it is a yawningly-familiar commonplace that the most macho imaginable of beefy athletes and others of their kind are the first to turn colors, to become embarrassed, around the effeminate, with many turning purple in a trice. So this has nothing whatever to do with machismo, but a whole lot to do with "keeping oneself unspotted from this world". Indeed we should get embarrassed around these people, as sodomy is really only the last dredges of sexual impurity, one which begins, as Scripture tells us so pointedly, with a wallowing in natural sex, with which the "paint the town red" sinner thenceforth ultimately "tires". Rather do we defend ourselves from sodomy's foul embrace by cultivating good, positive, civilized manners and speech, by prizing sexual purity, modesty-of-dress, humility-of-comportment, by learning to be gentle and kind, not rude and overbearing. Gentleness, indeed a certain sweetness-of-personality, are the natural cousins of immaculate purity, as witnessed in Our Blessed Lady, are fragrant essences of the very odor of sanctity of the saints. True manhood and womanhood being on all scores the very opposite of the morbidity, the testiness, the sadism which is sodomy's death-dealing stock-in-trade.

Indeed, you get a crash course in this whole subject if you in any way begin to test the perimeters of the divine, of the spiritual life: as they who "practice prayer" (as St. Teresa of Avila calls the Catholic contemplative life) are almost instantly set-upon by sodomites of every stripe. For the devil in these unfortunate perverted people—just like the citizens of Sodom itself, who lusted after the very angels who had come to deliver them their retributive deserts—are fascinated with the good, and especially with those who breathe the rarified, ineffable air of holiness and purity. As they think of themselves as "a cut above", that they deserve only the most worthy and pure, to dirty them with their monstrous sport. And if you aren't forewarned you might think this "gay" attention is your own fault. But no, it is the "fault" of your very goodness, purity, these qualities which make you utterly alien to this sick breed, thereby drawing to yourself unwittingly the attentions of those who must sully every holy thing, after the noted manner of those men of Sodom who lusted most after the very angels themselves. Ah, there are so many beautiful revelations in Holy Scripture, whose unlocking however is itself reserved to those alone who aspire to purity of heart, to ever-gentle Civilization with a capital C, who Mary-like "turn all these things over in their hearts". So much is being Mary-like necessary not only to true womanhood but to true manhood as well—fountainhead of the most redoubtable of warriors, but only where required, being otherwise meek as a lamb—that especially-devout Catholic families used to give at least one of their boys the middle name of Mary. As she is according to St. Louis DeMontfort "the vessel into which we must be poured", the self-same vessel into which the Son of God was poured, the exact model of Him to which we must therefore conform. A modeling tempered to accommodate our own frail humanity, with Mary now carrying in her celestial bosom no longer a God-man but a sinner cleansed, healed, sanctified by this Mother of Divine Grace. Mary being simple-but-sinless humanity, after which alone we mere mortals may aspire. While "in Christ", of course, "there is neither slave nor freeman, male nor female, Greek nor Jew": speaking here as we do of hushed spiritual things the substance of which, to quote Grignon DeMontfort, "it is not given men to repeat".

February 17, 2012: Second installment, chronicle of 2011 campaign of Anti-sodomy Crusade.

Our stop off in Laramie actually came toward the very end of last year's Crusade, during August, after having in February left a town in eastern New Mexico where we had wintered: as the roughly 3/8 plywood walls on our little rig are just not thick enough to preserve life against zero-degree winter winds out in the mountains here. First we revisited our beloved Arizona, making a round from Lordsburg to Tucson to just north of Casa Grande: where there's a perfect place to pull off and show our displays, right by the interstate, where three different state highways come together to empty into Interstate 10. Then onward from there after usual rousing greetings from the good Gila River Indians on the edge of whose reservation the little strip-of-gravel stands, as well as from passing suburbanites—who get a good look, having to slow down at this little kink in the road—people who likewise watch their fortunes dwindling, and the quality-of-life sinking, in Bush/Obama USA. After which it was back south and east to Tangerine Road, and from there to a little stint on the road from Catalina to Florence, then onward toward Globe. After spending a day in Mammoth, showing our Anti-Sodomy Crusade and our Law of God is Sole Source of Law signs, our comprehensive pro-life agenda, and the rest—painted right on the side of the rig, all of which takes a while to read—we followed the little stretch of about 100 miles along the windings of the San Pedro river on through Winkleman. Thereafter came the long and hauntingly-beautiful climb toward the Pinal Mountain pass, followed by the breathtaking and panoramic descent toward Globe, after which we stopped on the highway to Show Low, on the other side of town, at a gravel strip in front of the Pinal County fair grounds, and later on the edge of San Carlos Apache reservation, posing both places for phone-camera photos and the returning of hearty waves. After which we went back through Safford to New Mexico, stopping in that state for a month to watch the news and work on the website, and to do some carpentry repairs on our unique, homemade, first-of-its-kind little camper. And for my wife to proofread and advise, and do some of her sewing, knitting, sock-mending, and rare feats of culinary skill. After which we proceeded north through the state, stopping at our usual pull-offs, notably up the mountain above Socorro, and then back up interstate 10, near the Boys Ranch on the road to Mountainair, afterward stopping here and there on the road northward through the underbelly of Albuquerque and at various venues east and west of there. Later then, onward through Raton Pass at the Colorado border. Beyond which awaited us adventures such as we had never before seen.

Albuquerque and its surroundings provide some of our favorite pull-offs, and we get lots of waves, thumbs-up, snap-shots from phone-cameras, and occasional impromptu visits from these fine folks passing by, or who heard that we were there. (We even got on TV once, in such a place). You really do have to talk to Americans today in this sort of informal setting, for in job-related or other more-organized locales—or in towns becoming stiflingly elite-controlled—the protocols are absolutely ironclad. (Note of 9/14: we have found to our astonishment that certain places in Texas aren't at all this way, where one finds genuine Americans such as used to thrive decades ago. God bless Texas!) And any attempt to discuss serious matters, as for instance on the job, will likely-enough land you out on the sidewalk, to join growing ranks of the honorable non-sodomite homeless/unemployed. While furthermore such "free speech" pursuits anywhere in incorporated precincts is likely to require a "permit", to use a "free speech zone", confined to some postage-stamp-sized building or parking lot. Like some bizarre-and-doughty new Alamo or Bunker Hill upon whose soil to indulge the Bill of Rights, while otherwise at the very least such "indiscretions" or putative seditions will entail the owl-eyed scrutiny of the "correct", the professional, or the security guards, eyeing you with well-choreographed alarm. But out there on the side of the road these good Americans tend to shed all their harried inhibitions, to relinquish the breathless hype of the media/political world, to grow honestly voluble at times, and hopefully—and most importantly—to continue thereafter exercising these new-found abilities in constructive political activities such as are detailed here.

Something distinct about our Crusade is that we avoid with great pains any confrontation with the police. We love these people, and by-and-large they love us too, and there is really no point in getting yourself an entirely-unenviable police record when you don't have to. It's really quite enough to let people see the signs—which they see anyway even while we travel down the road, what with four-to-ten inch letters and all—and give them a chance to chat with us at these little pull offs. Thus a certain group of elites, on a road around the north side of Sandia Peak, thought they "had taught us a lesson, but good", simply by sending this deputy out to ask us to leave. A fine peace officer who was visibly relieved that we didn't "invoke the first amendment" and dig in our heels. For we had actually already spent a good deal of time there, before someone blew the alarm, and had had an enthusiastic reception, so that there was nothing to gain by getting locked up, without any bail-money, maybe for a month or so. And why make the poor cop suffer, who most of the time is in perfect or near-perfect agreement with what we have to say, when he is only following orders? Although I did shake my head when he came by, apologizing with such noble form as he did, a real credit to his department, asking us nicely to move, as I told him, nicely and respectfully as well, that "I wouldn't have his job", if it required such a thing. Since for one thing we are bolstering genuine, valid law out there, not tearing it down or breaking it. No rancor at all in my words, but I think they needed to be said.

One breathless lady had confronted us when we stopped at the same pull off several months earlier, banging on our door while we ate inside, asking me, when I poked my head out the doorway, if I "ate shrimp", and then informing me that I was a criminal for doing so. Thus another of the standard ever-ironic messages of these zany deconstructionist, in this case suggesting that to take exception to sodomy is as ridiculous as taking exception to eating shrimp. Obvious here too is the touting of privacy, of personal preference, just as in the case of abortion, eugenics or the murder of a Terri Schiavo at the merest nod of a now-human-sacrificially-empowered modern spouse or other family-member. As here is the real nitty-gritty of the whole modern "privacy" debate: do we uphold fundamentals of the guarding of human life and the honor and glory of God in our laws, or are they framed simply for cynical conveniences of the most murderous or profane kind, or as they said back in the school of economics: for the old robber-baron Tweed Gang enabler minimum of "enough law and order to insure the smooth conduct of business", and nothing more. This modern, Enlightenment-era view of government assuming that the state has no higher duty than this, that God is only worshipped on Sundays at church or in the privacy of our "inner chamber": in a radical segregation of religion from the practical affairs of life. (Will He have any interest in the worship of such as we?) An ironclad view which however can hardly accord with a nature meant for God, meant to soar to supernatural heights, but requiring—for this to take place at all—a certain modicum of an organized environment that is good for the soul, and not just the belly, the pocket-book or the sex organ. For there are plainly much greater and higher goods under God's own sun and stars than these. While of course under this coarse and short-sighted view in affairs of state and in the marketplace, in school, at work, evil men and the devil, their father, have by default a rigidly-determined absolute sway, under the thinnest veneer of restraint. This modern view "in a nutshell" being one which presently brings God's curse down upon the globe as I write.

But returning to this fanatic, after having her little say, she then set about pulling her pick-up truck as close to us as she could conveniently get it, so as to block out the view of our signs as best she could, as well as perhaps to discredit us by association—a favorite ploy of the wicked today, when all else fails—with the bizarre, hysterical, transfixing specter of what she was. Indeed, she vowed to follow us everywhere we went, doing the same thing. But as it turned out the folks passing by could see what she was trying to do, with her strutting and eccentric manner standing out like a sore thumb, so different from our friendly, outgoing and pleasant personas, her vehicle with radical-liberal words scribbled in felt-pen on cardboard, posted helter-skelter in her windows. This signature note of the bizarre on her part—like "the fool and his folly"—as Scripture assures us—quite inseparable the one from the other—this spectacle only heightening an already-favorable impression of us. Indeed, we earned from her efforts a lengthy stop-off from a fine gentleman, a "born again", and his little girl, and a great many vigorous waves and thumbs-up. So that when we finally left she stayed ignominiously behind.

By this time we had a little more retirement money, and so were able to continue northward through Colorado, stopping close to the north gate of the Air Force Academy, then on to a little below Fort Collins, on a beautiful pull-off on the frontage road, we were able to display the signs in a very readable way, and to a total of perhaps twenty thousand passers-by, waving at us as enthusiastically as we waved at them. Many of these people indeed come back around, wherever we are, no matter the time, traffic or trouble, taking a couple of exits, so that they can go by more slowly and photograph us, and maybe give us a bigger yell or thumbs-up yet. Although sometimes admittedly a few of these double-takers are quite hostile, and as evinced by rock-like faces think they can "fix our wagon good" with "the evidence" thus procured. But finally a very officious-acting road-crew supervisor, who had come by earlier giving us a dour look, found an excuse to work on the weeds just ahead of us, and thus to order us imperially off the little strip, in the private driveway of a guy's corn field, on a weed-less spot, needing no ground-crew attention at all. This pro-sodomy tyrant thus appointed himself a Highway Patrolman, as no such purely-civilian yokels have any authority whatever out on the road: bullies of whom there are increasingly many in positions of self-proclaimed power today. Like the one that time in an auto-parts store in California, described a few hyperlinks below, a sodomite store-manager—of whom in the corporate retail world there are legion—with his "lover" seemingly working there next to him, whom he had apparently gotten a job—shouting at me "not in my store!", when I was only giving a business-card to a guy next to me in line, while waiting to get a part for our frequently-broken-down truck. But from there we went over the pass to Laramie, and spent a good day around its precincts as well.

At one point on the 2011 Crusade we had a run-in with some very rough characters, in some of the most beautiful country there is. It was at one of those time when we had run out of gas: as we aren't independently rich by any means, and end up pointedly and deliberately depending on others half-way through every crusading month: asking no thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner, just a can of petrol, and maybe being donated a twenty dollar bill (it almost never gets to over $200 a month in total donations, and is sometimes a great deal less). For most people today who might otherwise be generous are too terrified to get involved in anything, for fear of being branded a terrorist or something—no matter how much they might love what we're doing—hence do you have a couple of stranded crusaders, sometimes for days at a time. Indeed, we purposely avoid collecting money on the web, which we could easily do, as we want this thing to be entirely person-to-person, and not to deteriorate into a lot of money-shuffling. The fact is we are all deathly tired of hundred-thousand-dollar media interviews, ramroded by smoke-screen-laying Wolf Blitzers, Bill O'Reillys, Mo-Joes, Gretas, perverted three-ring-circus-conducting Colberts, and the like—who give candidates plenty of chances to sputter vituperatively-and-expensively but to actually say very little. Thus impressively keeping up the charade of a free media, the pursuit of democracy, of the public good. Indeed we want you—and not just a few doughty or brilliantly-poised impresarios of the mega-million-dollar sound-bite—to get out and do most of the work of this Crusade, as we can hardly do it all ourselves. This public involvement being definitive to the organizational distributism described throughout these pages and publications: that groundwork-laying, under God, which can alone save this country, if it is going to be saved at all. Indeed, these impecunious stop-offs are a kind of blessing for the Crusade, as it gives us a chance to really canvass the area, to arouse the local interest, if only in most cases for a drive-by wave, a V-for-victory or a thumbs up.

Regarding the above-noted roughnecks we encountered out there: we only relate these little grim episodes to give witness to what we quite often undergo "for the cause", where we have no benefit of body guards or secret service agents, enduring a gamut from ribald displays of sodomites, to the abuse of the odd rare complicit policeman, to the occasional city's-edge suburbanite who fears a fall in "property value" for our having punctured the well-marketed euphoria that reigns on his-or-her "quail run", and so on from there. But sometimes its much worse than this more-typical array of annoyances, as in the case of noted strange menacing figures who would eventually try to intimidate us into going with them somewhere deep in the uninhabited Western wilds, and from our surmise probably-enough had in mind the taking and copying in the thousands of our social security cards and other documents, like readily-forgeable vehicle-titles and registrations, birth certificates, etc., for sale to illegals in thousands of dollars of effortless profit.

The mob is very much into all this, things which in a general way fit somehow into the category of human trafficking, and it doesn't at all confine itself to the more-classical prostitution, embezzlement, dope-pedaling, gun-running, theft and murder, in major measure plying as well bogus auto-repairs, for a host of reasons. With "mechanics" pulling you "good Samaritan like" to the edge of some village or town, or somewhere out in the wilds, then dragging their feet, not showing up for days at a time while you wait, so as ultimately to get a relatively-inexpensive "abandoned title" to your vehicle, when you can no longer afford to stay. (This all the while verbally-abusive Mob Molls are likely to come around and address you like worthless bums, trying to hasten your departure, throwing up your hands that "all is lost"). Or else, as in one case in our experience, these highwaymen might use your disabled auto as a sort of front or decoy in front of their "garage", attesting that bone fide auto repairs are going on inside. Where instead the dope-market had a wildly-popular venue right in the middle of a town, under the noses of the police, in a well-concealed room not noticeable from within. Being hidden behind recently-installed paneling, with some entryway not immediately evident. Exactly the kind of place into which, in our own experience, car-and-foot traffic went on all night: as we knew by the sounds that accompany such things. A spot in the center of town where you could hear them squabbling and quarreling all night long, like ever-brave drug-lords do: being parked as we were in back, waiting for the repairs "next day". A rendezvous where meth was being cooked, as we would find out later, when we prudently got towed away, from the tow-truck driver himself, who although unaware as yet of this just-then-opened "thriving new business", as it was no doubt smilingly billed in the local press, was instantly able to identify the "mechanics" inside as two notorious town drunks and meth-makers. Indeed, that whole stretch of Interstate was one long string of notorious meth-joints which were yawningly-common knowledge locally, with one place continuing to have some lady in the inner bowels of a big garage dutifully cooking meth for the mob, all the while the local "interagency drug-interdiction team" pretended that this granny operation had been "taken down a year ago". Even though a plurality of local school-kids, house-moms, retirees, and all the local deputies knew, and upon prompting readily acknowledged, that it was still going strong. While of course our haunting of these gravel pull-offs makes us witness almost every day to a host of "meetings", where some guy or gal parks unaccountably, there on the edge of the road, only to be met by some other guy or gal, for a minute or so, and then for both to drive blank-facedly away. Everybody knows about all these little spots locally, except of course the grandly-established, ever-vigilant "interagency drug-interdiction task force".

In fact, the Mob is just as much in charge here in the USA as it is in Mexico, or more recently in Costa Rica: only a decade ago a thriving little "model democratic" state, a temporary beneficiary of U.S. trade policies, having indeed enjoyed enlightened ministrations of men like the fervently-Catholic American Ambassador Tambs, under Ronald Reagan. U.S. trade however destined afterward to find greener pastures upon which to feed: so goes the roulette wheel down in Latin America. Only up here all the albeit ever grimmer, grittier and more tight-lipped appearances of "normalcy" have to be maintained, for which promotional purposes we have the above-noted political beauty contest which provides the needed thin veneer. Sic Semper, ultimately but inevitably, those systems which do not enforce that Law of God which is the sole source of valid law (St. Thomas Aquinas, Augustine, et al), but only that minimum legislation which will promote "privacy" and "grease the wheels of business".

That particular town—where the neat little hidden room was—was only small-fry in the racket around there, the bigger town further down the Interstate being so officially-complicit and brazenly-corrupt that this fine gentleman, the tow-truck driver, with whom we chatted convivially as we went on our little leg of the trip back home, our disabled truck bobbing securely behind, could barely stand to enter its precincts, with its strutting atmosphere of malfeasance, of letting the brazen criminal off the hook, of sticking the blame on some innocent man.

But to return to the roughnecks being encountered just then, we hold it quite probably they were wishing to eventually extort from us our pin number at the bank, once we got out there where we were ultimately invited to go. This because of a certain glibly-contrived standard procedure, if with local variations in style, that we have seen at least a dozen times before: indeed all the way back to Indiana, to whose western woods we were invited to repair by the same ilk, and from whose malicious intentions we were really and truly miraculously delivered by an angel in disguise. As for one thing these people—invariably your still-ubiquitous cookie-cutter boomer-tough-guy types—can never conceive of anyone putting themselves out for any unselfish reason, but must always view people like us who are willing to go forth in primitive circumstances as being—not some new political St. Francis of Assisi—but rather some vagrant out on the take like themselves. And thus doubly worthy of abuse of the worst kind, which they are ready to dole out to others "more worthy" as well. After which, had we actually gone with them, these highwaymen—whose numbers are growing astronomically out there as I write, and who do extortion as an alternate income to their usual meth-cooking and crack-cocaine selling, and who sometimes do you a real favor of some kind, in order to gain your grateful trust—probably kill their quarry. Or else keep them around for other uses.

Thus perhaps the elderly, dignified Mexican lady that was in the company of—if in utter incongruity with—the rough-cut female we encountered in this little roadside mystery, soon to be followed by her lover yet-rougher than she. While the noted Hispanic, a real lady of about eighty, seemed stunned and bewildered, but not really at all senile, yet because she appeared vaguely to be of the same nationality as the mob Moll she was with, she didn't post any alarm with us, as we naturally-enough just then assumed her to be the mother or grandmother of the latter. This kind of "taking along for the ride" of good but terrified people being undoubtedly one of the ploys involved with this distinctly-post-Kennedy breed, found out there increasingly on the road: older-aged victims any of whose suspicious condition or even pleas for help might easily-enough be humorously dismissed by their captors with a shrug. Or perhaps a careless, off-the-shoulder "oh, you can't pay any attention to Mom, she says things like that to everyone". (Just stop long enough, out there on the highway, in the middle of nowhere, and these thugs will likely enough materialize like proverbial insects out of the woodwork, and evince their oppressively over-done solicitudes and other shell-games out of their psychological bag-of-tricks. Which is not at all to discount the truly-good who might indeed stop and ask if you need help.) Only later, when this tough-talking lady caught up with us in company with her male partner, where we were again crusading, further up the way, and he began giving distinct impressions that I would soon have a knife between my ribs if we didn't go with them, to their camp at a mile-marker on the remote mountainside: only then did we "connect all the dots", and have since been extremely concerned for the good Mexican woman who was, as it seems certain to us in hindsight, a prisoner of these fiends. I called a local jurisdiction of the police, once we were "out of harms way"—a law enforcement of overwhelmingly good people, but who can't help who they have to work with or under, and whose departments as such don't deserve any shame—and was cut off in the middle of my little report of suspicious activity, to find the phone dead.

Thankfully we were able to get clear of the gang the twosome undoubtedly led, as we had almost certainly met a couple of their equally-surly confederates a day or two before, but only just barely, and only through a subterfuge of my own, as their ilk really don't want to have to spill blood if they don't have to: at least not right there by the side of the road. Characters who turned quite rude and demanding now, emitting murderous looks, curses, clearly-discernable threats ("you mean you're not coming?!", uttered a fraction of an inch from my nose, and with several other such aggressive gestures falling well within the legal definition of assault), as much as by clear commands. All the while we were being apprised of the back-breaking menial chores we would be required to do, for less than minimum wage. But they have probably moved their headquarters somewhere else by now.

As noted above, it’s a well-worn routine, one that is unmistakable in its actual meaning, once one becomes acquainted with it, and which has gone into much further stages in certain cases as well, in our own rueful experience. The main thing is they want you to go somewhere with them, well off the road, typically if not always into an unpopulated area: in this case so that we could "do some work for them": out there between mile-markers, among the switch-backs leading to a remote pass. An idea which I had expressed some interest in, in the previous encounter, although then being smilingly offered was the future presumably-well-paid performance of carpenter work, which we both enjoy immensely and at which we are both proficient: as we were thinking of relocating our own base-of-operations to that general area, and would have found a little extra income to be especially handy at that point. Although it was all very tentative, no connection at all having been made to any "deal" in exchange for the little bit of gas, which had from all indications been given solely in support of our Crusade, no questions asked, and indeed before any talk of work had taken place. As suggested above, most of these road-agent characters seem to assume you are "out on the take", just like them, or homeless and destitute, and thus willing to take enormous chances with your life. But we are quite willing to be classed with the impoverished, or even by some to be considered the lowest of the low—for weren't St. Francis of Assisi or the Apostles often thus belittled?—if only we may continue this critically-important Crusade, albeit conducted in an unconventional way.

Our first stop in Laramie was uneventful, and we received rather slight attention there, on the U.S. highway out of Fort Collins, so that we continued on toward Rawlins and Rock Springs. Just past the latter we stopped at a town whose name I have forgotten, under a viaduct downtown, where we got considerable shocked-but-positive attention for several hours—as you get further west people get more-and-more honest in their reactions—then ate a meal, prepared on our built-in stove inside our home-made camper-shell. Then it was onward toward Little America and the junction of U.S. 30 going north and west, where we made a stop at a pull-off perfect for our patriotic designs. However, to our chagrin, we found our transmission stuck in reverse, after I positioned the truck parallel to the road, to make our signs as readable as possible to passersby.

To be continued….

February 20, 2012: Third installment of 2011 Crusade.

Out on the Crusade can easily materialize an atmosphere like that of the old neighborhood back in Joliet, Illinois where I was born, on the ten-hundred block of north Hickory Street that boasted three grocery stores, one at each end and another, the busiest by far, in the middle, right across from our house. There at the very edge of the city limits of the time. Our roadside odysseys—in the midst of an alienating space-age though it boasts to be—recalling good-hearted people of the old neighborhood of my boyhood days, with nearby kids and others slightly-less-chummy but equally enthusiastic from down the block, who didn't have such big yards as ours, with trees, flower-bushes, hedges and buildings around and behind which to play cowboys, war-games or hide and go seek, as we called it, well into an utterly-unthreatening dark. Kids of the times who weren't in any deliberate way loud, let alone destructive, yet who remained blissfully unaware of any "correct" way to act, of which indeed a meaningless-and-contrived sort of school-counselor-favored loudness and rowdiness seems to form so important a part today. Certainly this spontaneity was standard among the utterly-carefree young, while like inhibitions were hardly to be noticed among ever-hovering elders, either. And neither did children feel any need to act especially childish, for fear of being pigeonholed as having ADD, or some other of a fluctuating score of such studiously-ferreted "conditions". Rather, and I have remarked on occasion elsewhere, were the youngsters of the era intent upon being just like mom and dad, and each was valued for the distinct element they brought to the little impromptu gathering: talking, musing or playing any number of age-old games. Companions sorely-missed for the same inimitable qualities for years after they might have moved away. Honorers and admirers of parents whose image had not as yet been seriously tarnished in reverential childhood minds, by that boomer-era media parent-blackballing that in remorseless Marxist fashion for fifty years now, since that mistily-remembered time, has "sacrificed one generation for the next". In this oh-so-capitalist land. But such vital neighborly instincts as were known so long ago are actually part-and-parcel of our humanity, and can never actually become passé, and crop up readily under the grassroots-level encouragements out on the Crusade. On some corner or on the side of the road, it's very much like the old neighborhood, come back after fifty or sixty years. You can feel the old espirit, into which we complete strangers are welcomed as heartily as we welcomed others back then on north Hickory Street. All that's needed is to break out the wieners or marshmallows, out there on the gravel pull-off, peal a few sticks of their bark, and build a little fire, maybe sing a few songs.

So much more than a mere mass national movement, what we are doing out here is rather to reintroduce a hospitable and existential sense of the here-and-now, of the respectfully personal and immediate, reawakening the old ethos of neighborhoods and cities, rediscovering the missing link of the guy next door, or the lost continent of the alien species, with their odd customs, on the next block. (Protocols can be exchanged with the folks in the next county soon enough). Finding nothing near so frightening about any of them after all. While from out of this social interweave comes true democracy, even as in its absence there is nothing really left to democratize at all. So that here the Afghanis have something up on us indeed. For if we think of ourselves as mere ultimate future limp recipients of gene-codes, as if this is the final earthly summit toward which mankind through hoary ages has aspired, or as crew members on some spaceship, mute objects of barked commands: then we really would be out of place around the bonfires here remembered, where we smudge-faced kids baked such memorable potatoes among the glowing coals. Escapees from a growing view of life—even back then—which "puts the cart before the horse", which glorifies a species of futurism or "progress" which would rob us of every sacred tradition, of every heartfelt tie, as being "backward". Which bombs Southeast Asians into little bits, so that thus made-to-fly they might know "freedom" as never before.

No, my friends, this is hellish chaos, nothing more. Never will the goods of the interior of man be inferior to the garish glitter of the gadgetry of this alien day. Never will some gene-code—cure of cancer though it might indeed be—come up to that kid next door who left for Australia, and whose certain noble manner no one else has ever succeeded to fill, in a certain still-empty place in heart and mind. These material advances—too often bought at the price of impoverishing some ragged kids in some other quadrant of the globe—brassy achievements which mean less than nothing if not closely co-joined with things of the heart, soul and mind. Mere things which for human beings can validly be only instrumental to things spiritual, things infinitely higher than themselves. In a temporary, terrestrial, fragile material world which even now, by evidence of its odd and errant rotation, careens through space, through a dying universe, on a journey with a mission which is eternal, its orbit as well perhaps hopelessly agar, waiting for the remedy of a divine hand. A world with real meaning only in terms of these heartfelt things we all once knew in so intimately familiar a way, which seem foolish, backward or insignificant only to babbling fools.

These are the Americans we see, faces from out of the fifties, come alive once again: really, it is true, out there on the road. Where, once again, "no man is an island, entirely unto himself". And that achingly-remembered world was alive just then, last June, on the juncture of interstate 80 and U.S. 30, west of Rock Springs, where we were destined to spend almost a week, and where the reception was getting more and more enthused by the day. As our signs spoke of something clean and good, that brings out the best, the most heartily and nobly convivial and unitary in man. Where each however humble keeps his unique significance, as if a rock in a rip-rap which keeps the social-whole firmly intact.

But the doom-and-gloom sayers would have their say, too, even way out there, where laborious official efforts were made to draw some connection between our image of the two Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, painted on the back of our pick-up-truck shell, and that abominable gangland imagery which stitches such images on biceps of gang-members, or as graffiti on buildings and inner-city-freeway retaining-walls. In a saga which would last a full three months, with law-enforcement people having been "put on our trail" by busy-bodies back at Rock Springs, back across a Wyoming over which we had to be towed, to find a mechanic we could afford. Indeed we were thus conveyed, and harassed, at last, all the way back to New Mexico, for lack of such a trustable technician, mostly at our own expense of some $2500 dollars, but on one leg of the trip by a kindhearted guy, himself indeed an ex federal marshal. In the midst of which odyssey we found unique opportunities to display our signs along Interstate 80 and downtown in Laramie, and here and there in Colorado, such as we would never otherwise have had. Modest estimates must put the figure, of people who viewed our signs, in the vicinity of two million or so.

I won't go into all the incredible frustrations we experienced around Laramie, as when at the truck stop we were so expensively towed to, the management would have had us towed away without our knowledge, in the first twenty-four hours, while we were getting situated in a motel: when truck stops always allow you at least a couple of days to park, or else what are they for? The manager was very upset at me when I finally talked to him, after being forewarned by a good citizen and anti-sodomy supporter, about the fate that was then being played out for our truck: which we could never have afforded to get out of a $50-some dollar-a-day storage. But most evident in Laramie, a year or so after the fact, was the determined effort of the avant-garde of the area to eulogize this sodomite guy who had the year before been robbed and murdered, and to make the vast-majority anti-sodomy populace hang their heads in shame. Always plying this note of the reverse-psychological—the sine qua non of a bankrupt movement—to distract from the fact that nothing more shameful than sodomy could ever be. The local Episcopal minister-lady, whom I must thank for getting us a motel room for two days, flew all over me for our anti-sodomy crusade, confessing herself to be a lesbian: and a notorious one, as I remember, having been heroically featured here and there on TV in foregoing months. (This recourse, of asking help of a church, is a super-rare exception for us, done only three or four times at most over the five years we have been crusading, and only in the direst of emergencies: as when our big and more-photographed camper burned to a crisp a couple of years ago.) But as noted above no one seemed to be aware that this month-long-media-blitzed guy had been beaten to death in connection to a robbery: probably by a gang of sodomites like himself, judging by the twisted species of sadistic brutality employed. Which is for ages past sodomy's very stock-in-trade, a fact of which our tiptoe-through-the-daisies educators seem of a sudden to be totally unaware.

Down the road over the mountain into Colorado once again, the folks at the college town of Fort Collins were quite receptive, even while they waited patiently at intersections, witnessing the repeated breaking of our tow-strap, of which we were to buy some three, before we finally found a good old fashioned chain. This time Joann, my wife, was towing me with a truck we had rented, just to get us back to Colorado and away from a Wyoming whose ever-doughty authorities, all in all, had been anything but receptive. We held up traffic at some major thoroughfares through town in this way, to our chagrin, but this gave a host of people a chance to take photos, and a few sodomites a chance to yell their murderous epithets in our ears, as they passed. (These people have the most riveting way of fixing you with their gaze, then speaking some friendly, reassuring word or two at first, so that you feel in bruising full contrast the impact of deadly words to follow.) Down the way in a medium-sized town we came just in time for a bikers' convention and pulled off on a little spot to which divine providence had led us, a piece of "no man's land" which no jurisdiction actually claimed. There I got a chance to serenade the flocks of geese just then heading south, stopped at the recently-harvested wheat field in front of which we were parked, with a few old cowboy songs. These feathered friends raising their usual din of squawks, honks and wing-flappings, but when I intoned "Dear old Western sky", another of many old show-tunes from the thirties, they settled down, believe it or not, in ranks, and listened silently, in rapt attention, for half of a morning or afternoon, before taking off south, doing a loop over us, as if to say goodbye, before they left. This happened repeatedly, every day we were there; but some sodomite—one out of a thousand of well-wishers of that good town—reported me as "shouting angrily at passing vehicles"—another as having "flipped my lid", thus having slandered my gentle singing to the geese. (Cows also love to be sung to, and will calm down, so as not to nervously lose their marketable tenderness-of-flesh. They will behave much the same as these good geese, if your singing is of the same gentle tone. Hence the singing cowboy had a genuine purpose in mind, and wasn't just a Hollywood phenomenon at all, but no doubt goes back centuries in time). Thereafter, two over-excitable policemen, totally out of their jurisdiction, which was in the town itself—pro-sodomy bigots findable in some departments, whose colleagues had been waving at us enthusiastically for days already—pulled up in a cloud of dust, rushing out of their squad-cars as if in "hot pursuit": the idea being, as seen so often indeed on live police or Law and Order shows, to panic you into some futile gesture of resistance, or of simple uncontrollable terror, so that they can forthwith use their nifty tasers, or spread-eagle you on the ground. (Note of 9/14: or now perhaps even to shoot you down with forty or fifty rounds, in the new and <i>scientific</i> "shoot first and ask questions later" methodology). How many people have died in this way, whether shot in TV-cop-show home invasions—deftly pulled from public viewing—or yesterday in the tasing of a teenage girl in the groin, an obvious kinky sadism. Indeed there has been a whole underworld of sick cops for decades now, as we have it on good authority: hardly a majority, but who nonetheless effectively run cover for colleagues who are into child-abductions, etc. As we found out from a dispatcher lady decades ago in a big Midwestern city whom we knew, a fine public servant who had once worked in the jurisdiction where the first of many kids disappeared some forty years ago now. The noted barbaric lady-tasing for which the cop involved—under excuse that "she was being uncooperative", which the film plainly shows she was not—will inevitably be let off Scot free. This in a disgusting saga we all know only too well. These two guys, unable to provoke old veterans like us into anything hysterical, thenceforth suggested that we were there to shoot down airplanes, standard terrorist style: being as it turned out more-or-less under the commercial flight pattern thereabouts. Believe me, most policemen are not yet this way, but they are getting increasingly so, no doubt under commands of well-rewarded higher ups.

Indeed, our coolness-under-fire—under hyper-aggressive interrogation for simply being there, while having done nothing wrong at all—earned the ire of a lady state patrol officer in one area: she who by expressions written in a childish scrawl across her undisciplined face plainly thought this our starkly-contrasting self-possession to be an indictment in the nth degree. (Since in our case a polar-opposite panic—under startling charge-attack of six policemen and deputies, plus herself—could not be elicited for the same purpose, thus illustrating the age-old anti-justice "wrong if you do, wrong if you don't"). Indeed, she would be instrumental in arranging a "sting operation", as our movements would be monitored carefully til the next day, with a couple of bogus drug-dealers coming by to implicate us in some alleged crime. In the middle of which drama the local drug-interdiction task force would find a conspicuous place. I guess we were supposed to panic and "confess", look for a "plea deal" or something. Oh, American law enforcement, "what webs you do weave, when first you practice to deceive." But if we would only act like some of these Occupy people—(although most of them seem on the face of it to be good folks)—and do a lot of stupid shouting and other boorish antics, then we would be allowed to claim the very ground as our own. Something we have never in remotest dreams thought to do. But to attack the crime of sodomy is in today's USA to be made out a criminal of the most readily-jailable kind.

May 30, 2011: God’s wrath is appeased through sorrow-for and discontinuance-of unjust wars and sodomite or otherwise-perverted legislation and court-rulings, not through repeating “we’ve got the American spirit, we will rebuild”. More on the Joplin body-count.

God is not going to spare Americans the trauma of seeing how enormous are both their punishment and the perverted and barbaric aggressive-warrior, anti-life and pro-sodomy crimes that brought them about. And we will only multiply such “tornado outbreaks” like mushrooms in a morning sun if we dare to invent, or continue to accept, in Yankee self-promotional fashion, all the minimization of the scope of the doom experience in places like Joplin. Where “to keep the people calm” (and convinced of Yankee righteousness and superiority) the rank fallacy of an incredibly small number of “those not accounted for” continues to prevail, being compared against the known dead or alive, coming up with this miniscule figure for “those still missing”. Who knows which figure is the more doctored-up, as if Joplin were simply another standard mishap, “all in a day’s work” of tight-lipped apparatchiks and muscle-bound, swat-team-minded policemen (or mercenaries, as in Katrina?) on the ground. In polite circles this is called a conundrum, and other things in other circles as well. Just calculate for a moment, the sweeping-clean of a city the size of Joplin, in a minimum half-mile swath, which is six blocks across, and twelve miles long, with a minimum of perhaps fifty people per square block (being very conservative here). This comes to 864 square blocks times 50, which modest assessment comes to 43,200 gravely-affected people, in this lifeless and leveled war-zone. Then consider the incredibly low numbers of those who checked into the shelters, which was somewhere in the low hundreds, “because neighbors (what neighbors?) took them in”, and the original figure of “232 missing”, and a total of well under 300 being steadily approached as a final figure for the deceased (note of 2/12: the final figure was with standard blank-faced officiousness ultimately ratcheted down to a ridiculous 141), is revealed for the insult to the human mind—and to the towering anger of God—that it truly is.

But “God will not be mocked”. Look at the sky, hear the howling of the wind, and be ready for more of the same, USA, until you fall on your knees, openly and in sincerity-of-heart and of mind repudiating your cruel and disgusting crimes. And then dedicate this land to, and establish its laws upon, the law of God, the sole source of valid law: that which was actually the “unwritten constitution” of most of the nations of Europe, and many elsewhere, before allegedly “advanced and superior”, agnostic, Enlightenment-era “written constitutions” were so cleverly and impiously framed so as to exclude that universally-required law, and the good God from Whom it came.

February 16, 2012: My old friend Bashar Al-Assad, who taught me lessons in Christian kindness. Note: this is a case of mistaken identity, as the Bashar in the news, who looks a bit aged lately, is a decade or so younger than the man I met so long ago. However, here is a tribute to some of the many good Muslims I have met over the years, in the person of this other Bashar, an acquaintance of my youth, whose first and last name, shared by this head-of-state, is apparently a common combination over there..

It is my distinct impression that the administration of Bashar Al-Assad is being hijacked just like so many others in the general region, with he himself undoubtedly slated for a barbaric murder at the hands of "democratic" revolutionaries secretly or openly in the U.S. hire. With plenty of the "repressions" and "assassinations" so generously laid at his doorstep being the fruits rather of Mossad, Blackwater or CIA black-ops intrigue: bringers of chaos and collapse to nations far and wide. This whole business of betraying world leaders being a topic frequently discussed on these pages, but with Bashar Al Assad it is someone I am quite certain I once knew personally, and for whose good character I can in a sense even vouch. At least with regard to the early age at which I knew him: at a time in life when for most of us our future moral qualities are already to a degree in place.

While waiting to attend university in Ireland in the summer of 1969, I boarded at a bed and breakfast for a couple of weeks with a young man I am quite convinced was Bashar Al-Assad, while I was in Waterford waiting for classes to start up in County Kildare. This Middle-easterner Bashar could see right away that the Arab-world Who's Who was Greek to me, and so he proceeded to bring me up-to-speed on the politics of his part of the world, giving me my first uninhibited view of Arabs and Muslims in general, in a favorable impression which has only grown by leaps and bounds since then, as in later encounters in universities here in the USA, and in other occasional connections as well. A humble and personable guy was Bashar, whose father, although unrecognized then by my own unschooled mind, was, as I came to gather, an important man indeed. A young companion whose first name I remember clearly, in the exact way the owner of the bed-and-breakfast used to say it, Bashar was exceedingly kind to me, even took me to meet his boatman, who had apparently brought him there by sea: a Scotchman, as I remember, whom we found in a little boat which was an interesting marvel all-its-own. A young man of about 18 at the time, and perfectly recognizable as being the same highly-distinctive person we see today on TV, Bashar was someone I have often wished to see again, although it was only recently that "a light came on" in my memory, now that he is so much in the news, so that I could make the connection to this encounter in Waterford so long ago. "A man you would want with you in a pinch", Bashar, whose features, height, build, etc., are unmistakably of the same man I knew so long ago, although most indelibly fixed in my mind after so many years is the way he once very kindly and tactfully reprimanded me, during that short couple of weeks. This, as I am ashamed to relate, for having myself been very unkind to this good woman, whom I had had the thankless effrontery to hold in suspicion as having stolen my wallet, with some fifteen-hundred dollars worth of travelers checks within. An item she would herself find for me a little later, way down at the bottom of a drawer to which it had slipped, and which was about 18 inches deep, after the style of the old and stolid heirloom furniture you found everywhere in Ireland and England in those days. A good woman to whom I was so unkind, who forgot the injury as soon as it was all over with: this good Catholic who together with Bashar sent me off to college a little wiser, a little more prepared, more Christian, more grown-up.

But we are assured here in the USA by Fox, Hillary and CNN that anytime some mob gathers on some street-corner in some foreign country to defame some (non-English-speaking) head-of-state that it signals a "popular groundswell", a "democratic movement", which the leader must forthwith listen-to and obey, or be punished with heavy sanctions and ultimately with U.S. or allied boots on the ground, or drone-bombs in the air. This all-too-familiar scenario is very easy to motivate or choreograph—with activism-inciting American NGOs everywhere ready to debouch well-trained assets out on the streets, armed with propaganda-facilitating virtual-reality equipment of all kinds. And it is already to our eternal shame that we—together with the ever-conniving Israelis—were the first to use such treacherous world-controlling means, compared to which species of cosmic tyranny alleged local villains are like cherubs or altar boys.

March 31, 2012: More on true leadership, the true state.

True leadership isn't obsessed with upper levels of power, with a "progressive consolidation of the state" which modern historians and political scientists somehow unanimously regard as intrinsic to civilization and legitimacy alike. The true state rather abominates any such ever-densening lock-step unification: that which the same modern academics hold indeed, if less-admittedly, to justify any amount of armed intervention into the affairs of other nations, employing the most perverse, brutal and cynical of means. The characterless monolith that results—whose stark King Kong features are most recognizable in the post-Kennedy USA—being no "liberal democracy" at all but the age-old, tiringly-familiar spectacle of a totalitarian regime: as always in history, using lots of pretty excuses for what it does. True legitimacy being loose-knit, as befits a realm of human beings with minds and souls, while dense consolidation is fit only for herds of unthinking swine. Modern America being indeed a biblical beast clothed in a sanctimony thought to earn libations of wealth, resources and human blood, a monster bringing ignorance, addiction, backwardness in its train: doling out death, not life. While presented here on this site, in these publications, on this Crusade, if not perfect, is nonetheless the most workable and advanced understanding of authority, of leadership: one however not measured in techno-trinkets or a glut of mass-produced material things but rather in the agency-packed liberty of the individual person to do what is good, constructive and self-actualizing. To realize his dignity in being "made in the image and likeness of God", within a genuine commonweal appropriate to a happy reciprocal interplay of human beings with minds and souls. A polity hardly favoring men's hopeless hostile collision, as in that calamitous laissez-faire economics which now once again rules the day, said to be so free but forging ever-heavier real-time chains, nor that Enlightenment-era political philosophy whose vaunted Newtonian-physics-lab principles have brought the world nothing but tyranny, apostasy and apocalyptic wars.

Good leadership, while not deifying itself, after the manner of the modern USA, yet patterns itself after the loving and accommodating Fatherhood of God, Who in His one all-embracing and eternal glance or Word sees all created things "the ideas of which are not distinct from Himself" (St. Thomas), being the Font from which springs forth all existence, reality, being. Hence too must the leader lovingly embody all within himself, modeling this "Fatherhood, (all of) which comes from God", orchestrating an authority not really of subjugation but of the greatest freedom and self-realization to each person and thing. Assisting, enabling the whole to model the divinity as far as is in his power; ordering all things toward a reciprocal integrity which is the common good, which resembles the mutuality of the very Blessed Trinity itself. Here then is an order and unity fraught with furthest measures of personal epiphany: as of these very Divine Persons, in the eternal Fatherly Utterance sustaining one another in a Personhood whole and entire. Each ontologically nourishing All, All nourishing Each, obedience and command discovered identical to love, liberty, truth. This freedom being a stranger to a modern estrangement which usurps the lovely name, which would lead goodness away captive in chains. The good state embodying politically the essentially-reciprocal nature of all things, keeping the smallest reality generously nourished and firmly and immovably intact: in contrast to a polar-dialectical, small-entity-annihilating laissez faire, inheriting the wind and the gnashing of teeth. This true ordering being the fountainhead of utmost agency over what naturally comes under the individual's rational and moral purview: in this way keeping the commonweal firmly intact, in a rip-rap of citizen-power, at each ascending step the more facilitating and enabling, brokering the benign, self-actualizing coordination of each to all. Arbitrating to each ascending group from the smallest upward the fullest measure of agency contributory to the power of the whole: a configuration alone allowing the mutual respect and forbearance which friendship requires. That corporate amity which St. Thomas Aquinas identifies as the essential purpose of the civil power, in stark contrast to the modern standoff of hostile forces such as is spread around the globe imperially by the USA today.

Strongly characteristic of the good state—such as has always been aimed at by men of goodwill—is that it is a self-reinforcing, self-perpetuating, exhaustively-engaging work-in-progress, its strength in its intrinsic partiality to the common man. He who determines its cultural identity, its guiding contours, which differ in great detail from one nation to the next. That national identity—elaborated in neighborhood, county and regional forms—which it is the duty of the leader to foster, to shepherd to ever-greater self-realization, to lay down his life, if necessary, to preserve and exalt. It is a system—as natural to man as the hive to the bee—which is only overcome by an alliance of traitors and alien infiltrators, who undermine it by stealth from within. They who see enemies or "terrorists" everywhere, but who class any who would uncover their own treacherous activities as mentally ill, as paranoiacs or "conspiracy theorists". Endeavoring in this way, like a cat burying its mess, to keep their project hidden to the last.

March 29, 2012: Benedict XVI, the grand double-talker of our times.

This great droning speechmaker, poured so perfectly into a fifty-year-old anti-Petrine mold, can't be bothered to preach sermons—which basically went out the "open window" of Vatican II—genuine homilies being an inconvenient goad to those moral consciences which precipitously "forward-looking" minds of post-conciliar times just cannot abide. Rather do these new biblical "men in soft garments" dwell in airy reaches of theory, or of a half-century-old hypnotic fixation with fluffy genera of "love and forgiveness" that has emptied our pews of the truly believing and devout. With Benedict saying something about Cuba's political system being nowadays "irrelevant" to the modern "march of progress": this being however the basic position of the Communist Party today, at least in the West, where it has summarily dumped most of its old collectivist concerns in favor of "market forces": said earlier to have been decisively vanquished by the proletariat. But "not to worry", as Benedict in this way finds new uses for any number of worn-out words that had the Catholic world agog at Vatican II. This antipope thus deftly, according to the special forte of his kind, leaves out any criticism for the robber-baron capitalism of the USA, ninety miles away, having in special measure the facility of cats-in-sandboxes, noted above. As if this "brilliant" seven-(or is it eight?)-language-speaking paragon can only speak of one bad thing at a time, after the all-excusing, theatrically-infantile manner of Vatican II. While in the world of these high dilatants this little omission—of any criticism of that superpower which is the Napoleon, the anti-life butcher, the sodomite monster, of the ages—speaks deafening, vindicating volumes for the ongoing demise of Faith.

March 29, 2012: Hedonism, today wildly promoted in our schools, doesn't exalt nature, but debases it, inevitably inducing a calamitous contempt for the body, for all material things. The spiritual and material are "of a piece" in the Mind of God. Congress actually full of modern-day flesh-hating Gnostics.

Reality according to the Mind of God, and indeed of sane men, is all about reverence and respect: an ensemble in which even the most foot-trodden particle of dust on some well-travel path is honored in some way. Far from which exchange-of-regard is hedonism, which although it initially exalts material things of all kinds feverishly, beyond their proper place, inevitably and just as surely brings them down to the depths of contempt. For this undue, ribald exaltation actually robs creatures, by nature nobly-instrumental, of their own peculiar place in this mutually-uplifting scheme-of-things, of those realities each is meant to be a vessel of, to convey. This undue promotion of passions, of material things actually inhibiting their native and quintessential potency, expressed in due place and time: a dignity displaced by a glorification perverse to the very core. Physical things each of which by nature finds its own species of happiness (St. Thomas Aquinas: "place of rest") in serving man instrumentally, and God ultimately: both of which require a reasonable ordering, even a creaturely humility, which redounds paradoxically to a certain higher station, of a lower honorably serving a higher realm. Lowly entities being in special need, as it were, of a certain recognition or due respect in that lowly but hardly-despicable role: an honor which they quickly lose in any tumultuous spilling-over without containment or proper goal. In the service of a man with a soul and a mind, and a God Who is Mind Itself. While the inevitable lack of this recognition further goads lower nature, as it were, now become unjustly the sport of mockery and disgrace, into further degrading rebellions of every kind, when once thus expelled from native noble, useful and salutary realms. While conversely do we make ourselves bosom companions to the angels, in their ineffable attendance upon the Heavenly throne—ever the illusory goal of Manichaeans of every stripe—not by some foolish denial of who and what we are, some stark Gnostic negation of our humble limitations as creatures with bodies as well as souls: but rather by taking the body, together indeed with all material creation, with us on flights to reaches above.

Hence far from jaded illusions of sensualists of every stripe, who, despising indeed the very mind itself, worship the sensation rather than the God who gave it being and life, does a positive valuation of material things readily facilitate adoration, devotion, divine love, Civilization in men, who must "live, move and have their being" in a material world. Who through disciplined habits readily enter into a salutary musical dialog with same. Even as the chaotic and disjointed revelry of the dissipate brings only disease and stupidity, dissolution and death: as so many unfortunate examples of a now-aging "boomer" generation so pitifully bring to mind. These one-time rollicking paragons whose vacant, drug-jaded glance now reigns in empty regions once engrossed in feverish, tumultuous delights. Dismal reaches now succeeding which are congenial as well to matter-condemning Gnostics, Manichaeans and a host of other heretics—always stalking the heels of riotous fools—who contemptuously deny the proper dignity of the human condition, and indeed of each humble material thing. Heresy—of which this alienation of matter and spirit is a sort of mother-of-them-all—being intimately associated by the Apostle with ribald and perverse behavior, of a "becoming tired of the natural": in an all-fronts rebellion corporal and intellectual which vitiates all creaturely potency in the service of God, indeed of man as well. Stripped of the respect, of a certain level of reverence proper to each, as of "frail vessels", which they indeed require. Companions of our creaturely condition that they are, in a station for which they were primarily brought into being.

Of course too rightly classed in the ambit of this Gnostic error—of minds and habits jaded from opulence and perversity, a spectacle noted many times on this site—is the left/right political see-saw of today: with one side (mostly Republicans) dwelling in the clouds of pure super-sanitary theory, the other, in despair of putative lofty goals (mostly Democrats), scraping the policy muck and mire. These polar-contenders to whom institutionalized sodomy and bloody wars mean nothing at all. Manichaeans—whose polar spirit/matter pitches these parties so starkly and unworkably epitomize—not really being so spiritual at all, but full of arrogant and unreasonable presumption: upon the heels of which follows—and is spread among the populace—debauchery, perversity and despair. Indeed historically the Manichaeans or Albigensians themselves were notorious for an arch-hypocritical species of "pure ones" who by dint of their execration of material things, of the human body, and an intimately-associated brutal rejection of all pity or sympathy, were granted by craven admirers a limitless exploitation of the finest specimens of same, as a sort of tribute, being granted orgiastic satieties, like pagan deities, in ancient escapades in fabled skies. Fiends who accordingly indulged themselves with harems of both sexes, with sensual excesses of every kind, amid abject followers who lived in thrall. All this as recorded by countless medieval inquisitors, as well as by members of Simon de Montfort's much-misrepresented Crusade against same. Thus too those latter-day Nazis, whose High Command used to worship yearly at the ruins of the anti-life, sodomite castle of these medieval Albigensians, at the same Montsegur whose fanatical, suicidal inhabitants de Montfort was forced to put to the sword. (Cathars to whom indeed the birth of a child was the worst possible event, and suicide, "escape from the body", the preferred recourse of sainted ones.) Deluded persons, like some of the suicidal cults of our own time, who periodically "leave this world" en-masse, wishing to be freed from ties to an earthly condition they have been taught to hate and despise. Nazis themselves being of course infamous for their cruel, corrupt and nefarious lives. For spiritual/material composite man must always remain true to what he is, and not elevate himself to dizzy and perilous Platonic regions where he doesn't belong, where he has no wings with which to fly. Where he cannot function effectively at all, but quickly crashes, smashed and shattered, far below.

But when properly valued and understood, sports, song, culture, humor fit admirably well into this blueprint, this ladder of creatures and quiddities which ascends to the throne of God. While these activities always require for their integrity and utility—and a-fortiori for their Catholic understanding—that virtues be woven throughout. The latter raising physical things to a higher state, making a strong and seamless whole, lifting us upward the while they rest and heal mind, body and soul. Since as noted elsewhere all of creation is thus arranged in hierarchy, of a lower or lesser aspiring to partake of a higher, each hardly complacently wallowing in it own self-centered, self-indulgent mire. Hence should we rational creatures not be satisfied even with the pastimes of mere philosophers, being drawn upward to a far-higher station even than that, among angels ranked is rapture above. Let alone then should we conduct ourselves like senseless beasts, misusing our bodies, the things around us, like despairing hedonists, like apes swinging in trees between alternating passions indulgent and cruel, aliens to good purposes for which these drives and instincts are designed. Humanity being endowed with virtues that make the enjoyment of pastimes all-the-greater, as accomplished by well-ordered, fully-functional minds, souls and wills: that part of us after all which actually enjoys things, if they are to be enjoyed at all. Men uniquely both brother to angels and material things, centerpiece to creation that we are, in whom the spiritual content is always paramount in all these things. Yet not at all displacing the physical or natural, only giving to each its due place, like the rider who always stays atop the horse, rather than falling broken under its hooves.

March 18, 2012: The state not a discussion club but a work-in-progress. The presidential race and today's fissure between moral and political life: a practical continuation of the ancient spiritual/physical dichotomy of the Gnostics.

There's a great deal of philosophical history behind the political see-saw mentioned so often here—the great Washington battle of two opposing and equally-radical sides on every significant issue—that great grinding mill which turns out so little real flour, that contradictory gab-session whereby the people are left with laws and policies that no one really wants. Being stuck with some detestable "compromise", some abominable policy nonetheless and with lightning speed institutionalized through the school system and in our foreign and domestic policies of every kind. Opposing advocacies equally bad somehow uncannily giving birth to things against which our forefathers would have laid down their lives, fought another revolutionary war. With insanities and impunities being pushed ahead with glib self-assurance, all the while other far-more positive and practical approaches are ranked as "irrelevant" to the "freedom-loving" clamoring din in D.C. A host of better and easier, common-sense alternatives being judged without any debate at all to be hopelessly "naïve", "backward", "not well-enough thought out", and so on. All the while breathless figures like John McCain, Harry Reid or Nancy Pilosi—or this wild-eyed either/or Ryan guy, the consummate Ayn Rand privatizing radical—assure us they are expending titanic energies on our behalf. Scrappers, putative pit-bulls, representing us in that "bad world out there", against enemies which they alone allegedly know how to fight. And the fact that nothing of any positive meaning ever gets done is said to be ruefully indicative of how hard the struggle actually is, up there in D.C. While among tools-of-trade of these D.C. self-styled heroes are certain handy verbal devices, ploys which skillfully misrepresent the words of some rare senator with a good idea to mean something radical or stupid. With the great orator muttering, when the poor guy is only half-way through his thought, "what I hear you saying is…is": the double verb introducing a sort of congressional beatnik nirvana most conducive to abortive or gridlocked policies that inevitably transpire.

But the business in Washington, the mandate of the commonweal, the work of "The People", or the Dineh, as expressed in Navajo and a hundred other indigenous national-nominatives, is precisely that: a work-in-progress, not simply a wind-of-words. We don't argue simply for the sake of arguing: we build as the grace of God puts it into our hearts to do. Our passion being for good and constructive things, not for impotent, angry, allegedly "democratic" display. (For we know indeed that the greatest and most-consequential of passion is within, and in highest spiritual precincts can sometimes scarcely even moves the brow, or colors the face.) There is no real cacophony here, although there may be a good deal of swinging the pole back and forth, like a surveyor's rod-man, until it stands almost by itself, and is therefore plumb. It is free because it is good; while evil and perversity, by contrast, bind our hands. We don't argue about whether the structure should rise upward rather than burrow down: like the diabolical "embassy" in Baghdad, which could hide a brigade of black-ops fiends far below ground. Nor do men-of-state argue about whether there is a God, Who puts it in our hearts and minds to copy His own constructive plan. Nor ultimately is it open to discussion whether or not He was incarnated, came down precisely to show us that blueprint. Its legend or symbols printed in Sacraments and decretals of a personal, authoritative hierarchy, its awesome dimensions and elevations traced in the Blood of the Cross. No, we mere mortal men don't argue about such things: we believe, and then we do. Or else suffer the penalties of disbelief, as we are indeed doing now. And they who seriously and actively hijack or sabotage this constructive enterprise—in which souls-of-children are built up, and not just partitions—these are very simply traitors, not just harmless "dissidents". Nor does it matter that they profess some "higher duty", nor that they claim arrogantly to be "not like the rest of men". Mouthing the hellish language of Lucifer, "the enlightened one", not the loyal accents of the loving, pious and devout.

Here then—in this studiedly-innocuous intrusion of sinister interlopers—is found the key to the gradualistic nature of all this policy-evolution: since these towering D.C. figures know ruefully well that the people will never accept their perverted and destructive ideas out-of-hand. They the demolition-crew debouching from a rigidly-controlled media, polls, primaries and elections—with democracy stripped of all its critical communicational means—having their like in a special way at the municipal level as well. Foul spawn of secret societies and coteries of every kind, in a government which is openly or cryptically Jewish in majority-composition. All these "enlightened ones" at the Capitol claiming the need to pick their way through all these daunting blinds and thickets—of thorny categoricals and arcane imperatives of every shape and size—each of which has its yin/yang or thesis/antithesis polar-opposite, equally perverted or bizarre—between which two the hotly-argued "compromise" or synthesis must be found. The result being nothing but pure worked-over, characterless slop. After which all these titans breathlessly and theatrically wipe their fevered brows.

In the midst of all this oratorical/political nirvana one-time rock-solid notions like housing, property, contractual obligations, congressionally-declared war, to name a few, gradually melt away, lose their mental moorings, in the flood of nebulous words undergoing radical transformations they could scarcely have known when Kennedy "knighthood was in flower". Paving the way for that bottomless pit of Godless Marxism, i.e., Jewish capitalism/communism, now so steadily being dug in D.C: with spade-work by loudly contending sides of right and left. Obama's radical revolution progressing in just this bewildering, cacophonous way, in a free-for-all which if allowed to continue will see the end of everything good men ever held dear. In a fait accompli poured in hardened concrete before we even know that the form-boards are in place. We will see many more political opponents like Blagojevich receiving maximum sentences, their lives and families destroyed out-of-hand, for dockets of imaginary "crimes" for which there is neither proof nor even clear legal description. A ground-clearing operation which will see school children increasingly trained in the smug Maoist logic which makes it all queerly correct to properly-Orwellian minds. Before a cloud-shrouded throne in whose august precincts no real discussion—only posturing, hand-wringing or impotent rage—is allowed at all.

March 18, 2012: Continuation of above article, "The state is not a discussion club…." Modern Western Marxism, St. Irenaeas and the Gnostics.

Necessary to all the above-noted building downward instead of up is a certain delirious reveling in some ideological summit, with the condemnation of anything practical following with doleful inevitability in its train: the end result always a society of foul and filthy habits, of idolatry, embezzlement and international intrigue. Historically, we have only to look at the fatal policies of Byzantines, with purity-of-principle being matched only by butchery, perversity and fratricidal court-intrigue: barbarism always attending categoricals of purest ideological domain. Gnosticism being capable of myriad bifurcated forms, all of which ultimately broker dire practical despair, the most useless and lamentable legislation, here in a procedurally-Marxist USA by dint of this contradictory see-saw, bobbing up and down. Hence if some upright representative sponsors a bill to advance sexual morality in the schools, the contention is inevitably made that "what I hear you saying is…is that you want to introduce a hip-booted police state" (one seat on the see-saw): the only cure for which is claimed to be the retention of the cesspool-like free-for-all (the other seat) we have today. For in Gnosticism we deal with pure unadulterated theory—with flinty opposites battling in the sky—indeed with caricature, in purest concentrated form. Coming up quite well to fantasies of Manichaeans, Albigensians and assorted medieval splinter-groups of Illuminists as well.

The prototypical Gnostics were combated with indefatigable zeal by the second-century A.D. St. Irenaeas: a spiritual titan who first specifically championed the balanced Christocentric counterpoise of physical and spiritual things. Christ having come to heal the moral-and-political fissure which Original Sin brought in its deadly train: pouring balm as He did into a wounded nature which tends in particular to put obstacles between moral belief and its practical, no-nonsense application in earthly deeds and affairs. Indeed some form of this Gnostic anti-life, anti-reality folly—which as noted always starts in antiseptic realms of pure theory but ends up in the murky moral mire—seems to be an abiding affliction in all ages for mankind, while today providing thrifty philosophical basis for the modern preference of politicians to dwell in heady realms of mere lugubrious speeches, fairly filling the air. Or finely-crafted axioms felt to more than supply for deeds.

Perfect specimens of Gnostics as well were our Freemasonic founding fathers themselves, plying a thought-system of which they were dedicated devouts: always single-mindedly striving for the achievement of a Platonic plateau of the theoretically ideal. Toward which cloudy summit any amount of dialectical see-sawing legislative or court-doctrinal combat-in-the-clouds was thought noble work indeed. A hot-air of heady diction for which however so many generations of innocent youth would be prevailed upon to lay down their lives. Thus too does our epic-loquacious case-law, and voluminous minority and majority opinions, stand alone in a class apart among verbally-economical and mercifully-lucid statutes of other men. After which heady exertions unwashed and unworthy material reality, physical things—indeed the Gospel "widow and the orphan"—can with unruffled calm be left substantially to fend for themselves, even while last notes of lofty preambles still stir the doom-filled air. As long as we can revel over beautiful ideas up in the sky, among Plato's "eternal types" or prototypical "ideas", attending a hair-spring balancing-of-branches of government, all is regarded as fair and good, the while a "cursed" humanity is raped, starved and destroyed. Object of attentions of a Gnostic "Invisible Hand", piously in capital letters, which economically or militarily determines all. After which we and our leaders are thought true and heroic patriots, no matter how much misery they might bring in their rasping, garrulous train. Hence too Plato—a kind of proto-Gnostic—who posited the existence of the "idea" of a perfect or ideal horse, in comparison to which all actual horses are woefully defective: founder of a practically-inapplicable purist creed which it took the Enlightenment Era school, trying out their theories during the Age of Revolution, to be so rash as to apply to political things.

Actually, it seems that diabolical Gnosticism—with its insistence upon perfect form regardless of disastrous practical result—finds its age-hoary roots in a primordial satanic rejection of the Divine Processions within the Blessed Trinity, with the fiend plying a remorseless marginalization of God the Son in the heretical mind. Execrating as he does that Second Divine Person Whom he most hates, abominating the latter's wholehearted embrace of an ever-spontaneous and contingency-ridden material creation and the frail-yet-magnificent physical beings it contains. All of which indeed "groaned" in moral bondage before His coming, paramount among which universe's diabolically-despised and provisional inhabitants is man. Wishing as the devil does, in his cabals of cosmic overthrow, to replace this Second Person's divine docility, His perfect, humble identity with the Father's Substance, Uttered for all eternity. In ever-youthful and spontaneous divine Verities the Son being the Father's very eternal Word: in a uniformity the fiend desires to replace with his own towering, doctrinaire singularity, elitist arrogance and morbid pride. To cancel-out, as it were, this ever-responsive, mercifully-provisional, non-elitist Heavenly condescension of a Son who with a "divine folly" bent so low—provoking all this proud, stuffy diabolical umbrage—as to take to Himself human nature, human flesh, and humble contingencies attendant thereto.

Hence this inevitable faulty grasp of the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity among heretics, who all resemble satan in harboring all these "brave", sharped-edged, radical, "purist" ideas: inevitably mediating an inaccurate, radical or fanatical understanding of any other serious subject as well. Indeed, the thirteen colonies were a social laboratory conducted upon arch-heretical buckle-hatted notions of just this kind: an "experiment" whose precipitous and largely-unwarranted conclusions—and polar advocacies and condemnations—would then be tried out on a largely unsuspecting populace, and from thence on an entire globe. For fanaticism, indeed terrorism, finds its origins not so much among impoverished Arabs as in these super-sanitary, ritual-ablutionary, purist ideals: barren of mercy for laughter or tears. Stark, humorless morbidities which make blooming youths sit erect on hard-backed chairs while Scripture is read the whole day long, and then go out to gather scalps of Indians for decorations, as was first done with Irish locks by first dour "deliverers" of Cromwell to honor memories of "Good Queen Bess". Hence hyper-aggressive policies which have only found new and polished disguises under which to hide, continuing four centuries to multiply death and sterility at the pace of derivatives heaping "profits" to the sky. In a "no turning back now" precipitation which has nothing but fine-crafted theory and shining techno-baubles to show, counting cheaply valued human life mere grease for spinning gears, no mortal cost too much to bear.

Hence in the presidential contest today does even a morally-impelled Santorum draw the standard thick Gnostic flesh/spirit dividing line between matters-of-state and matters-of-conscience in many important regards, embracing the pure theory of a U.S. "march of freedom" oversees: "not to worry" that it reeks of butcheries and perversities of every conceivable kind. This fatal precipitation being at the essence of a Gnostic predisposition, an inner notional schism which for two centuries and more has under-girded a U.S. radical separation of church and state. That which translates into a brutal dominion of secular pragmatism over morality and faith, in practical terms: this platonic/Puritanical error having from the beginning found the U.S. prosecuting a host of aggressive wars and unjust social or diplomatic policies as well. Santorum here taking the same inevitable might-makes-right tack as other leading candidates in the fray, going the gamut indeed in a standard wholesale endorsement of barbaric Israeli/Manichaean goals in the Middle East, from a people whose delirious apotheosis can hardly hide all the stout puppet-strings attached to organs of the state at home and around the globe. Indeed, if you fail here you are doomed to fail on all the other issues as well: since our dealings with the Muslim world form a grim litmus test for our entire policy-ensemble, overshadow all else by sheer financial, infrastructural and polemical immensity. That budgetary Titanic whose up-and-down-stream fiscal-ancillaries and motivational-path-dependencies swamp so many smaller boats. Present ideology-driven imperatives thus brokering gross misallocations, consigning so many other crying-priorities into a black-hole of oblivion from whence they will scarcely again reemerge.

For ultimately being poured in concrete here is a global dividing-of-spoils and soils which over centuries has become a fait accompli increasingly predetermined as time goes on, and from which only the power of God can provide escape. As purisms forged in Hell have a metallic mind of their own, and precipitation and allegedly super-sanitary theory take turns wearing a deeper and deeper practical/doctrinal groove in our habits, our political supply-chains, in everything we allocate, think or do. Brokering a brutal denial of natural-law rights from South Asia to North Africa: in the latter of which regions our leaders take a hysterical, fact-ignoring, George-Clooney-mediated wrong position every time. Global-outsized issues whose fair, realistic and genuinely-compassionate adjudication—rather than standard Yankee maudlin/murderous misrepresentation—will win you few rich-guy endorsements. Bloody fates of Asians and Africans being short-sighted or subordinated by all these highly-impressive candidates to a position of shameful disregard: with the exception of a Ron Paul who is however a pure Gnostic in most other regards. Faulty and fanatical but ritually-ablutionary notions about war or economy being everywhere rife today, while terrors and injustices rained upon the Muslim world are airily consigned to a tidy Manichaean place far below ideologically-purist or Gnostic claims of Jewish "chosen people" ascendancy. This in an utterly inhuman and un-Christian idolatry for which any amount of human blood—in classical Nazi/Albigensian style—is held to be scarcely sufficient tribute. By fanatical ideological purists at the highest of national levels whom we have always had to endure.

In fact what we have is a global cabal empowered by a veritable tsunami of Federal-Reserve-expanded money, interlopers who direct a mammoth force which effortlessly invades every legislature, infiltrates every diplomatic delegation, funds every street-corner-revolutionary overthrow or sweat-shop commercial/industrial insurgency: all the while hoarse accents of brittle and unworkable ritual-imperatives fill the air. In wake of which destructive tidal-wave float fragments of national economies, of once-reasonable political relations between nations, of new and twisted rules of war: all now but so much ocean-going debris. Is this what money was originally made for, to wreak such havoc, to defy the loving care, the bountiful omnipotence of Almighty God, to thus countermand His order-establishing Word? Lucifer, and those who serve him, would indeed think so.

But my idea of a political leader is one who gives almost no speeches, who rather spends the overwhelming bulk of his time hammering out practical (rather than polemical or ritual-fanciful) details, a toiler lost amid consulting groups of lesser, superior or peer-level leaders with whom he works in laborious concert, with whose fortunes, and those of their constituents, he is critically and irrevocably joined. (Why make yourself a bull's eye for a madman with a rifle, giving vanity-feeding speeches in auditoria or in the open air, when you can do much more good in a much-less morally-and-physically dangerous way?) For as I never tire of repeating: genuine democracy works its way up, "from the bottom up", from the ten-man Frankpledge unit: and in such a hands-on configuration nobody is such a "big cheese" as these guys down there on the bottom rung. Democracy being found not so much in highly-forgeable electronic-ballot-boxes, or even for that matter in paper-traceable ones, as in consultative bodies which hammer-out practical agendas, which extend, accept or reject charters (of local free-agency, not really of straight-jacketing rules)—sending them back where they came from for laborious review. Indeed, there's lots of time for such creative labors when the people aren't mortally harried by the debt-pursued deadline. Within an age-old configuration which harbor and respect customs and usages, which keep the body-politic morally and intellectually, economically and socially alive. A work-in-progress against which no aloof breed of preemptive interlopers will be allowed to interpose their "sweet will" or whim, or render the electorate a passively worked-over putty, a limp target of glorious Gnostic ideals. A workable system, a genuine leadership being judged more by what it does than what it says.

But antiseptic fantasies of Founding-Father Freemasons about Enlightenment Era spinning orbs of countervailing, counterbalancing political realms or spheres, for which our young lay down their lives on foreign soil: all this accords perfectly-well with the Albigensian's contempt for "messy details" of human life. Ah, it is so much simpler to sound patriotic and simply blow Pakistanis and Palestinians to smithereens, or let them continue to be gunned down, with Hillarian (or Hitlerian) "higher principle" towering above these biblical "rest of men", than to simply talk to all concerned, to show ourselves indeed by deeds to be their friends. Forsaking at last a three-hundred year-old proclivity to "lead mankind" to "new vistas of democracy" by trade-rape, extraterritorial "Treaty Ports" and "make the world safe" expeditions of the unleashed sword. These hoary vestiges of the most backward of American times having been doughtily disinterred solely on the strength of a 9/11 which serves as a perpetual prop—with heinous if cat-buried "war-justifying" historical counterparts—for gallingly-familiar joint U.S. and Israeli policy-goals. The whole remaining densely shrouded in the same impenetrable secrecy which has attended treacheries and tyrannies of four hundred buckle-hatted years. Here being found the pith, the core of this ugly and satanic heretical Gnostic predisposition, this morally-lazy "idealism" which so deftly facilitates all cruel or barbaric things: this eager willingness to consign "troublesome" details of human life—of despised realms of the physical—to convenient fabrications, "market forces" and tender mercies of mercenaries and drone-bombs, raining down death from the sky. As long as thereby we can fantasize that freedom rings in Gnostic minds. Imaging ourselves saintly or sanitary all the while. A proclivity for millennia brokered and arbitrated by the Jews, for whom "the rest of men" are worthy of exactly so much humanity-despising consideration, and nothing more.

Hardly would Catholic ancestors have anticipated such a fate to infest the Catholic fold, but that's been the doleful story, progressively since the Revolutionary Era, and in great heretical and schismatical intensity since the fraudulent election of John XXIII (having the same name as the anti-pope just before him in renaissance times). In a gradual deepening catastrophic abandonment of all practical moral authority, together of course with a coining of precisely-crafted phrases of the most impressive kind. Anti-popes, (probably-invalidly-ordained) priests and bishops alike now contenting themselves with making a lot of impressive, alternately wildly-optimistic or hand-wringing speeches: seldom really sermons, which compellingly move the heart or mind. While finding sparse time for thorny, near-intractable, moral-practicality-clad needs of the fold: let alone finding courage to stoutly oppose a patently-unjust war. Leaving airily aside all the old laborious, meticulous remonstrations and advocacies of mid-century and previous days-gone-by: when you would hardly have found a priest who would have stood meekly by in the midst of such horrible things as abound today.

But with me, this humblest candidate, you will find only a Croatian peasant, digging in the ground, maybe watering and manuring-around some struggling fruit-tree, like my father, or nursing along another colony of his beloved bees. I hold fast to these earthily-practical principles not in order to make some theological stir among the Catholic fold but precisely because I am such a peasant in my deepest self, and like Charlemagne or St. Louis the Great would, by grace of God, not abandon the people to the high-minded hireling or the wolf. Struggling rather to reestablish this Christocentric primacy of the messy and non-impressive good-deed, this compassionate primacy of the here-and-now, of heeding the wail of the woman, Rachel-like, over her Afghani children, "because they are no more".

March 23, 2012: How did Heaven reconcile mostly-barbarous colonial conquests by Christian nations, whose missionaries brought the message of the meek Christ? We true Catholics are not "us against them" people, siding with the Jews against humanity: no, we are friends of our fellow man, wherever they are found.

Obviously, history books coming out of heavily-Jewish-controlled publishing companies, written by historians from universities of the same general type, aren't going to accommodate the view of history propounded so laboriously on this site: hence the requirement that we ourselves fill in many of the blanks, all the while keeping steadily in mind highly-supportive decretals of (valid) popes and monarchs throughout anno domino times. Indeed and notwithstanding, everything I have read in twenty-some years of research supports, at least in a general way, the hypothesis presented here: that the disorderly passions of the basest of men are mobilized by the Jews to accomplish their most deeply-cherished aims. Part-and-parcel of which agenda has been a relentless "colonial" extension of Jewish hegemony over the entire earth, an effort which has followed this methodological rule with all the faithfulness that grim and remorseless morbidity can supply. Hence do we hold, no doubt entirely independently among commentators, that already in later medieval times certain tumultuous figures were pushed forward through the power of Jewish finance and intrigue, to promote and carry forward this idea of colonization: while seeing to the firm association of genuine sanctimonies of an incongruous missionary work with this aggressive concept from out of hoary ancient pagan times. For these purposes did the synagogue forge a monolithic "no nonsense" church/state amalgam in which the state—amid loudly-announced pious pretenses—would be rigidly in charge in practical terms.

Plainly from such beginnings, in such massive ventures, the place of doubletalk would be paramount, a mortar required for such uncanny achievements as the joining of military conquest to the meek message of Christ: but the synagogue-brokered seamless church/state amalgam (in a union albeit tactical and temporarily) would be well up to breathless polemical tasks required. Granted there were notable exceptions: as with a Cortez who by all contemporary accounts was no aggressive warrior, and left strict orders to his lieutenant-in-charge—while he was away on the coast somewhere—not to engage Montezuma and the Aztecs in battle. A general who however—and in polar-contradiction to black legend fabrications of noted ironical/hypocritical historians, who generally love colonization but hate the colonizer—was actually forced into battle by the grizzly human-sacrificial Aztecs. They who were constantly grabbing up Spaniards to sacrifice to the Serpent-god Quetzaquitl, up there on the horrible Ziggurat, and whose latest ceremonial commemoration had just seen the sacrifice of some 80,000 human lives in a mere fifteen days, amid rites perverted, sadistic and satanic beyond any measure previous known to men. The project of Columbus having thus plainly been used by God to bring an end to this sodomy-priesthood ritual mass-murder, while being directly instrumental in bringing about the complete conversion of Mexico, within a spare twenty years of the victory at Mexico City, and a mere ten years after the stupendous miracle of the apparition near Mexico City of Our Lady of Guadalupe. That Heavenly intervention which was indeed this epic transformation's most direct cause. Guadalupe being the very name of the miraculous statue which in Spain itself had been prominent in an also-highly-miraculous driving out of the Moors.

Granted, then, that the powers of Heaven are willing to use colonizing or exploring expeditions for their own higher designs: yet on the other hand there would follow the barbaric examples of Onate, Coronado and Vargas, and a great many others as well: the effects among the Indians of whose atrocities would work inevitable deformities upon the holy efforts of missionaries, resulting in a Western-Hemisphere Catholicism to this very day still in some ways poorly-formed, readily prone, at the least occasion, to erroneous or paganistic influences of many kinds. For Christ very plainly did not desire this sort of evangelization, joined grotesquely to a conquering dictatorial tyranny, with the slaughter of any natives who in any way resisted Spanish arms, and even of many as meek as doves: things so many times so cruelly-contradictory to the gentle Gospel Way. That staggeringly incongruous approach which despite desperate pleas to the contrary of Jesuits in particular was in many ways the very keynote of the Spanish and Portuguese colonization: in an unholy anomaly of course to be reproduced in the New England colonies in trebled Calvinistic terms.

Hence on to our subject, of the intrinsic place of the double-talking hard-sell in the dealings of the U.S. Government, relentlessly pedaled off on the American people, plied to Indian tribes across the plains in an arcane species of legalese whose slippery syllables were for-all-that mastered with model skill by Congresses, governors and presidents alike. Men effectively captured or buffaloed from the start by agents of the synagogue. For instance with U.S. treaty-negotiators substituting a legally-negligible term possession for ownership regarding land held from time immemorial by the various tribes: soil rightly and incontrovertibly claimed by indigenous peoples in a then-universally-prevalent community rather than starkly-divergent fee simple form. All this in clear contrast to Spaniards who left the Indians on the land as before, and for the substantial loss of whose undisturbed title the advent of "heroic", Yank-subsidized, Masonic Criollo (native-born pure-Caucasian) revolutionaries would be required: who would "rescue" the Indians from Spain, and forthwith take the bulk of their fabulously-wealthy, cattle-and-produce-rich, mission-based estancias. Turning them out poverty-stricken indeed. Even as certain grueling despotisms had been endemic to Spanish rule from the start, as in a form of labor-extortion, called the encomiendo system, in a levy of a certain percentage of men of any village, indentured to work in health-destructive mining and other hard-labor, conditions differing but little from slavery.


The radical Blackstonian "sole and despotic" ownership that Yanks would adopt—a novelty not destined to be embraced by other Western nations for a century more—was hardly the genuine legacy of mankind: being a perverse blight upon the human social-conscience, another cynical capitalism-dynamic gradually imposed upon "liberated" post-Revolutionary Westerners by judicial-doctrine-molding back-room fiat of ruling financier-elites. A form of rigorously-profit-extractive rather than genuinely-wealth-prolific real-property title whose ceaseless, murderous levies upon the productive capacity of a prodigally-fruitful creation, as given us from out of the hand of God, but stolen from that very divine hand by a larcenous scarcity principle of Marshall and Smith, represented a diabolical shift in economic thinking destined inexorably to terminate in the growing mass-homelessness of today. Indian ancestral lands being by natural law immune—regardless of the legal and moral bubble of the radical-experimental Colonies—from ground-clearing claim by anyone else: however eager, notionally-pliable or "righteous" they might be. This astute U.S. hard-sell being eagerly adopted by Yankee-groomed Criollos to the south as well, by the early 1800s to be seen in crony-rewarding Indian-land-giveaways by revolutionary governments across Latin America. Doubletalk continuing to this day to grease the wheels of such an infernal train, notably whenever one or two major media outlets merge with two or three others. The hard-sell having been helped along nicely back then on the U.S. Western plain by the application of heavy doses of alcohol to the primitive mind. They who had a system unused to the substance, which seemed to afford them some degree of relief from the unmitigated horror of seeing their whole way-of-life taken away, as if it had only been a dream. (For some particulars on Indian policy see Carter, Samuel III, Cherokee Sunset, a Nation Betrayed: A Narrative of Travail and Triumph, Persecution and Exile. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1976; also, Meriwether, David, My Life in the Mountains and on the Plains. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1965.)

Indeed, the entire broad sweep of history, basically for the past millennium—a "thousand years when the devil is unchained"—has been written in the syllables of a Jewish financial and ideological subordination of and aggression against human life: a critical realization which this article, this whole website, Crusade and publications, labor pointedly to convey. So that such familiar concepts as progress must be seen primarily in this light: with genuine advancement, in which many nations East and West have had a share, being clearly distinguished from the false and murderously-exclusionary only in this way. The Synagogue having its own trenchant view of human life, having been heavily involved in the Southern secessionist movement in days prior to the Civil War, and the funding of the Confederacy through crypto-Jewish families like the Bushes, advocating in this way an uniquely-Jewish form of inconceivably-brutal perpetual slavery to which mankind ancient or contemporary had been essentially a complete stranger. While having earlier fulminated a form of global finance which would be the "power behind the throne" in a synagogue-spirited Byzantium, in a global pyramid-scheme which would provide war-chest as well as regional political and geographical familiarity to the Muslim conquest of eighth-century Visigoth Spain. Both these empires being thoroughly honeycombed with trade-routes of "Venetian" and "Genoan" merchants, pathways of interloper "enemies of mankind", who killed the very Savior, "nailing Him to a tree". Only from this viewpoint can history be at all understood—in terms of these ever infiltrating and agitating "movers and shakers"—in the glaring light of whose machinations human values social, political and economic can alone be at last put in their proper relief, of supernatural priorities given pious and deserving liberty and scope. Jewish financial and sociologically-experimental indoctrination and inculcation being the disease which has afflicted the human mind, soul and polity since Christ walked the earth: their sole cure being found in the Gospel Catholic Way. That joyful and peaceful walk illuminated for us generously in two thousand years of Catholic laws and customs, usages and traditions. Boons made accessible to us yet-more-intimately—not in flights of Jewish power-hungry lucre—but through Sacramentally-nourished interior pathways of the soul. The noted blight being a disease of the individual and corporate will, an "inner eye whose light is darkened", blind to the "light that cometh into the world", imposed by a people with an aggressive agenda for which the illusion of martyrdom, of a patently-fabricated "Holocaust", is essentially required. This all the while the Jewish cryptic direction of the entire Nazi project is perfectly evident upon sufficient examinations of historical fact: as with a global-finance-determining Rothschild family with vast holdings in Germany and Austria, spared all real persecution during Hitler's reign, whose one member's brief imprisonment was more like a luxury holiday, to be followed by an apologetical release and a leisurely "escape" to the USA. An astute program being carried forward here, among all the nations of today: one sustained throughout by a blinding dust-storm of Jewish media/academic propaganda, from out of the fabulous storehouse of the biblical "father of lies". All this remaining true even if the synagogue sometimes trains its own youth in traditional virtues, advantages it will deny to others by every available means. Spreading abroad "for popular consumption" an approach to life delusional, completely inimical to grace, a biblical "ten times worse than their own", fraught with a cowardly and quibbling spirit that God will not abide.

Obviously, this sort of thing isn't legitimate government, it is piracy, barbarism, satanism, both at home and abroad. Or to put a finer point on a blunt and toothy blade: it is the application of the age-old Jewish contention that God—or as some atheistic Zionists would doubtless say, the Jewish national-consciousness—in ordering the extermination of the seven Canaanite tribes—actually meant to give a tacit nod of divine approval to the marginalization and ultimate extermination of the biblical "rest of men" as well. And furthermore I have to give us Yanks the credit that its very hard to resist this sort of organized tyranny, these sorts of thug-surrogate-employing dual-citizen Bluebeards: who with preternatural speed and cunning gain access to levers-of-power, who can readily make you "walk the plank" in many ways if you don't go along with their clever-but-grizzly schemes. Even as manifestly it is very difficult to keep from hating such an arrogant species of men, who amply fill the bill in terms of everything which honest humanity hates and detests. This arrogant insanity that simply because others don't entertain such enormous levels of self-glorifying, narcissistic malice that they are therefore of lesser metal than these towering contention-breeding interlopers of all times.

In conclusion: I do indeed and in spite of all the above love the Jews—and even somehow manage to like them in some ways, being as they are a very remarkable and entertaining variety of men—and further anticipate their accession very soon to the One True Faith, after which, subsequent to a divinely-decreed "thinning out" just now looming on the horizon, they will undoubtedly provide much of its leadership and many of its holy men. But I love justice and humanity even more, and give moral space to grizzly enormities of the here-and-now far more than to fanciful patriarchal notions, or anticipated future accessions to virtue and right. And I indeed also execrate the deeds of this latest gunman in France, wantonly killing Jewish school-children at a synagogue school: little ones who can hardly be held to account for anything at all. Although the possibility is always there that this killer was himself a crypto-Jew in disguise—the world numbers of whom are legion—in a deception incredibly often performed, in this inconceivable drive of Jews to sacrifice other Jews "for the survival of the nation", if nothing else. The self-same excuse used to crucify the Savior, Son of David that He was. So that in conclusion we must remark that when a people does all the things that naturally make men hateful to one another, then they cannot expect to be gratefully and affectionately received, and will now and again indeed unleash the fury of the worst elements in any society upon themselves. An explanation I extend to starry-eyed Christian-Zionist gentiles far more than to Jews, who are themselves acquainted with such basic truths far more than I.

March 15, 2012: "Humility before science". (substantially revised).

Ironically appropriate to recent artificially-induced, cataclysmic changes in weather, in the behavior of the moon, even perhaps in the rotation of the earth around the sun—phenomena discussed frequently on this site—was a breathless denunciation delivered to us while out on Crusade, about our “lack of humility before science”. A dressing-down, only another of a long, weary line of diatribes endured quite frequently out there, this one taking place at a certain roadside rest in New Mexico where we had stopped, allowing our Anti-Sodomy Crusade and Frankpledge Party signs to be seen by those passing by. The display in this particular case acting like a red flag in front of a bull to this wildly-vociferating "progressive" guy, this sternly-“correct” fellow who lectured us there on a lunar layout uncannily appropriate for his lofty theme. Launching into a ringing address beside a U.S. 60 which just then passes through widely-scattered satellite-dishes peering eerily upward toward the sky, some twenty of them, each perhaps four or five stories high: structures which comprise the Large Array electronic-telescope series just south of Datil, New Mexico. While further fitting backdrop to stark invective was afforded by the very table-flat, moonscaped geography of the site: a cosmic laboratory on a plateau easily measuring a couple of hundred square miles, a fantastic tableland strikingly like some brightly-sunlit lunar field, ringed by mountains on all sides. And this irrepressible lecturer, actually a relative of a scientist working at the nearby lab, did indeed use the lunar landscape skillfully for his own ready-made auditorium, apprising us that we should “leave deeper matters and mind and soul”, of the “meaning of all things”, to that very scientific community of which he felt himself to be so much a part, a body-of-men he plainly regarded as towering high above lowly mortals such as we. They whom this true-believer trusted could save us handily from all dire and threatening things. (Just like they do so handily now from war, financial and economic collapse, the creation of patently artificial tsunamis and "inside-job" 9/11s, and so on). With this little summary indeed quoting this cold-blooded fanatic almost word-for-word, the best I can remember. Being enjoined with a voice of authority that we lowly unwashed and uneducated must keep our eyes firmly fixed on humbler matters, like the kindergarteners he so obviously regarded us to be.

But as is well-worn knowledge, this classical Gnostic from ages past is far from alone in his scorn for crusaders like us, nor in polar pitches of abject devotion to “the gods of science”: among whom the abortionists, sodomites and organ-snatching doctors he so vehemently defended are regarded as a class-apart. A fanatically-eulogized science-and-engineering which now bring us this odd new tilt of planet Earth, which will ultimately send us all careening who knows where, through once-orderly but now stark and oddly-morphing seasons, and a planetary system more than once in past eons gone woefully awry. An unfounded credulity being standard intellectual equipment for modern-man’s many orbital notional flights, like “Evolution” itself lacking any real evidence, able to claim only the barest conjectural basis in a meager few wildly-telescoped facts and a great many boldly-flourished conjectures, but nonetheless calling forth prostrate ritual intonations for a whole array of modern breast-beaters of the most self-effacing kind. Mesmerized devouts in a new pseudo-religion increasingly requiring of the citizen by the new age Hillary/Obama crypto-secretive state: a totalitarian monolith symbolized so eerily well by that Large Array just then a year or so ago looming so nearby. A shadow-casting Easter Island monstrosity which goes well beyond being just a government: rather demanding a self-effacing personal capitulation demonstrated dutifully by media figures and hand-picked politicos ranked in column and line. A Brave New World seconded indeed by whole new squadrons of drones, poised even now for sly use on the American population—with or without congress or the courts—a citizenry esteemed as but so many Taliban to ceaselessly watch, to be taught how to behave in a meekly-unthreatening way. So much for all this "humility before science and engineering" of the wild-eyed believer of the high plateau. (Distant cousin perhaps to the possessed man of Gerasa, wandering among the tombs, crying out, cutting himself with stones.)

Indeed, demanded above all else by this owl-eyed, implacable new infernal god of Progress is the sacrifice of our liberty, our reason, our conscious, notional being: sweet-meats to infernal, irrational fires. While likewise requiring that quota of blood, as all idols do, in anti-life measures pre-natal and post-natal, in unquestioning domestic oblations and utterly-unjust wars. With these later providing mute burnt-offering victims of much-greater number on the other side of the globe. This new war-god now being placated in a special way in the moral destruction of youth, in an institutionally-imposed program of sodomy, abortion, eugenics: in an Orwellian collective nazification of the human mind and soul. For propaganda-purposes of which ever-newer “terrorists” are easy enough to conjure-up, “set up”, or delude: or indeed to create out of thin air. With black-ops mercenary, Mossad or CIA “assets” killing off a few—or a great many—notable “friends” to “make a point” which “unfortunately” can be made in no other way, about carefully-choreographed “bad guys” of every type. Perhaps even blowing up a synagogue or two, now and again, to impress us with the “anti-Semitism” of all these “madmen”: phantoms mimicked with a ghoulish/signature thrift-of-energy. The ever-demanding Progress deity worshipped in all these monstrous deeds, seated on a throne aglitter with pomp and technical gadgetry, finding close cousins in an ancient Roman pantheon before whose idols early Christians were likewise commanded to do craven worship in much-the-same way, or face a coliseum full of scarcely-more-formidable beasts.

But before you throw yourself on the ground in trembling fear before this new human-sacrificial Moloch, do consider that none of this changes this upwardly-tending nature you were gifted with, having been created to humbly and lovingly adore a real and personal God. One Who will require an accounting from you far stricter than this mere inanimate amalgam of silicone, sub-atomic-particles and steel could ever impose, or the demons and egotists by which it is animated and empowered ever conceive. Reflecting that had mankind honored God with its scientific discoveries we would be allowed to keep them, and to enjoy their fruits, but that since we have used them instead to rebel against the good and merciful divine law these baubles will be taken away from us, like candy from a baby, as is indeed beginning to happen even now. And we will learn once again what it is to tremble before God rather than man. Far from absolving all duties of piety—both in the way our laws are framed and the way we conduct our daily affairs—any useful advances of science and technique are meant foremost to give glory to God. While if instead they are used to honor Baal—to worship this beast with his ever-demanded sweet-meats of abortion, infanticide, euthanasia, eugenics and sodomy—then they will bring us fire and brimstone rather than dainties and comforts, such as fewer and fewer so fleetingly enjoy today. In a fiery fate predicted long ago, presaged dramatically now by rapidly-burgeoning numbers of catastrophic events, some of them noted above.

It is only through prodigious levels of artificially achieved and maintained control that this fable can be sustained, this educational philosophy insinuated, whose essence is found in the contention that "all sense of right and wrong is backward", to paraphrase one prestige-laden global figure, already in the late 1940s. A point-man of that era's cadre of an ongoing agenda, intensifying to this day, toward the rigid institutionalization of grimly "rational" aims, to be progressively enforced by increasingly-inbuilt, sanctions of every kind, ultimately to be rigidly imposed at every turn. Remaining oblivious—like irrational believers in Evolution, or in the competence of scientist to "determine all things"—that rationality or reason is an integral component of morality, an organic part of its definition. That morality or the reaches of spirituality never contradict reason, but rather complete it, give it a soaring purpose, aside from which it is mere pedantic, or even mercenary, tripe. As indeed even lesser realms of simple exalted feeling testify to such an upward ordering: to all but the most banal bore or money-grubbing Scrooge. These modern-day fanatics touting that weird and regimented futurism which nonetheless runs our colleges and determines our foreign and domestic policies, which is forced upon our children at school, on us on the job and in many of our public dealings. The contention plainly being that there is nothing higher than mere toe-or-atom-counting rationality: that we all live in a notional universe in which the tops of our heads scrape a dismally-low-slung sky. The lie of which Orwellian fare is laid bare in plumbing deepest wellsprings in the heart, soul and mind of man—far from breathless hysterics of modern progressive thought—ontological reservoirs which resonate rather with the supernatural, in whose ambiance, like the mighty ocean deep, we were created to "live, move and have our being". With St. Thomas Aquinas telling us that each level of creation, and not just our own, hearkens to something higher than itself, in which to find its fullest, most satisfying, most comprehensive fulfillment, place of rest, destiny. Thus the dog who acts like a member of a family, or the atoms of the very rocks which cleave to one another in order to form some eerie or magnificent splendor they could never in wildest inner rotations have brought into being. Man being designed to live in a world of virtue, to thrive only by that love which uplifts and ennobles, ranging far beyond feeble precincts of earthly pleasure, of tumult and passion, or of a math-worshipping rattled-off essentially-Jewish numerology, whose ever-joyless end is always in calamity and death. Lesser things most of which are shared with hominoids or insects, finding ready analogies in impetuous winds, frigid temperatures or heat-waves. Things far lower than man's exalted domain, if within the same embracing panoply of those created things which God surveyed at creation, and "saw that they were very good". But those who ceaselessly manipulate the fantasies and shell-games of modern money are powerful enough to keep a death-grip on our circumstances, to subject us to what amounts to a regimen of discipline over our very thoughts. Indeed, no honest person could ever achieve or desire such ignominious trophies as these, now falling daily into the hands of self-adoring fools, reveling narcissistically in morbid levels of dishonestly-attained power over their fellow man.

I must say that I, a mere layman, write these things—seeming as it were to preach—because scarcely anyone else does—in the absence of which, almost by a force of nature, "the very rocks"—such as I—"will cry out". Today's clergy almost invariably approaching such subjects—when they do at all—in a spirit woefully inappropriate to the subject matter at hand. With prominent Catholic laymen too lending a woeful hand, like this Scot Hahn on EWTN, and his also-bearded friend, seeming almost to be sharing some titillating private joke when discussing the mystery of the Blessed Trinity. (Is Hahn really a convert to Catholicism, or like a priest I once knew, a "converted Jew" named Ephraimson, rather a crass, faith-undermining traitor who got over the wall?) Or like the Capuchin on the set, with a secretive manner which is supposed to suggest monasticism, but hardly passes the grade, as is evident from the pro-Jewish, pro-war propaganda-mill the station has always basically been, and other non-existent fruits of such "preaching", in a laity which does the docile bidding of the pagan system noted above, generally without the least significant discouragement from Sr. Jane or Fr. Jim.

Granted, the inestimable gift of Faith can be abused, can be unworthily exercised, today's numbers of which "false devotees" (St. Louis DeMontfort) "are legion": as there are always grave responsibilities, even grave dangers that come with great privileges, and the profession of the One True Faith is hardly an exception. With grace's many prodigious rewards being morally counterbalanced by a rueful tendency to somehow actually become proprietary about this great and unmeritable gift, Divine Faith. (These interior good things since the Fall now being acquired by baptism, explicit or implicit, and thereafter retained by a docile receptivity: rather than any longer being a birthright granted from conception on) With the "presumptuous devotee" imagining this immense boon to result from something desirable about or within himself, rather than out of God's own sheer bounty and love. Since the believer has before him, imbedded in a nature fallen in Original Sin, the woeful ability to take everything the wrong way: by dint of the noted primordial wound on our nature, whose existence is accepted primarily on faith, but which is supremely evident in many ways. (All men, ancient primitives to noble Romans and Greeks, always knew that something had gone dreadfully awry for mankind, way back among our first ancestors, although their fabulous explanations for same were always pitifully inadequate or even ludicrous.) Original Sin being contained in a divine punitive withdrawal of initially bestowed privileges: of a graceful, sovereign control over that lower nature which the above-noted free-thinker would have us exclusively serve. So that since Adam and Eve the supernatural is a rocky road onerous and difficult to traverse, strewn with thorns of an entirely-natural (rather than actually "cursed" or degenerate) animal nature, no longer equipped by a dependable if-gratuitously-bestowed gamut of virtues for the upward earthly climb. This while the divine gratuity itself is infallibly attracted by a simple lack of resistance thereto, while its denial is contained in our possession of a deadly and mysterious ability to say "no", the one sole thing in supernatural matters which is actually in our own exclusive power. Our one actual positive boast—if you can call it that—being a mere condition of abject, unassuming powerlessness in realms of the soul. The proud nonetheless imagining themselves privileged protégés, of personal, stational or even class-related worthiness for treasures that Faith pours forth: thereafter going on to heedless and notorious acts of presumption increasingly arrogant and blind, followed ultimately by odors of rank hypocrisy, culminating in a comfortable lethargy and complacency in sin. So that finally our profession itself becomes the Gospel “tinkling brass”, the merest formality, a disguise under which to attain to earthly advantages of every lawful or unlawful kind. From out of which dark inner chasm come aggressive warfare, the exploitation of other persons or nations, the supercilious and effeminate assumption that we are "not like the rest of men", like the ever-symbolic Gospel Pharisee in the synagogue, preening himself disgustingly, as so many such allegedly-pious people are wont.

Yet hardly can the preening hypocrisy of so many be held out as just cause for fits of intellectual-revolt noted above: often indeed provoked by some especially-repulsive example of same. For drawing our own conclusions, oblivious to the wisdom and guidance of God-given authorities and other genuine benefactors, upon whom we are so dependent at birth, and will be in years or days of decline, and often in between. Despising as well the help of a providence upon which we depend in at least as abject a way. Surveying an earnest, adoring and loving universe of creatures, imagining that amid the cosmic poise and order we alone, together with noisy agnostic "friends" that quickly gather around, should stand out in stark exception to the sweetly-harmony within which we dwell. Remaining either rash or dumbfounded, polar orientations ever-ready for quick adaptation to needs of the hour. Should deal with eternally-abiding realities—in the few years allotted us on this earth—as if they were readily understood by minds like ours, only a few years from either the cradle or the grave. Or according to existential theory, as if the things we see were mere chimera in an ever-changing cosmic mind, mirrored by ever-morphing theories of scientific and psychiatric communities, the latter the veritable witch-doctors of this new quasi-intellectual creed. The free thinker standing out brave and solitary at a storm-tossed and chartless helm, convinced that the profound still of the mighty deep of eternity is only a mirror of crashing surface waves of his own tumult within. That he and his friends alone, a ship of fools in such a cosmic company, should face the profound drama of existence—unlike contented, irrational yet mortally-committed creatures on every side—in so detached and abandoned, orphaned a way. Maintaining indeed that this glaringly-defined singularity—of a student who has barely time to get to know the whiteboard, before he must be eternally on his way—is their highest achievement and claim-to-fame. That against all this evidence they were only put here—by some fateful spinning-of-orbs or atoms, and nothing more—to overturn things, and nothing more. Having chosen not to interact lovingly with an universe of creatures that reciprocally enrich across phyla and eons of time, but rather solely among other mortal minds and egos just as arrogant as their own.

At the heart of the blindness that infects the mind of modern educated man is the old and familiar disorientation of "losing the forest for the trees", as the truth isn’t at all so complex as he gropingly perceives it to be, in his hopelessly orphaned and atomized view of things. Rather is it so simple that its higher and lower intuitions readily escape his mole-like mental grasp. Wishing as he does to reconstruct an entire universe atom by atom, when it can only be properly understood in a whole and unitary way: indeed in a single Word which was Spoken before there was time at all. Hence is intellectuality hardly to be equated simply with "rationality"—as modern intellectuals so proudly and airily do—this latter being far down on the human end of the gamut involved. The new Bluebeard nonetheless heedlessly groping around—no doubt muttering and cursing, as might easily be his wont—for particularities to have their own independent meaning: when in fact each micron of the spectrum of created being, emitted through the prism of a contingent temporality in which it dwells, is only a faint reflection, is meaningless outside the Divine Beam from whence it came. A good God having given us a universe most congenial to a loving apprehension, "understanding the things of God by the things that are"—replete with a revelatory meaning open to all, in a true intellectual democracy destined ultimately to be understood through divine Revelation alone, as unveiled in its totality in Catholic Faith. That creed whereby calm and steady prevailing winds fill billowing sails of an inspired Oral Tradition, far from deadly gales of cynical conceits. That majestically-sailing bark within whose canonically-recognized cargo-holds the guiding hand of Scripture itself is alone to be found. Interpreted through Heavenly inspiration by a living, breathing papal pilot above. Humanity by these divine channels readily finding exalted lessons in the lowliest of intermediary things: in a vision perfected in the Catholic Faith, if shared to varying degrees by sincere believers in other less-complete or less-accurate creeds. They who haven’t the incomparable benefit of professing the One True Faith, grasped through a Revelation which is God’s unique ineffably-descending communication to man, yet who have been humble and attentive enough to profit from noted humbler lessons of creation, gathering to themselves horizontally thereby morsels of grace which fly abroad to the benefit of everyone. These, like spotless snowflakes, “like manna from above”, finding their Heavenly origins, in highest mystery, from the very Sacrifice of Calvary, of Holy Mass. Such humble believers remaining in most respects ignorant of, or perhaps even somehow innocently (or “invincibly”) impervious to, the official Revelation itself: easily-enough indeed because of the very rank hypocrisies of self-satisfied Christians, noted above. Alien brothers, pious souls nonetheless, and sincere, who through mysterious avenues profit as well if on a lesser plane, from Sacraments of a creed supported by genuine miracles, these latter necessarily “breaking every law of nature” to be accepted as such. And by this sole standard revealing themselves of origins incontrovertibly divine. A One True Creed redolent finally with a certain “sweetness in believing” which is a foretaste of Heavenly bliss.

Hence is achieved among the good, in each according to his degree, a certain cumulative wholeness of a full or rudimentary faith: learned through solicitudes of a Divinity Who, seeing all things within the singularity of His own divine Being, “not wishing to see us orphans”, grants us—again “according to the measure of our faith”, although “darkly, as through a mirror”—essentially the same vision as His very own, if through the humbler prism of our inductive perception of humbler things. These biblical "things that are" by which we most fundamentally know God, a cosmic assemblage of creatures which is like a tapestry for wondering minds and souls, in which we assemble to a higher and divine meaning all these lesser things, these creaturely brothers-of-ours though they be. In an earthly horizon to which a cold, unaided, ever-questioning and ever-atomizing analysis, much touted by secular-agnostics of every stripe, is woefully blind, easily leads us leagues astray. Revealing as they do a mind in which genuine uplifting love has no place.

Plainly at home within this holism are Seven Sacraments to feed our souls, so that we are accounted merest sheep in the imageries involved, a bleating flock to be both fed and led: a parallelism of such simplicity corresponding supremely well to a divine Mind which sees or rather speaks His entire uncreated Substance in His one Eternal Word, His Son. That Second Person of the Blessed Trinity within which divine “Image of His Substance” the “ideas of all things” are apprehended by the Father as “not distinct from Himself” (Aquinas). No pantheism here, but a mystery much more sublime, in a Deity which through this all-originating divine self-projection provides a universal, univocal template into which all lesser things are somehow and so lovingly poured. (Would you find a better explanation for all these things, thou fool, like for instance this latest folly that there is some sort of "physical, cosmic brain" out there, running it all? Oh, great enlightened and progressive one, go back to your club-wielding, orgiastic cave.) Creation thus forming a single enveloping image of crystalline integrity—and no “backward fable” or superstitious lore—thus readily and fittingly encompassing in the same all-identifying Utterance, or fabric-of-created-reality, the primitive existence of the sheep, the human mind and soul, and the divergent foods which nourish each and all. Indeed, in such a Godly cosmic imagery, poetry, harmony, elegance, things that move the human heart and soul, are intrinsically at home, are accurately perceived as symbols or analogies of a yet-deeper Mystery eternally unplumbed. Of which the Seven Sacraments are themselves both humbly-allegorical vessel and ineffable content, fitting food for the flock of human souls. Catholicism joyfully departing the hothouse world of atomizing analytical procedures, which fittingly produce the cold metallic existence of our day, the True Faith being indeed a creed readily accessible to the illiterate, the mentally-impaired, the physically-blind, they who so often readily see with that “inward eye”. Which in the person of others immersed in the biblical “darkness” is true and dense ignorance epitomized. These faithful rejecting out-of-hand vain rationalisms which leave the soul stone cold, believers who holds as kin all other created things, count themselves, as suggested above, as Franciscan brothers to the fox or the dove in a fabric held together across all phyla. All this in a womb-like complexity ultimately univocal throughout, breathing forth the very loving care, the all-interpreting Simplicity of God. In the face of which incomprehensible yet eminently-embraceable unitary star cloud of annihilating majesty the vaunted complexity of rebel fallen man is by contrast always clumsy, truncated, loses itself down drunken dead-ends and dark alleys from whence, as in endless caverns of Hell, it can never re-emerge. Such is the fateful and destructive “progress” we have today: an ever-morphing chimera in infernal contrast to Heavenly order and peace. Plied by those proud ones whom alone God "resists", whose dark destiny will be their own witness to that annihilating majesty they would deny.

This orphan, modern intellectually “liberated” man, having thus embraced the very wind, readily espouses as well the epic incongruities of a modern Marxist-dialectical, yin/yang vision of “progress”: a worlds-in-collision cacophony whose clashing polarities are alleged to have freed us from “ignorant” bonds of a pious and intellectually-orderly past. Of a mankind among whom something so allegedly-backward as expiation for sin—the most despised of all notions to this self-made man and his noisy friends—has been an universally-recognized reality from the very start, as depicted in literature, legends and cherished traditions handed down. Among an above-noted humanity whose unguided ideas about same, if commonly spurred on by inchoate impulses fervent and sincere, are nonetheless obscure, full of charms and superstitions, sadly confused. But proving himself far more backward than the generality of pious and fearful men, so “advanced” and “independent” a modern is likely-enough to flatter himself that radical-interventionist nation-building expeditions and “war on terror” invasions are but so many rare blessings for targeted peoples involved, “ignorant ones” whom progressive paragons favor with bloody Hillary attentions thus sanctimoniously bestowed. Even as these same victims search for a spiritual meaning to their agonies that lies far beyond such vain and superficial scope. Yet further, the same “enlightened” “rule of law” and bloody insistence on “free institutions” goes marching on to reap mounting havoc in climatic catastrophe, as well as in a global-systemic water pollution and subsequent stock-market “tradable” commoditization of this life-giving, crystalline gold. In a “free trade” whose miserly and apocalyptic results are deadly for vast populations in certain large parts of the globe. “Progressive” calamity likewise being found in a wholesale farming—or recreational slaughtering—of wildlife predators of sea and land: with “fun”-obsessed “winners” in all this precipitous “freedom” overthrowing disastrously and in a trice a perfectly-poised, piously-preserved, animal-life-conserving balance of eons in time. (All of which hardly requires that we treat mere animals as if they were actual human beings, with legal rights indeed, as in California, towering high above our very own). This in a womb-like earthly biosphere adjusted and synchronized so lovingly, infinitesimally and so long ago by a divine hand. A crass and cock-like modern man—dragging behind him his lonely and alienated, ruined and aborted or quietly-euthenized generations, on a scroll of other dire modern-era catastrophes too lengthy to detail here—likewise discarding out-of-hand and with utter contempt a set of social, economic and political instincts and principles providentially conferred on our race, stamped on our hearts, written in our very social natures, further perfected under the Gospel-inspired influence of grace. Hardly needing any "advanced and enlightened" Adam Smith, nor his "Invisible Hand" to deftly pick our pockets bare. Principles which even the most truly-backward of primitives have tended to respect, both out of love and from an innate fear of rashly overturning a mutually-venerated wisdom somehow, often in age-hoary mystery, passed down. This heedless scrapper, modern mass-indoctrinated, politically-“correct” rebel-man—neo-con or ever-zany liberal, take your pick—predictably preferring his own vaunted, radical modern ideologies to the very bitter end, heady notions which battle like titanic monsters in a fiery sky, wreaking bloodshed and genuine-backwardness in their pitiless, remorseless, unsparing way. This swaggering spirit-of-rebellion being a moral epidemic we must resist with all our strength, as we fly to a God Who Is both the Creator of all things and the One to Whom we must come for any understanding at all. The Fount of Being, the harbor and Heavenly Originator of all wisdom and sanity, order and peace.

Vaunted technological discoveries of such a mentally-colonizing Bluebeard—these the very pith of a modern progress so haphazardly construed—are increasingly found to be monumentally trivial and comparatively useless today. Being comprised of a mounting infinitude of progressively-smaller gadgets and gismos, mostly-communications-related trinkets increasingly rendering all life second, third or fourth hand, mere beads and baubles much as once awed gaping primitives, a tinsel whose planned obsolescence makes more trash-heaps than earth can hold. Flash-in-the-pan wonders whose infrastructural path dependencies pour in concrete a way-of-life rigidly-predetermined and increasingly ugly, unnatural and surreal. “Advances” spawned by academic whose pronouncements are for all that unquestioningly adhered-to by an increasingly-totalitarian agnostic secular state, seconded darkly by the swashbuckling intellectual-mariner, surrendered-to without contest by supine and breathless citizen-passengers. The citizen today cringing before menacing figures on such a ship-of-fools, before schools and media coarse and loud, claiming, godlike, to be a law unto themselves, even after all the pitch-and-yaw, the dire calamities, they have so recently and obviously brought into being. Leaders whose loud claims of “feeding mankind” are belied by a globe full of farmland increasingly abandoned in wholesale flights to towns. Towering figures who give us tenth-hand food from a sparse patch-work of corporate agrifirms that remain: sustenance genetically modified, cellulose disastrously toughened, for woody preservation, designed for mad and gratuitous, tyranny-bolstering, ocean-going trips around the globe. Such an impoverished “trickle down” finally convincing many to “hedge their own bets”, to peddle dope to “stay ahead of the game”, in that dishonest kind of employment which increasingly, in one sort of larceny or another, is the only type allowed. Labor thus losing its intrinsic moral place in the cosmos of man, under this arrogant tutelage of "self-made men", work become no longer an uniquely stable and sustaining path on our way to God. The people thus treacherously led coming by stages to adamantly reject any need for a steadfast tradition of saints, prophets, mystics and divine revelations lovingly and tremulously “handed down”. These true blessings conferred by the same divine hand, if through another and more exalted mode, as molded sea, stars and land. Man today holding that once-honored Christian moral, political and intellectual treasures, fed at the same ineffable Heavenly streams, are equally to be discarded, like bilge in a trash-strewn sea, with little if any thought, as he sails heedlessly wherever blustery squalls might go. Dealing out drone-bombs and domestic-terror-dealing black-ops intrigue as “liberty loving” convincers, to those “backward ones” not so easily swayed.

Oh yes, arrogant man, deny such things, insist stoutly on your own "sweet will" and whim: and ready yourself to tumble headlong into Hell. Ah, then, those many "friends" that now press in around your ears won't be there just then, to share your fate. No, that dark and terrible downward journey you must make all by yourself.

It is because God made us, because we are His mere creaturely tools, or musical instruments upon which he chooses to play, composing a melody of a rapturous divine simplicity, in the very octaves of our complexity: it is because of this divine folly-bordering generosity that there is a Hell. For even as creation teaches us of penalties for shortsights and follies in handling creatures and objects below, so does that higher and intrinsically-immortal plane contain penalties much more substantial, all its own. For God will have us dwell in this truth, this faithfulness, this complex simplicity, or He will have us not at all. Hurling a rejection of an intellectual substance whose nature is such, fatefully-enough, that it cannot be actually annihilated once it is made: for such is the realm of the supernatural, not to be either explained, plumbed or disowned. Just as we, on our own humble plane, might simply throw into the fire a tool we ourselves had made, that had become a law unto itself. That would attack we ourselves and our own laborious projects with destructive fury: calling our blueprint infantile, its own bizarre assaults sublime.

March 10, 2012: Brainwash and the onslaught of the minutiae, more thoughts on the fatal bewilderment of modern man.

Constituting the ultimate meaning of a "modern way of life" is the abandonment by men of their eternal moorings, in an institutional behavioral amalgam held together by the glue of ill-gotten, or vain and non-productive, gain. Indeed even chief figures in the Catholic Church, including at least one pope, already in the early 1800s, sought and obtained loans from Jewish money-lenders like the Rothschilds, discarding all prior papal warnings and prohibitions, blinding themselves thereby to densening intrigues of world financiers. They who forthwith and with new-found liberty used avenues-of-influence thus secured to conspire against the Church, cultivating in particular a spirit of humanistic liberalism that would thereafter flourish in seminaries and other ecclesiastical precincts. This utterly alien motivation being destined to erupt in a startling way already at the Vatican I Council in the 1860s and 70s, pursuant to the age-old remorseless, ever-infiltrating aim of the synagogue to marginalize the good and devout within the very Church itself, to replace them with the lukewarm, effeminate and ultimately the perverse. While today's version of the same aggressive agenda finds world finance newly allied to a rapidly-advancing technology, able thus equipped to leap across new boundaries in a superman-like "single bound", achieving new powers as never before. With lender leverage over innumerable minutiae of material existence being radically amplified apace, allowing they and a host of well-rewarded confederates the world over to orchestrate earthly life in ways utterly alien to the needs of the soul. With the press, academia, the interconnected higher circles of finance and the state heaping garlands of praise around hooves of a newly-erected sacred cow of "progress", in a delirious adulation that would come by our own day to crowd out all public and most private recognition of the spiritual or divine. Allowing these only the most trivial levels of recognition among other much-touted affairs of men.

This impious quasi-omnipotence of the Jews was easily made to look extremely benign, readily humanitarian: using their new financially-enabled industrial and technological dominion over material details of life after the manner of a sculptor: being deftly able to mock or model reality at will. Within which overpowering appearances of progressive idealism however the Rothschild biographer of the 1960s seems to casually admit—to those who know how to read between Jewish lines, in a disconnected series of zany and ever-sardonic hints, over the space of ten or fifteen pages—that that family actually arranged the assassinations of both the Empress Elizabeth of Austria and one of her sons, a few months apart, during the 1880s. Although the death of the son, together with his mistress, was reported as a suicide. The empress herself having been a devout Catholic who exerted tremendous sway over the policies of her husband Franz Josef, even as these twin killings at the highest of international levels have for the most part entirely escaped the memories of men. Although the demise of the Archduke Ferdinand of the same family—no doubt through much the same telescoping instrumentality—would be a much more historically-familiar event, taking place a mere thirty years later, touching off World War I. Here being found the fatal price which both of the former royalty paid for a "liberal-minded" friendship and free-and-unguarded association with Jews: mother and son having spent days or weeks in the Rothschild family circle with no security at all, with the Empress having traveled incognito to and fro, on that last fatal trip, with only one female attendant. Less than a day after leaving the Rothschild estate being stabbed to death by "an anarchist", just after this newer victim had learned of the prior presence at the opulent retreat of her recently-deceased son and his mistress, just before their own demise. Sensing instantly as she did that her own death was closing upon her with intrepid steps. (Morton, Frederic, The Rothschilds: a Family Portrait. New York: Atheneum, 1962.) Ah, how even back then these "madmen" would so conveniently appear—as in that other "anarchist assassination" of the Russian Czar Alexander, which took place within a few years of this throne-rocking Austrian event—when some "nation building" regime change was "required" or desired. The immemorial Jewish agenda being ever un-tempered by anything like the love and mercy of that Christ Whom they continue so remorselessly to reject, whose forefathers "hung Him on a tree", in the words of the Apostle. Those first century Jews whose deed they seek always and in every particular to reiterate, to glorify to the highest possible degree.

Indeed, this particular family of inbred incestuates, the Rothschilds, were ignominiously wined and dined by all the Christian nobility of Europe, given noble Christian titles, admitted into devout Catholic lay-orders, complete with cruciform metals and medallions: Jews whom previous popes have always warned are quite willing to kill a Christian without any qualms-of-conscience at all. No doubt especially if it will serve some "higher aim". Here being provided for us—in the history of the nineteenth century—a veritable blueprint for the forces that would rule the twentieth and the beginning of the new millennium. Here too being found background for Our Lady of Fatima's prediction of a moral-and-spiritual chastisement punctuated by two world wars, an ultimate test of humanity, modeling precisely that of Job, to culminate soon however in a glorious resurgence of Catholic Faith. Declaring as she does that "in the end my Immaculate Heart will triumph, Russia will be converted, and there will be peace": meaning as we can see now a peace on all planes, moral and political, a vanquishing of the Jewish "progressive" and mortally-coercive monopoly over the overwhelming minutiae of material life. Halting by her merest Heavenly nod, seconded by armies of Heavenly hosts, this long-standing synagogue infiltration and commandeering of all outward forms of culture, of faith, of offices of the Catholic Church, these now poisoned in every public manifestation of today. This reversal of machinations of a cunning breed, this rampant, triumphant victory, this coming Age of Mary having been rapturously predicted by St. Louis DeMontfort at the beginning of the eighteenth century. A fast-approaching renaissance in which Russia will have a decisive role.

Today's puppet powers in the media and other dominating institutions will undoubtedly chuckle over this elevating of the Rothschilds to such plateaus of importance, no doubt calling them "has-beens", alleging that other players have taken their place. And indeed this may be true, as for one thing a family that intermarries for seven generations, first cousin to first cousin, niece to uncle, etc. ad nauseam, "to keep the money (and power) in the family", cannot be expected to exert much further sway, with dire genetic consequences of insanity, lassitude, imbecility that inevitably ensue. Although much of modern eugenic research is no doubt motivated to provide remedies for unnatural intermarriage and the like, so that the well-to-do may suffer nothing from their excesses. But an essential feature of Jewry is that Jews work in incredible concert with one another, that their momentary rivalries are always at some level subordinated to the unwavering cause of two millennia. Being remorselessly intent upon the ownership of "the wealth of nations" (in a cynical misinterpretation of a psalm): a diabolical ambition powered by a further belief that "the rest of men" are like fodder under Jewish feet, that any least justification allows them to exterminate us "for the sake of the Jewish nation". Just as they "justified" the very Deicide itself. Albeit doing all this treachery with all the required Jewish obsequiousness and tail-wagging, "marvelously funny" bonhomie. Here then being a Caliphate of an infernal kind, such as no Muslim ever designed: one however destined soon to go down in deepest ignominy and defeat. Such a dragon to be crushed under Our Blessed Lady's maiden feet, a stygian project which has indeed lain in wait for just such a humiliating fate, together with that serpent, that "father of lies", which is its very heart and soul.

For now however, in this latter day, we are instructed by Our Blessed Lord to "lift up your heads, for your redemption is at hand": all the while we must endure this dust-storm of the minutiae, of random particulates of a perverted but rigidly-imposed official, ecclesiastical, educational and corporate/industrial way-of-life. Amid which sandstorm of the faith-alien, vulgar and inane various financially-manipulated organs-of-dissemination claim loudly to represent the Catholic Church, no-doubt most notable among them being the "global Catholic network" EWTN. "Catholic" institutions of all sorts which expend great pains to maintain an extremely impressive superstructure, within which are however inevitably incorporated many of the noted soul-alien details of modern life, of this all-enveloping synagogue-arbitrated approach. Allegedly holy promotional enterprises gathering up last exasperated threads of Catholic resistance into this new polemical thunderhead of "much wind but no rain", having been compromised long ago at its shallow roots: with the genuine Catholic resurgence awaiting those signal occurrences predicted by Our Blessed Lady at Fatima. All the while these eager modern-day efforts meanwhile show themselves pathetically unable to filter-out a great many of the lies and misrepresentations that everywhere today abound. A host of ever-infiltrating Jews and biblically-identified "Judaizers"—the latter being lukewarm Christians who know supremely well "where their bread is buttered"—both these elements finding their way easily into religious/corporate/media efforts of this kind: while Jews in particular remain cynically assured that only a little time remains before their fait accompli becomes irreversible. A time when "the mask will be (willingly) torn (or rather taken) off" of this shameful plan of two centuries and more, of Jewry and its Masonic and other secret-society handmaidens. This admixture of the true and the false lumbering forth in today's Catholic circles after the tragic/comic manner of a juggling-act gone bad, suggesting as well the specter of a kind of Chinese floating dragon: an artificially-impressive churchly superstructure filled with the hot air of an unfounded optimism bordering on fantasy. This rather than with the unsparingly grave and sober "breeze" of the Holy Ghost at the mouth of the prophetic cave.

Manifestly, the only thing missing in all these belabored efforts is the supernatural: its absence calling forth monumental labors of these various allegedly Catholic groups: as it is no small thing to attempt to replace God Himself, and His genuine mystery-bound activities. All of which need no corporate board to see them through. Evidence of which ceaseless vitality were once the constant unharried legacy of Catholic ages past: an inheritance calmly handed-down to the faithful of my childhood, to my good parents and their friends and fellow-parishioners, amid a profound "peace which the world" and the ever-insidious Jews "cannot give". The Holy Ghost, when in charge of His own "household of the Faith", as is His habitual wont, seeing without such vain and tumultuous efforts that "all things are disposed mightily".

But in such a vacuum, of such an Absence, in obscure tumults over decades since Vatican II, this polar-contrasting magnificent and Heavenly orchestration—of "all things great and small"—was destined fifty-some years ago to be temporarily supplanted, by dint of the same Jewish intrigue. Being replaced almost overnight by the great noisy showmanship of the "church windows thrown open" of "Blessed" John XXIII. Here being found culminating phases of the noted advancing ecclesiastical overthrow, a spiritual catastrophe referred to in prophetic terms by Pope Leo XIII, and repeatedly thereafter by Pope St. Pius X, his successor: and indeed by prior holy visionaries of a thousand years. While St. Pius, always in robust health, would die suddenly, and to me suspiciously, just before the start of a World War I he was just-then attempting desperately to prevent. Suggesting the presence of enemy agents in the Vatican itself, an infiltration that would become all-too-apparent in years just prior to Vatican II.

Here then a breathless "aggiornamiento" exhibition which has proceeded with ponderous, elephantine abandon to this very day: if within a long series of minor changes of vocabulary or body-language, all the while church-pews catastrophically empty of genuine believers. Even if some, as Venerable Anne Katherine Emmerich prophetically assured us, may be able to save their souls, being "invincibly ignorant" of what is actually taking place. Having been convinced, with an untroubled brow, by all the commandeered pomp and circumstance, by the gigantic Chinese paper-float of New Church propaganda gliding aloft in the air. A fanfare which can sometimes present appearances of the most Catholic kind.

But the only thing is, God is going to "shorten the time", so that the much-anticipated fait accompli of our enemies will be stopped dead in its tracks. And the Catholic Gospel "Way"—to which even the Sacraments are only a means—will once again convey souls Heavenward, be cleared of prohibitive obstacles now strewn under wayfarers' feet. And the reign of the two Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary—the divinity of the first and the immaculate humanity of the Mother of Divine Grace qualifying both uniquely for such a commission—will gloriously commence, extending, by grace, providence and universal popular choice, the divine authority over laws and governments, customs and habits, the world over, just before the end of time.

March 6, 2012: The multiculturalism debate, a perfect example of the stonewalling see-saw of D.C. Some revisions here.

Always in these arguments the solution would be forthcoming instantly or in short-order if we would simply reduce the topic to its fundamentals: but the trick of the devious here is to pretend that each issue floats, as it were, out there in idea-land, in a kind of sea or slurry, and has no relation to any other issue, and especially to any fundamental, mental-shore-anchoring truth. The politically-insidious—of whom "there are legion" in D.C.—with wonted flint-faced heroism maintaining their Theory of Un-relativity amid stifling airs of pseudo-intellectuality which quickly render all intelligent discussion stillborn. Much indeed as in the fate of the babe under tender mercies of the standard "birth control pill": that unacknowledged killer of life in the womb which is far more efficient in its death-dealing power than that "morning after" pill which is much touted by politicos of every stripe. The former and long-familiar "pill" being thus a deftly-ignored homicide—of which many of the "pro life" might have a medicine-cabinet full—one which finds striking analogy in the noted discussion-related stout denial of any mooring-to-universal-principle. Sharp or airy words duplicating graphically "the pill" in its rejection of umbilical-cord attachment to the blood-rich, nourishing placenta or wall of the womb, with the trick in all such matters being a combatively-maintained contention that—for this life-giving nexus-to-universal-principle to ever take place—there has to be initiated another whole new discussion. This in turn providing striking tactical analogy as well to the way in which a prior ten years of systematic, organized abuse of an initially mildly-convalescent Terri Schiavo would be adjudged "irrelevant" to the "right" of her "husband" to go on from there and pull the respirator cord". In Congress averring a supposedly-arduous establishing-of-a-connection to require a whole battalion of provisional definitions, or hoary and tendentious legal precedents, in grand Bertrand Russell logical-positivist style. This in order simply to pass a perfectly-ordinary bill, or to maintain the rectitude of preventing a sadistic, drawn-out murder that in all essentials is as plain as the nose on your face.

Of course these hyper-loquacious people regard themselves as the democratic paragons of the ages—isn't democracy all about such a gift-for-gab?—although they will never admit that this intellectually-atomizing mania positively precludes anything like that actual consultation which is the immemorial pith of legitimate government of any form. A matter of separate wills malleable only in the forge and under the hammer of the common material and inseparable moral good. All these unrehearsed matters of staggering consequence to the state being rather glibly consigned to certain chosen elites: these king-makers no doubt trading input with one another by way of merest nods or dagger-like Rothschildian grunts or glances, their ever-dictatorial say-so requiring no intelligent discussion at all. Those patent political oligarchs in whose service the noted ever-garrulous and effeminate elite never stops its French-salon-style gab, which dominates and monopolizes the public debate, running cover for these towering but unacknowledged "back room" figures who so impassively divide and rule. This in verbal ball-juggling exercises so yawningly-common on C-Span, where the discussion generally ranges from some ten-minute "patriotic" tirade of canned John-McCain-style rage, on the one hand, to outer reaches of the zany or blank-faced indifferent, on the other. Frequently as punctuated by some tired formula of "you have to define what you mean by that".

Do some people speak of armed insurrection, when they watch the only chance there is to redress public issues deteriorate into this sort of "gay"-bar gab? And who is to be considered the less intelligent or loyal for that?

Hence this issue of multiculturalism: which like all other issues to be discussed in any intelligent and Godly way must be reduced to its fundamental premises. First of all the question—what is culture?—although this dictionary-process doesn't just go on and on from there, as in the case of the logical positivists, with their incessant, discussion-crippling "you have to define your terms" being like dishonorable grapeshot to any vigorously-advancing intellectual brigade. Hardly then do honest debaters aspire to rigidly maintain the notional standard of that seventeenth-century Descartes who always reduced every topic to an allegedly-earthshaking "I think, therefore I am", before he would go on from there, only then being equipped to ponder why it was that he ran so bruisingly into the edge of the open door. But on to our definition of culture: to be what it truly is, culture must be entirely free, and indeed for the most part entirely unselfconscious as well. Otherwise it isn't culture at all, but rather something more like indoctrination. Here being discovered—in rapt confounded surprise to some—the reason that the Irish or Croatian music we so love sends us into ecstasies—exactly because it follows the subliminal contours of who we are in our deepest, freest and most personally-sacred selves.

Once culture is acknowledged quintessentially to be entirely free then all these hot arguments about it mostly evaporate away like the morning dew in the light of a smiling sun. Although, as the name traditionally implies, culture doesn't degenerate into boorish or destructive behavior, or it becomes bathos, or some sort of overwrought machismo instead: a horse of an entirely different color, amid steeds which take their pedigree from the Thomistic principle that "virtue lies in the middle". And true culture is a kind of civic virtue indeed. Hence for a Croat like me culture will always be fundamentally Croatian, if with the admixture of certain entirely-voluntary—indeed perfectly-unselfconscious—elements drawn from among those marvelous Irish, English, Belgians, Italians, Frenchmen, Vietnamese, Spanish, Portuguese and Japanese of earlier traveling years—peppered later with a host of Scotch, Chinese, Iranians, and other West-Asians and Central-Europeans that I met in returns to college or while out on Crusade. They who did so much to form me into who I most intrinsically and unselfconsciously am.

Once this primacy of the individual person, of the will, of freedom, is taken into proper account, then we can proceed to the question of official languages, "latino studies", and so on. While if culture is truly nourished—which it must be, if there is to be motivated any vigorous social, political or economic life at all—then these seemingly-tangled consultative issue can be resolved in a host of free and un-coerced, un-intimidated ways. If only those involved be truly devoted to the common good: as noted above the very loadstone of all consultation and public debate. Invoking that true patriotism by which we leave aside in particular irredentism or revanchism, which in almost every case are primarily introduced by alien elements which wish astutely to divide and rule.

But what all these great gabby paragons—or bombastic, consultation-preemptive McCains—want to do is to destroy culture, hardly to erect a great many of them at one time, as if by one long, windy breath. Rather being bent on reducing us all to a ground-up slurry which their towering mentors can then more easily rule, so as the more easily to turn our kids into faithless sodomite fools. For which purposes is erected official discussion more like a slinging of insults or a knit-picking at the way you dot your "I's" or cross your "T's". And although the McCains of this world might jump at any chance to appear pro-Latino or pro-any-ethnic-group, there is another sort of right-winger who takes a polar tack from these assorted word-sowers, alleging that "culture is always and everywhere the same", in ringing one-sentence tones as if making an unshakeable act of faith. People who carry around an onerous baggage of such commandments "of men", and thus of course have little if any room in their minds or energies for that certain troublesome Ten, and certainly not for that demanding and time-consuming Two, in which are summed up "the law and the prophets". Their little gem of an epigram—about culture being "always and everywhere the same"—being a quote from a certain CRC, or Catholic Counter-reform, of some sort of Philange. Close cousin no doubt to an identically-named group of the radical-Catholic Lebanese, who butchered thousands of Muslims in that country, with the help of the ever-helpful Israelis, around 1983. These philangists of every stripe being more or less after the pattern of WWII-era Franco: he whose name, incidentally, is an universal European word which means roughly "court Jew". After such monumental statements of iron-chinned conviction all these philangists no doubt rank themselves in column and line and give some sort of grim salute.

Of course, breathless ultra-liberal palaverers would have filled in all the above with about twenty interjections of "what I hear you saying is…is", while noted ultra-right-wingers would no doubt reply with a supercilious O'Reillian sneer, and nothing more. But we needn't really concern ourselves with all of that.

March 5, 2012: Putin and human perfectibility.

As much as modern secular democracy demands the "right" of everyone to do wrong—all the while mammoth prisons are designed for criminals that unerringly multiply under the spur of such an indulgent philosophy—and all the while this descent to the depths of human dereliction is called a glorious emancipation—yet in the self-same thrifty breath the same breathless crowd claims stoutly that mankind and its institutions, under such self-collapsing notions, are entirely perfectible. Indeed that given the simple establishment of certain latter-day modes, methods or processes—distilled in various checks-and-balances that allegedly operate like a kind of perpetual-motion machine, entirely of their own hummingly-efficient and impersonal accord—that this deus ex machina will turn out perfect and perfectly-happy human beings. Of course one need only look a few hundred yards down such a smoothly-paved road to see that this is all simply Jewish secular-messianism in its brightest and most attractive guise, especially since this ringing paradigm takes for granted the complete dismantlement of the pious and orderly Christian Civilization that went before, and its replacement by an abstract system readily guided by a kind of remote control, by persons who are very personal in their approach, indeed morbidly so. A whole impregnable system that is different in every significant particular from all our forefathers once held dear, even if some few substance-gutted former vestiges are allowed to remain. That perhaps which is removed most pointedly being a loyalty which loves and looks upon a tried-and-true leader as a father, which finds nothing at all negative in seeing him stay around until he decides to retire. Or even indeed to pass his reign down to a son reasonably likely to be of much the same proven metal, having been schooled in so incomparable a way. No, the modern system wants a lot of neophytes whose sheer numbers are said to cancel out mediocrity or depravity, plowing up evil personal propensities like some bawling herd of cattle might plow up any colorful foliage that lay in its path. Ah, indeed, if human institutions could be evaluated in such physics-lab terms—of an atomic-particle weighing-in-balances of contrary elements, of analyzing spectroscopic projections, or evaluating bits of color cast off by Bunsen-burners all aglow—then we could all be quite happy and content with such an allegedly self-perpetuating form. But alas all this monumental effort of two centuries and more—of calculations and projections of financiers who designed all these spinning orbs—has rather brought us all to the brink of ruin, and many indeed over its edge. So much for human perfectibility, certainly of this political/economic-physics-lab kind.

Yet most today accept this perfectibility paradigm like a fervently-held creed—all the while it consumes our youth in vice, unemployment and hecatomic wars—and call it democratic all the while it deploys a pecking-order that would make court-favorites of seventeenth-century monarchs green with envy. No indeed, self-government is developed to the degree we all develop as moral and fully-functioning human beings, and not before. And the fact is that modern systems will have none of it: preferring in every case the bawling herd, or the mass of atoms billowing into a mushroom cloud. And furthermore it is people like Putin who bring self-government about if it is ever going to be, by having, less-visibly during the long and tortured decade of the nineties, and later during his term as president, given his people a heart to live, a legacy to embrace, a meaning as a people which Wall Street or the Pentagon—let alone the corner synagogue—will never give. Is it by his choice that were he to go the whole country would once again convulse into ruin, be once again a prey to the Wall Street crowd that looted Russian assets and liquidity, while the nation was distracted, writhing in obscure revolutionary ferments of the Yeltzin crowd? Does this recognition of his own critical importance mean that democracy means nothing to him?

But democracy of any meaningful kind takes time, and a great deal of pains, and oceans of popular self-respect and mutual devotion: things none of which are gained among cleverly-controlled and media-manipulated mobs shouting in the streets. That mindless force which alas fits quite well in the physics-lab notions of politics and democracy which imperially reign here in the USA, in this our enlightened Hillary-and-Obama day.

March 4, 2012: The pursuit of goodness in the political sphere: the only true place of the state. American political hypocrisy in this regard. Rework of article of 2/29.

There are certain things which are never said frequently enough, and paramount among these is the axiom that goodness is the entire purpose of the state. But since the Revolutionary era a view of the state has been advanced which replaces the pursuit of goodness with the pursuit of liberty and happiness: which is to put the cart before the horse, to jump light years past the proper human and rational avenue for the attainment of the latter two. For man is not free—let alone happy—like a piece of shrapnel violently released from an exploding grenade, but rather like a bird which calmly obeys the nature God gave it. Or perhaps more compellingly and essentially like a conclusion which follows from a syllogism, exuberantly and unerringly from premises put forth. Hence the question: is it really so earthshaking an event that people should want to actually be good—not just personally but in an organized way—and as beings and polities with bodies and souls should further wish to put this goodness into concrete material deeds and institutions? And conversely can it be the proper event in organized earthly affairs—a permanent convention beyond which sane men and societies do not go—that morality should be entirely banished, aside from any negative impact upon some tiny elite, which rules with a velvet-coated iron glove? Casting all such cowardly sentiments aside, we of the Crusade see law as establishing the very law of God on earth, immovably maintaining that to that degree alone to which it is faithful to this one and only commission, to that degree will that society be blessed, its officials save their souls. And take the bulk of the citizenry with them on their upward flight, as Jesus stated quite plainly to Sr. Josepha Menendez around 1922. Can anyone possibly take this commission "too seriously"? Certainly, a sense of humor is a big part of the whole process, of this golden harvest, of souls rather than barley or coins, but this higher and nobler purpose and its iron-willed determination must remain the same. Else such an officialdom be on its own level like the Gospel "salt which has lost its savor, and is fit for nothing but to be trodden underfoot by men".

Hence intrinsic to this goodness-seeking view of the state which we embrace is the immemorial Catholic idea of salvation as being for everyone: that there is no elite meant for Heavenly glory and earthly glee, and a far-bigger remainder meant for eternal flames and endless earthly misery. "The blind leading the blind, and in the usual event "both"—putative saved and unsaved—"falling into the pit". Affirming as we do that souls as well as states must intrinsically pursue this universal objective, while maintaining indeed that much-demanded sense-of-humor, as the state can force everyone to be good only to a certain point, after which, in another and opposite sense from the above, it treats them less as persons, whom trust enables and distrust disables, than as animals or chattel. But that the state should ply many forceful—and sometimes in a sense indeed forcible—inducements—in the direction that man should be good instead of bad—well, this is all quite axiomatic, rings with the truth of a syllogism. While likewise being the traditional understanding of the commission given by Christ to "he who bears the sword". And manifestly there can be nothing "bad" about thus humoring, cajoling and in some ways "compelling" men to be good: rather than allowing them indulgently to remain bad, to wend their merry way to Hell. Else, again, society be cut off at the neckline, and all human pursuits be seen as physical in nature, or at best airily, esoterically intellectual. All the while that which is highest and most noble is thus guillotined and thrown into the sewer, just as were the heads of the noblest of clerics and laymen in Revolutionary France. As the nation really does have a certain exalted, socially-binding commission to pursue, else man is not after all a social being: and that noble destiny can hardly be identified as the latest radical agenda of Obama, Planned Parenthood or the NEA. And one need only have experienced a group activity of a morally-exalted kind to know how infinitely higher such an experience is from today's typically herd-like school or workplace environment, where men are adjudged little more than herds of milling, grunting swine.

Hence do we true Catholics always stand committed to all of mankind, to ministering to their eternal and essential good: for which purpose truly good government—enforcing as best we know how only the law of God—that which alone directs our deeds Heavenward—and grants us the only genuine modicum of earthly joy we will ever know—is ever the aim of the Frankpledge Party and Anti-sodomy Crusade. But in today's Western political world this is to be on a lonely perch indeed, albeit one shared with "the rest of men", with the bulk of mankind. Together with whom, like pressing crowds of Gospel times, we share this solitary horn on Paul Bunyan's ox, opposite to which stands poised that conception of statecraft which now so imperially rules. With the two horns or poles "as far apart as Texas is wide". The true and integral Catholic sharing a clear-sighted perspective of un-daunting realism, laboriously pursuing the eternal good of that vast and beloved bulk of mankind which remains, after Confession of Augsburg—and later Enlightenment Era—"purifying" processes are complete. "We the people" indeed being far apart from these later "not like the rest of men" "chosen ones" who launched this odd breed of progress, this starkly-exclusionary and Godless American Dream.

Within this paradigm of radical exclusion—of "the rest of men" and of their immortal wellbeing—can alone be grasped this ironic phenomenon of American elections, where the private moral behavior of politicians is held up as decisive among standards invoked. In contests where the morbid universe of Predestination comes into special play, and one would think the goal were canonization, or elevation to some churchly board of elders, rather than accession to what has become the most cynically-corrupt office in the world. Here in this standard U.S. understanding of political life being the polar-contradiction of the ages, as according to our very Constitution, and a-fortiori according to more recent and even-more-radical notions of the separation of church and state, the moral character of politicians should seem to matter none or very little at all. And yet we have this fantastic spectacle every four years, of bombast and sanctimony. But, alas, it is understood quite well when we realize that in this super-sanitary idea-of-things goodness is not for everyone, but rather for those alone blessed with "progress" and "the American Dream". Projecting the doughty image of Godly, tradition-minded people of Afghanistan and Pakistan—the latter lovely name meaning "land of the pure"—being blown to smithereens. The specter of our bounden duty to "compel" the rest of mankind "to enter" such a deluded and unstable fold, by way of drone-bombs, media-and-NGO-assisted overthrows, or armed occupations of the standard kind.

What all this represents so startlingly is a rampant reinvigoration of Old Testament religion—of a stage of salvation-history beyond which grace has gone infinitely far—of the erection of a moral universe in which goodness is conceived as "trickling down" to a chosen few—something which the Good God of the Old Testament Himself would never have allowed. A view come back with a vengeance since biblical phylactery-fondling times: a return mediated in particular by the ascendancy of Rothschild-like global finance to the role of sole agent in the organized affairs of men. A proto-heretical "not like the rest of men" worldview to which Catholics—since halcyon days of Beguines, Fratacelli and Jansenists—have been reintroduced balefully now and again. A view stuck on the horns of another dilemma, unable to decide whether God really forgives, on the one hand, or whether He ever really gets much offended at all, in the first place. That idea of goodness and the moral law which predestination-oriented systems must always ply: as forgiveness cannot even be considered among those who are already "saved". This while the genuine doctrine of Catholic forgiveness requires a whole stable universe of many things, a vivid conviction of right and wrong, of people who can save or lose their souls, a vigorously-pursued desire that goodness prevail, a grasp-of-universals most under attack since the Renaissance/Enlightenment era. That interlude during whose three centuries so many (largely Judaized or Gnostic) Protestant creeds were born, and close-cousin heterodox Catholic ones prepared. With stark simplifications involved in synagogue-brokered religious, economic and political ideologies rendering modern Western man decidedly at a disadvantage philosophically—if not theologically—when compared to Asians and Africans. Oblivious as he increasingly is to those things branded on the human heart of any tribe or tongue, managing to dodge them all in the most skillful way, playing merrily though he might with communications gadgets, all the while his vocabulary itself grows rapidly smaller by the day. While these "the least of my brethren", these "rest of men" can afford no fanciful ideologies or pastimes behind which to hide, being regarded as deserving more of drone bombs than of Gospel love.

At issue in elections here is the ever-recurring Yankee question as to whether there is still a life out there for you once you have sinned: although in the next breath it is conceded that you don't really need to be good. Ah, here being the inner pith of this predestination, that it contains an escape-hatch from all pain, from any real labors of a virtuous life. No, all you really need do is be "saved", "predestined", or Jewish: with social status ill-admittedly standing good for any of the three. So that as all this bears upon the politician: the main thing is to keep it all swept under the carpet, to go on escapades only with those whose word no one will believe. Or perhaps yet-more-commonly: to have arrived at that stage of moral corruption when lust means relatively little anymore, power-hunger pushing all other concerns brutally aside, boney-fingered greed making its conventional debut in full form, not long before the grave. Thus then the never-ending merry-go-round of U.S. politics, with all its poses and postures, its self-righteous pronouncements, and the Bushes and Obamas, Johnsons and Nixons we end up with, after all the breathless election-time hype and hauteur dies away for another four years.

Quite the contrary, Catholic statehood assumes the forgiveness of sins: aware as it is that some of our greatest saints were notorious sinners before their conversion, after which they went on to found religious orders, to meet their death on missionary fields, to lead nations onward to summits of safety, prosperity and rectitude never before attained. Saints some of whom left behind them bodies miraculously incorrupt for centuries, as if they had only just gone to sleep, as God's own testimony of the moral purity they had achieved. While of course modern Western "democratic" versions of sanctity are too often found to have been mere matters of flawless choreography, of "catching just that right pose", while deftly sweeping "deeper things of the spirit" under the carpet, after which unrestricted pomp and power are gained. This after the manner of some new Moses laying down the law to lesser beings.

Indeed, in the genuine Catholic view, and that of many-another sober-minded folk besides, a prior life of sin, once repented-of sincerely, with tears, with "sighs that would split the very rocks", can be seen as having been a veritable school of hard knocks, a biblical "acquaintance with infirmity", permitting a critically-necessary understanding of the crosses, pitfalls and frustrations which constituents must ceaselessly encounter. For we true believers know so well that we generally go to Heaven together, or may easily not go there at all. As that is the nature of the human family, "one man in Adam", and a-fortiori in Christ. While the good politician resembles in this vicarious condition Christ Himself, He however having learned of our human fragility "in all things but sin". No, Catholics don't expect a politician to be sinless, but only to be sincere, to be "heartily sorry", in the words of the Act of Contrition, for all past wrongs, indeed to wish to make amends. And to wish to make of the state a garden of virtue, indeed, a "land of the pure", in whose fertile soil souls of the young may thrive.

As suggested above, this is the sort of canny goodness and wisdom in which the most remote tribal leader in Afghanistan is likely-enough well-versed, part of the interior stock-in-trade of the Chinese factory-manager who must try to meet miserly supplier-price-schedules of the Western corporate world, still stay in business, and yet pay his workers as much as possible. Even if it is a shamefully, pitifully inadequate wage, amid working conditions that would have been considered criminal amid tubercular smokestacks and limb-amputating conveyer-belts of early Industrial-Revolution days. And then, on top of that, have to somehow look these care-worn workers in the eye each day (Harney, Alexandra, The China Price: the True Cost of Chinese Competitive Advantage. London: The Penguin Press, 2008.) Whereas it takes an ever-pompous American political vetting-scheme to get bogged down in bouts of theatrical righteousness utterly foreign to these seasoned realists from around the globe, of every clime. To speak in flint-faced accents of war of those indigenous peoples whose moral universe cannot afford a lot of clever fallacies, when stark truth scarcely gives them an inch on which to stand. And who are considered eternally lost on that account. Or toward a Chinese leadership that we ourselves put in power—after the manner of most of our "enemies" of a century and more—all in the name of that towering deity, "Free Trade". Or rattle sabers against a North Korea we bombed into the stone age sixty years ago, in a carefully-contrived war that might easily have been avoided, just like that WWII that had ended barely months before. People on the other side of the globe who can't afford all these verbal luxuries—which is so much a part of all this "being saved", or "living the dream"—anymore than Catholicism can afford to "go back to the womb", as it were, to become another pompous form of Old Testament Jewish elitism. Abandoning "the rest of men" to a miserable moral and material fate. Even if this "dream", this elitism, is once again all the new rage. That abomination which Christ—the "man for all seasons", the universal Man among men, most pointedly rejected out of hand.

February 26, 2012: Vladimir Putin under attack; hundreds of thousands at rallies, according to Western press, were either "required to be there" or "didn't really seem to know why they had come".

All these articles feature ceaselessly-plied perceptions of Russians as being sort of bumfuzzled, "bohunks" stumbling along stupidly, without any real purpose: no doubt the result of having been deprived of all the marvels of "wonderfully democratic" crime-ridden American life. All this Pavlov's-dog event-interpretation by the ever-shoulder-to-shoulder Western press deserves a place alongside notorious activities of Western corporate-sponsored NGOs—of whom our media is indeed the all-necessary polemical right arm—you know, the fabulously-funded outfits, called "Freedom Watch", or "Liberty Lobby", or "Paul Revere run amuck", no doubt sporting the inevitable graphic of the three American rebels with the fife and drum, knees pumping excitedly, urging each other on into sedition, lurching down some cobblestoned New England street. Sources of rabid Western activism, these factotums are considered in an article just below this one, "non-governmental organizations" which the guy who came before Karzai saw were making Afghanistan into a mere politically-fragmentary U.S. khanate, a national fate which he stoutly refused to abide—(other nations do have patriots of their own, Hillary)—a true hero who threw some hundreds of these NGOs out as diplomatic personas non gratas. As might be expected, he got canned—right from out of his own government—by the Bush Administration, for having such "undemocratic" sentiments.

A little lesson in U.S. foreign policy 101: democracy in post-Kennedy times is all about excited mobs debouching out onto streets, as through a burst dam, shooting rifles in the air, mostly young men, many with the decided look of vagrancy on contorted faces, whose first few dozens, many of them racially-mixed, impossible-to-identify Jews, who've spontaneously decided they've "had enough", come right out of the bowels of the same NGOs that always sport the fife and drum somewhere on their logo. It's a kind of "gimme the old one, two, three", of the old boxing movies, as first they defame some Putin with lies and weirdly-contorted half-truths, then they contrive to get a large enough crowd on the ground—through falsifying the size of the one that first came out the cellar-door of the NGO, through deceptive camera-panning techniques noted in article below. Then the youthful curiosity-seekers get involved (isn't it "all the twitter rage" to get tangled up with these sorts of demonstrations?"), preparing the coup fatal: that toward which all these seemingly disorderly but actually well planned and well regimented previous stages have been orchestrated all along. Namely the all-necessary "firing on the crowds" by black ops Mossad, CIA (which has a murderous "black" wing cheek-to-jowl with more conscientious elements) or Blackwater "special ops teams". Oh born-again glory! That's why the U.S. military can become smaller and smaller, even as it spends more and more money, since it uses foreign national spectators—lured into the blind by a few vagrants and traitors—as a kind of stampeded herd. Then, of course, as in the cases of a half-dozen "democratically toppled" heads-of-state of the past two years, the rest is "like taking candy from a baby".

The only thing required is that you believe in "progress" more than you do in God, and you are all set up for such a deception. While if you are actively involved in such a Judas-game, all you have to do is have no character, no honor, no integrity, no virtue. Sodomites do especially well at this sort of thing, which is why the Mossad is absolutely full of them, and no doubt also the black-ops wing of the CIA.

An interesting detail: Vladimir Putin's birthday is October 7, which is the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, which was the title under which Mary appeared at Fatima: in turn the very spot where in 1917, the year of the Bolshevik Revolution, Russia's prominent place in a subsequent Catholic renaissance was predicted, amid riveting celestial prodigies. Indeed, Putin's patron saint, St. Vladimir, under whom Russ or Russia embraced Christianity sometime in the twelfth century, undoubtedly did so while Eastern Rite Christianity was still under the Roman fold, decades before nearby Constantinople's break with Rome. With Russia following suit no doubt more because of geographic proximity than out of any real desire to rebel. While both now and back then Heaven always sees beyond evil and tragedy to brighter outcomes ahead, to "bring good out of evil", preparing out of the political and economic no-man's-land of today that social and political reign of Our Lord Jesus Christ which is to come just before the Second Coming itself, a Catholic resurgence now forthcoming so soon. While our own interpretation of these earthshaking present-and-coming events, and of Russia's and Vladimir Putin's place in them, is discussed here and there on this site.

February 23, 2012: Nobody makes heads or tails out of today's wars—let alone civil wars—until ten years after they're over, according to a commonly-conceded commonplace—except of course for our all-knowing, catastrophe-mongering U.S. media and State Department. These towering figures who however reserve the right to be found dead wrong a mere month after the fact, Blitzer-hand-wringing and all: but only after U.S. bombs are unloaded, allies are mobilized, or boots are on the ground.

But until then its all white-around-the-mouth war-hysteria, and we will be "turning our backs on humanity" if we don't intervene. But these cloak-and-dagger conflicts provide ideal and unlimited opportunities for irregular troops of all kinds to bring contested issues to uncannily-speedy culminations, starting with "demonstrations" which readily balloon from initial tiny beginnings of some rag-tag excessively-loud group—probably debouching out the cellar or back door of some U.S. corporate-NGO office—obligingly made to appear much larger than they are. With CNN typically panning the cameras unwontedly low, somewhere around waistline level, so as not to see over the heads of these agitators, where pitifully few layers of rabidly-shouting or chanting demonstrators would otherwise be shamefacedly revealed. But all you need is this initial IPO, and then it all takes off like a rocket, and Western or Israeli black-ops killers can shoot at the masses from upper-story windows, making hosts of "martyrs" in a trice: like our own CIA did in Mexico in the 70s, and no doubt a host of other places as well. All these manufactured revolutions having been brought down to a yawningly-familiar exact science: with parallels in an in-house 9/11 or the "tsunamis" that took a half-million lives in Indonesia and Japan, resulting from an a-bomb on the sea-floor. As a host of bizarre circumstances in these and similar cases so readily reveal. (No doubt with the doughty rejoinder of Pentagon apparatchiks, "well, we've got to use them somewhere"). After ten good years of observation one becomes well acquainted with such tricks, with all the street-level theatrics preparing "a whole new kind of combat" which psycho-tactically combines motivation, justification, and execution all-in-one. While serving thrifty budget-breaking, New World Order producing purposes of providing the bottomless hole down which the U.S. defense budget is poured. One which grows by leaps and bounds, even though the number of our men in uniform grows smaller each year.

Along this twisted route does it become "perfectly clear", Nixon-style, in today's news, that "Bashar Al-Assad is a war criminal": carrier of that curious disease said to quickly infect all Arab heads-of-state shortly after they fall out of favor with this new Queen Bess. That vaunted guardian of rectitude across the seven seas whose victims far outnumber those of her namesake of also breathlessly-eulogized sixteenth-century lore.

Then its "the long, hard road to democracy", made that much longer and harder by a local infrastructure bombed into the stone age by the doughty Western coalition. That band of Jews and Freemasons who for forty years now have had a string of antipopes riding on their coattails, painfully careful not to offend anyone, and without whose nonplussed, non-committal, "love, love" attitude none of this could have been done.

Thus does the fate of Syria careen into just another fait accompli: another well-marketed slaughterhouse over which even the most doughty of patriots must by now have grown green around the gills. Indeed, somehow I don't think that many of you are rah, rahing that much anymore, and it is indeed increasingly rare anymore to find some absolute fool, after the O'Reilly, Blitzer or Hannity sort, such as abounded just after the invasion of Iraq, out here on Main Street: some madman who enthuses about U.S. "make the world safe" heroisms. Such sentiments having become more like taking the side of Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, while harshly condemning Bob Cratchett and Tiny Tim. Or like siding with the maniacs in the French Revolution—no doubt they would have shot rifles in the air, too, if they had any—who led the French clergy and nobility to the guillotine.

Beware, world leaders, no matter how well ensconced you might seem to be among the friends of this new Queen Bess, or Robespierre: up there on that mass-acclaimed podium, which so quickly turns into a makeshift gallows, is the most dangerous place in the world to be.