July 26, 2006: At war with mankind: Zionism and the new Bluebeard USA.
In case there are any out there who would accuse me of disloyalty, let them know that this website represents the very best kind of patriotism. It is an intrepid love-of-country which will not accept the provisional government of the coup de etat of gangsters and crackpots which is Bush America. That which isn’t by a long shot the USA most of us grew up with and love, but rather an imposter. What we see now increasingly since the Kennedy assassinations is the old rancorous USA of Puritanical intolerance—which was in some ways so happily relinquished during the early-to-mid twentieth century—that of the slave-master’s bull-whip, of the wholesale segregation into desirable and undesirable. A regression, prepared by a whole generation of media and educational brainwash since the demise of the Kennedy brothers, one which crosses all political lines, producing a dominant group of people, not however the majority, which aborts its own offspring and uses the unfortunate or disadvantaged of every kind as guinea pigs for a new and much-vaunted “research”. A deadly spirit which had lain dormant while better things for-a-change prevailed, ready to spring back to life at the signal of the old morbid and backward Southern racist and other secret society crowd. A scurvy crew who make perfect ring-eared recruits for the Bush Skull and Bones pirate-corsair.
This usurping crowd of bandana’d privateers has that approach which whenever possible deals with humanity at the other end of a cruise missile, a spirit of inexorable aggression which picks out an “enemy” a decade or more ahead-of-time and then meticulously slanders, provokes and entraps him. (10/08: as happening just now in a cross-border attack of “brave” U.S. Special Forces against a sleepy Syrian village). Using a bought-and-sold, equally patch-eyed media to hurry him onward to “walk the plank”. That tactic which defines the portfolio of this mocking and belligerent pirate-emissary, Secretary Rice. This past day in Rome in her cynical and obnoxious manner openly smirking at the words of the speaker at her elbow, dismissing him as a fool when he was finished, to issue blustering Barbary-Coast ultimatums to an entire globe. Begging the question of a ceasefire, holding up as an example for all to follow the Israel/American aggressor of all times.
Yet in the last analysis, this Israeli/American war against mankind is “a horse that will not run”, in a derby which is not judged by tyrants or madmen, but by God.
July 26, 2006: “One gun, one authority” is not possible in a world in which Israel through its global interface of “helpers” and secret agents gravely inhibits the sovereignty of all national governments, requiring patriots in various ways and to various degrees to go underground.
In fact I believe that a substantial, candid-and-above-board decentralization of the military is a prudent policy at any time and in any place, in order to prevent today’s outrageous configuration from ever recurring in the future: as I discuss extensively in Chapter Five of My Integral Catholicism. It was indeed this very localism-in-the-military which prevented High Medieval conflicts from taking on the Armageddon-like proportions of modern (“enlightened times”) wars. Medieval noblemen, when that system was in full and marvelously loose-knit operation, regularly refrained from sending their retainers, archers and foot-soldiers into conflicts which they felt were not in their own good interest, or were morally unconscionable. By no means did all the knights and nobles show up for muster in every conflict, and it was only with the rise of tyrants like Phillip the Fair, John Lackland and a long string of absolutism-hearkening late-thirteenth-century English monarchs—with the heavy backing of the era’s already-powerful international financiers—that the military of Western nations began to become profoundly centralized, absolutely mandatory, ultimately “professional” or “draft”. And thus readily controllable and manipulable by the same financially-driven and unseen forces from on high: and neatly and tidily removed from the ambit of personal authority, of person individual conscience. Whereas the previous system had had many authorities with armed capabilities, and had for centuries proven the conflict-discouraging quality of that loose-knit modus operandi. That which was not at all based on money, but rather on the moral and material power of the people. While under the same general dynamisms the humbler and more place-specific, the closer-to-the-people a fighting force is—the more directly answerable to them—the less likely it is to glory in the blood and gore of war. Unlike these mouthy Israelis, who are so good at covering themselves in glory and American blood, in the poorly-disguised shielding operation of American regional wars, and so poor at fighting their own. As reports from the front in Lebanon now show us plainly once again: with an on-the-ground commander today totally incoherent, in a state of shock, over the tenacity, toughness and daring of the Hezbollah counter-blow.
As stated in an entry below, it is not overbearing and disproportional might which constitutes true human strength, but rather a mutual cooperation within the universal fragility of our race. And this most-central of all organizational principles directly supports the contention of this little article: that the table of organization of the military should be built from the bottom up, not from the top down. From out of the womb of the common people, who have no interest in proving things, but only in maintaining their homes, jobs, faith, fields and families. Thus for instance it isn’t the villagers and hamlet-dwellers of “the Krjina” in Croatia, which recently once again saw irredentist overreaches by the Serbs, who bring about these conflicts. Local peoples who in ordinary times live in peace and contentment with one another: their worst artillery exchange being an occasional barrage of basically-harmless counter-confessional humor. No, it is the international troublemakers who cause these little and big Balkan Wars of a century, somewhat similarly to powder-keg incidents in demographically-Russian areas of Georgia, Moldova, the Ukraine, and so on. Again, as extensively analyzed in my cited book, now being revised, in light of recent events, for a second 2007 edition.
July 25, 2006: Krak des Chevalliers.
Having stormed the Church both during the Council and in the coerced-elections of recent anti-popes, and overwhelmed the native governments of most lands, all the nihilists and apostates have to do now is to wait. While the Catholic Way is gradually forgotten, and the earthly city, Salina, Spokane or Beirut, is destroyed as a living thing. So that it is we who must be intrepid, valiant, leaving not a moment longer for these invaders to peddle their wares, whether here or abroad, or from the ramparts of Rome. As they quietly-but-systematically repudiate civilized moral training, culture, formation-of-the-young. Robbing them of their manly exuberance, leaving these institutions as a limp vestige of their former selves. Theirs being a new gospel full of human respect which speaks in airy, quibbling, quasi-idealistic tones: whether from the podia of the UN or the pulpit of the church down the block. Not really making a candid and definitive break with our traditions: only letting them die of a kind of age-attrition, since today’s young, through no fault of their own, have little idea of such things themselves.
Foolish man, who thinks he has thus defeated Faith, humanity, the rules of war: who speaks of a rationality which would drive out devotion, and in the next breath, furtively, panders after the vilest and most unnatural of passions. No sooner you intone your ode to reason than you seek something far beyond its timid parameters: in passion, in the occult. In those Masonic “temples of reason”, to which recent “pontiffs” have belonged, motivated by weird and exotic rites. Lodges which seek, at higher levels of initiation, to find some mysticism of lust. Or some strange abnegation like the Order of Skull and Bones, in that prostration of ones personality which is the morbid modern version of humility. Leaving in its wake the craven, hideous grin, the glowing eyes, of a Bush, a Blair, a Clinton, a Benedict XVI. To this has your impious rationality brought you.
The modern Jewish ideology—that fountainhead of false liberty since the Enlightenment—it is the very nesting-place of this passion-mysticism. Looking as it does upon the Catholic inner life as being an abandonment of practical human concerns, a pathological exultation, an illusion of grandeur. Modern psychology with all its ugly nominatives being the Jewish substitute for Catholic Faith: a parallel system whose morbid terminology predictably laces a subverted New Church moral and mystical theology. Which is to pour acid, not balm, into the open wound of the soul. A whole vast semi-occult thought-universe which calls fanatical any hearkening to a Heavenly world, which rather tries to make a mysticism out of the sordid excesses of this life. A brief career which is only a passage to something else. So that all Catholicism since the Council has basically been an abject bow to this Jewish belittling of mankind, and especially of the Catholic Way.
Catholic mysticism is indeed a self-giving: but one which, once its processes are complete, and in total contrast to that of the Order of Skull and Bones, leaves you not in sadistic chains but rather at liberty to soar in Heavenly free-flight, with the “birds of the air”. A burnt offering whose pain purifies, rarifies, distills to an essence which is pure love, which “casts out all fear”. Here is a radically solitary experience, yet one which ironically finds its venue in the teeming Household of the Faith. Here, in the wedding of the soul to God, is the source of all poetry, song, romance: apart from some trace of which matrimony, this legitimacy, all is tedious, foul and impure. It is the Catholicism of Spain and France, of the mountains of Croatia. It is the gentle Catholicism of Guantana Mujera, of the soft dialects of Cuba. It is a mysticism which gathers up the highest things in man, drawing the rest behind in peace. It is the soft whispering breeze at the mouth of the prophet’s cave. It is the spotless purity in the souls of the young. It is Paradise.
It is an army of love that is formed in the shade of this gently-moving mystic palm tree of the poetry of St. John of the Cross, whose meter would for centuries thereafter marvelously invade the songs of Spain. And give cadence to the footsteps of Jesuits and Franciscans, “running in the way of the Commandments”, preaching the Faith in new lands, treading under foot the foul mysticism of wrong. And in the ranks of this Heavenly Army we will surmount once again the ramparts of the Church, and of the pseudo-state, and plant there the unfurled, rampant liveries of True Faith. That fountainhead of Civilization which alone can reestablish true sanity, order and peace.
July 22, 2006: Perpetual bad-faith negotiations of Israel/USA exonerate Hezbollah from all wrong.
I suppose it’s a bit like beating a dead horse, but it’s the kind of horse that might easily gain companions in coming days and weeks, burgeoning into the four horses of the Apocalypse. Israel and the USA—who are driven by essentially the same peremptory, pre-emptive, superiorist mentality—have never bargained or negotiated in good faith with any of the native peoples of the Middle East. So that you cannot simply dismiss all the Anglo/Israeli double-crosses and betrayals—and the hundreds of thousands of displaced and often maimed or murdered Palestinians of decades, and their annihilated villages and stolen homes—because of something Hamas or Hezbollah did yesterday: and call the latter “unprovoked”. After all, you are dealing here with a sovereign combatant, not a schoolboy, come to the bar of world opinion only to receive the latest U.S./Israeli scolding on good behavior. Hence when you have thousands of people unjustly imprisoned for well over twenty years—often-as-not for no real reason at all, or equally-often for having simply attempted to defended their own patriotic interests—then there comes a point that you take up arms to get these comrades back. In a theater of a world-recognized, UN-approved war-of-reclamation, a localized Lebanese part of which is said to have come to an end those many years ago. Especially when you have a good idea of the heinous atrocities being inflicted upon them, perhaps daily, under the good graces of Israeli torture-fiends. Operating under a Tel Aviv which likewise and against all conventions of nations continues to occupy a strategically-significant part of Lebanon, in addition to these latest aggressive incursions. And which carries on endless violations of Lebanese air space, regular artillery shellings and other individual breeches of international accords. Crimes which by comparison do indeed make Hezbollah look like a troupe of choir boys.
Yet the Bush Administration and Congress diplomatically and militarily guarantee this same Israel—the U.S. for decades providing the lone dissenting voice in Security Council and General Assembly condemnations of Israeli atrocities—an Israel which true to form will not let in medical and other humanitarian supplies to a Lebanon battered by an air force and ordnance made in and donated by the USA. Zionists who through their cryptic international power-broker position took by force in the first place the land they now dwell upon, and recently twisted arms at the UN to broker resolution 1559, as only Jews know how to do, in a maneuver which hardly represents international opinion. Our Congress—a key component of this whole global Israeli power-brokerage system—being in incredible proportions either open or secret (in Spanish, “Marrano”) Jewish by faith or nationality (some say as high as 70% of that body). As in the recent cases of “Kerry”, whose belatedly-revealed real name is a multi-syllable Slovakian-Jewish, or for that matter Madeline Albright and other high-profile government or military figures who quite lately also, under pressure of investigation by third parties, “discovered” their Jewish parentage. This complete with congenital-theatrical expressions of astonished surprise. Jewish-Americans elected or appointed in a “free” and “democratic” system in which big money can really never lose. Comrades-in-arms together with Israel attacking a largely-Christian Lebanon—with we common citizens standing by powerless to intervene—shredding to shards a recently-completed state-of-the-art Lebanese infrastructure which provided things like water, sewer, transport, electrical power and much more besides. An Israel whose every despicable deed the USA in effect justifies with much voluble fanfare about superior Israeli institutions, modes said to “carry the torch of liberty in the Middle East”, albeit with the odd instruments of encirclement, annihilation, rape, collective-punishment and permanent-imprisonment. All this supposedly under the justification of a Holocaust which is said in so many words to give Israel carte blanch to destroy whom it will: a kind of destroying angel of mankind. A stoutly-claimed and all-but-clearly-annunciated “right” which must raise eyebrows on any intelligent forehead. A Holocaust Epic which forever takes the same half-dozen pictures of emaciated persons at Nazi camps—who could be of any nationality, especially in that shriveled and darkened convergence-of-features which comes of starvation—and by a shrewd combination of captions and images claims them to all be Jews. Albeit a tiny fraction of a six million which would have required all Poland to be covered with ovens, else why no more than the mass graves of a few thousand here and there?
But this kind of blind faith, unlike that of ever-reasonable Christianity, is indulgently allowed to contradict both reason and evidence, being of an unparallel brave and exalted kind. Nazism having rained terror on the Jewish ghetto-of-the-devout but seldom violated the precincts of the Zionist rich, living in Germany in officially-guarded immunity. While in an uncannily-similar way we the “silent partner” in Israel’s aggressions loudly justify our biases with frequent references to a 9/11 which however, and just like every other major incident which has pitched us into war, has been carefully kept under wraps as to full public disclosure of fact. For we are in fact the shield and enforcer of a globally-directive secretive will: a craven service-to-which the USA will never give up until it is legitimately reconstituted. Especially now after the all-encompassing bloody coup that took place with the Kennedy assassinations, and with that of leaders like Martin Luther King and Malcolm X at roughly the same time. A gallingly-anti-democratic secretiveness always ultimately under the excuse of national security: a vicious circular logic, a mummery, this 9/11 hysteria, which amounts to an act of absolute faith in George W. Bush and Company: the ballot-box-stuffing paragons of the ages. A blind adherence far beyond anything asked of us, say, by (real) Catholicism.
Will we ever “stand up on our hind legs” and put an end to this international collective moral-pariah, this Jewish root originator of modern racism? This basically-Zionist alliance of Aryan Race fanatics like the Skull and Bones, the Brotherhood of Death, and the State of Israel? The latter a place where the globally-outlawed word “nigger” still thrives; whose gatherings of American-cousin lobbyists and legislators are mostly blond and/or light-complected? A machine for the destruction of Christian nations like Lebanon, and of those like Saddam Hussein’s Iraq which tolerated and even encouraged Christians in their good and devout way of life. While the most delicate sort of diplomacy is expended upon “friends” like Saudi Arabia and other truly-radical Islamist regimes, who find the open practice of Catholic Faith to be a felony crime, in many cases punishable by death. Our Jewish “leaders” ever clamoring about the heinous judgment-seat of some Pilate: in a Deicide—perpetrated now upon Our Lord’s Mystical Body, the Church—which with the original Crucifixion marks out their sole deliriously-celebrated “day in the sun”.
Now noted “American” and Israelis leaders may have superhuman abilities at doubletalk and circular logic, but these superior institutions don’t change the fact that what passes muster here for diplomacy is nothing but negotiation in bad faith. Much like the U.S. Jewish-Indian-agent-driven dealings with the Indians, in treaties in which it was always taken for granted that the tribes were dead wrong in the first place, and deserved any wrongs that might be inflicted on them, and for which they were perceived as come whimpering to the conference table. This kind of negotiation is nothing but the Hitlerian might makes right. That rationale, really, with which the Indians are still treated, when all is said and done, as in casino-fleecings of the Israeli-sniper-funding Jew, Abramoff, or in reservation grocery stores that still provide sub-standard goods at sky-high prices, as in halcyon days of noted Indian agents of the 19th century. In any setting all such things are bad faith, pure and simple: no matter how exalted one might count ones national, genetic or political pedigree. And in the setting of warfare, bad faith justly calls forth a resumption of hostile actions by the opposing force. Else the patriot ultimately betray the very nation and people he loves. Simply surrendering in fact and in the most abject and craven way: that deep bow which all nations are required ultimately by force of arms to accord to a reputedly messianic and superior Israel and USA.
July 24, 2006: The survival of Faith among the Muslims is the survival of Faith among ourselves.
I often use the capital F on the word Faith when describing the Faith of non-Catholics because to the degree it is sincere (or as theologians would say “invincibly ignorant”) and directed to “one God Who is the rewarder of the good and the Punisher of the wicked” it does indeed result in an indirect incorporation of the soul into the Mystical Body of Christ. The condition of true faith or unbelief—that which determines inner rectitude or malice of heart—being impossible for the onlooker to ascertain. So that a true believer of this less-defined kind—an adherent to a God Who looks at the heart, Who plainly justified a Cyrus of Persia or a Nebuchadonosor of Babylon—is thus in a special but very real way a brother in the bonds of Christian charity, whether he knows it or not.
But make no mistake about it, then, Christian: in the survival of the Muslim, of his Faith and his Faith-driven culture, is to be found the survival of your own. And the more you outlaw his good, gentle and devout manner—calling it some pathology of suppressed terrorism, or some such clever and convenient media/Freudian catch-all—the more you chain yourself and your children to a life of practical apostasy and moral abjection. Of lust, substance-abuse, turmoil and the drudgery of the hard labor of the guilty. Just look around you, and take note, at the coarse penury of the masses: you are next. Because he is in reality our own last line of defense: the Muslim being destroyed as the last organized vestige of these good things we all once had, but we indeed “in full measure, running over”. Again, when he is “done with”, “rooted out of his bunkers”, both moral and material, you are next. To be formed into the perfect New Age, New World Order Abu-Ghraib sodomite, a sex-slave under this perfidious boot. Do you think this frenetic, deadline-driven way of life of today is leading to some geeks’ or workers’ paradise? This debt-swamped, air-polluted product of a tawdry, substandard, supply-chain-marketing-driven economy? Guess again.
Muslim society across the southern half of the globe is the last solitary place on earth where employment is still largely determined not by the godless behavioral imperatives of some remote-controlled corporate bureaucracy but rather by the complex workings of the human cooperative. That friendly, largely-informal economy which used to account for many an American livelihood, one in which the corporation or government entity was not the do-all and the end-all but only one of many venues of a robust popular life, a burgeoning prosperity. A “job market” where there is no arbitrary, mandatory “profile” to meet, but rather only the easily-obtained evidence of industry and trustworthiness. A job-market related in many ways to the global Finanzas Populares of a network of economic enablement as well: an interface often vaguely cited for backwardness, but in very fact the cultivar of the best cutting-edge technologies of Asia, as from within their own proper greenhouse milieu (Carstens, Catherine Mansell, Las Finanzas Populares en Mexico. S.A. de C.V.: CEMLA, 1995). While in the West, especially the USA, the securing of even the most miserable job at minimum wage—which in some states hasn’t changed in fifteen years—hinges on a lot of craven primary school show-and-tell, on the completion of a probing battery of situation-questions, as if intent on finding a madman under every bush. That kind of overstep which has the way of becoming a self-fulfilling prophesy. A job market in which friendship and trust have no place, in which self-respect is severely damaged, and once hired, often completely destroyed. For real Faith is the only refuge for human dignity and decency, while faithlessness brings only the craven, the depraved, the decayed. Even as the illegal has no such perverse hurdles to jump, typically getting a job, in his own words—one of the half-dozen English phrases he might know—with “no problem”. This is not to minimize the heinous mistreatment he often indeed receives, yet his children are the real targets of the mass-control machine: he only a limp conduit of same.
I saw the Catholic way of life systematically destroyed in my own little multi-ethnic Catholic community: a process which to an uncanny degree covered the years of my youth. Against which I was one of the few who stood up, and was doomed to be ground to a flour. Out of which I hope someday, like St. Ignatius of Jerusalem, to be made “a pure and holy bread”. Joliet having become a little microcosm of the destruction of Faith nationwide: a little burgh where that weird anti-Faith, modern psychology, would reign in an especially radical and all-enveloping way. Being painstakingly substituted for the practical piety, the humility and other virtues of Joliet’s Catholic past. With a certain eagerly-willing avant-garde, many of them “Catholic” or fallen-away-Catholic, designated as point men in the whirlwind transformation of a town, whose chief task would be to impose a forced practical apostasy on the young, the disadvantaged, the defenseless, the younger members of their own families. A little town that had hitherto and in some ways escaped the limp and compromised American Catholic contagion. Oh, Joliet would make a good test case, we who still had some women running around in babushkas—much like irrationally-hated Muslim headscarves—and little boys and girls with angelic purity on their brows, and a social life in which the kind word, not the sardonic one-up-manship, still reigned supreme. The aptly-named “City of Steeples”, in which the Angelus Bells rang out three times a day from at least a dozen belfries in or close-to downtown, to the devout, at random moments, a genuine foretaste of Heavenly glory. And it is indeed to that old and true Joliet that I hearken on these pages, that Joliet of which the present one is only a shell, the last I saw it. And in which the ability to be gritty, to rationalize like a corporate lawyer, became the new ultimate virtue. It’s much like L.A. or Phoenix now, a city with its very soul eaten out by this gabby, effeminate elite. In which the old nationality customs have no influence on the life around them, bear no realistic relationship to a true personality formation. Being basically only points of humored entertainment, peculiarities of diet. Making the long sleepy slide into full apostasy a fun, celebratory, even a pious-looking affair.
These same monolithic mechanisms and Faith-deadly pseudo-institutions which destroyed the true, multi-centric, naturally power-abuse-limiting American Way of Life, these same forces are now poised to shatter Islam to earthenware shards, to ultimately make the whole of its territories a sea of faithlessness. Its noble virility broken, humiliated. That Islam which is in many ways the last anchor of Faith for us all. Doomed as it stands now to perish under the thoroughgoing, systematic uprooting of all these people hold most dear: now with bombs, later with a suffocating, mind-altering behavioral control and commercialized sexual bombast.
The only thing is that God won’t have it. It will be Faith which will survive and burst forth once again: having as we do the promise of Christ that Catholicism—which Muslims—with whom we share so much—will someday joyfully and willingly accept, entirely of their own accord—will be “preached to the ends of the earth” before the end. This second and more thorough preaching which will involve true and indubitable Faith’s unshakeable establishment, foundation, rooted in the laws, customs and institutions of all peoples (Aquinas on the New Law, Q 106).
July 23, 2006: Bush, Rice, Rumsfeld, Ohmert: the new Gooks.
These people have the support of a lot of well-heeled Republicans and the frightened acceptance of perhaps a third of the U.S. population. The misleading and even Kinsey-like lying polls—always released just in time to propagandize some new Israeli/American aggression, and too often voted in by a peculiar sort of non-representative person—being another matter entirely. This is about the kind of political demographics that the communists had, or the Nazis: the citizenry under both taking a while to “snap out of it”, and to become fully cognizant of the horror of what either tyranny really was. All the while a jerk-knee-loyal German war-time-propaganda media sounded uncannily like some of our own of today: with the CNNs and other “dissenters” being so discrete as to offer more subtle support than real challenge. Prating slogans like “things on the ground can only change if Israel degrades Hezbollah”: the idea of the Jews backing up even one inch from their ongoing history of atrocities—and thus “changing things on the ground”—being unthinkable to the loyal opposition at CNN.
It is in such a scenario that the American common man comes up with tails to pin on donkeys that are entirely appropriate, as when we Vietnam soldiers used to call the Vietnamese communists Gooks. And although these Vietnamese guerrillas had a genuine axe to grind—insurgents with whom most of us combat troops actually felt an ironic kind of fellowship, and who had the excuse of a lack of Christian training to mitigate their sometimes-grizzly methods—yet they were essentially only an opposite on the carefully-contrived East/West global teeter-totter. One whose true axis-of-evil fulcrum was the same for all. But getting back to the word Gook, to me this isn’t so much a name for misguided combatants as for those who lead and brainwash them, for people who take over nations by force, by torture, sodomy-rape, ( or in the old days, in Vietnam, by disembowelment), and so on, on the one hand; and/or by voter intimidation, media-brainwash, electronic ballot tampering and the like, on the other. Using a lot of rhetoric to fill in between military intimidations abroad, and police and “security” coercions at home. A high-level “heads I win, tails you lose” betrayal of modern humanity for the cessation of which—putting the puzzle together at last, only weeks before his death—John Kennedy so nobly gave his life. Actually, as we here at louisdejolietpublishing.com know, these Gooks—who put on impressive melodramas of undying enmity but whose highest leadership are in close sworn unanimity with one another across all frontiers—have something else in common as well. They are all funded by global Jewry. That great hatching-house of pirates and revolutionaries since the anarchist Zealots of Our Blessed Lord’s time. Astute co-conspirators who make big money and gain big power in war. King-makers for whom the war industry is above all big business, and the gathering of massive armaments for the destruction of all nations, to pave the “broad and easy” way to their own global ascendancy. And who in the USA promote a tough-guy image from k through 12 to go hand-in-glove with this self-destructive military aggression.
Thus do Bush, Rice, Rumsfeld et al earn the title Gook on all counts. Our “Madam Secretary” in particular having obviously got her post for other reasons besides ability, a “diplomat” who rams cheaply-bought invective brutally home to the world’s cultured men-of-state. This gutter-level butcher who sees bombs as “birth pangs”, to quote a remark of the past day or two. While the Muslims around the globe—feckless guys and gals much like our own GIs—these Arabs and Persians whose lands and resources these new blitzkrieg artists so compassionately wish to take—these, not mostly blond haired and blue eyed Jews—are our real friends. Who believe in one God, which is more than we can say for Bush, or for Israel-founding pagan Canaanite-Zionists, or for sodomite Mossadists. A George W. who by “born again” is referring not to the Christian rebirth but rather to the rubrics of a morbid and sadistic Skull and Bones rite (see www.cuttingedge.org: which however may have been forced off the net by now).
I may not be able to take up arms against this enemy, as I did against the communists: but I can certainly identify them as such, and call them what they are, in no uncertain words. Else liberty be an entirely empty word, suitable only for fists-in-the-air 1984-style rallies, such as Bush-Republicans so often hold. At which all dissenters of any kind are led away in handcuffs, Gestapo and KGB style.
July 21, 2006: Condoleezza, Israel and the Middle East: empty pride and insolence versus rag-tag strength.
Just when we begin to believe we are achieving things by our own “main strength” we are losing contact with the genuine wellsprings of vigor and agency of our (human) race. That reservoir of mutual support and collective virility which is the opposite of Condi’s idea of pushing oneself forward, of one-up-manship: but that which is very much the Jewish/Capitalist leadership and organizational mentality. Hence the way in which she brutally and with singular boorishness veritably brow-beat the venerable Lavrov, with language that threatens in its insidious way to provoke some eagerly-sought international incident. That blackmailing or protection-racket method which has come to define diplomacy to a small cadre of narrow-minded elites with far more power than they know how to handle. And which our nit-wit news-men and –women imitate down to the letter, with cheaply-bought bravado verbally frying distinguished foreign heads-of-state in oil. This Jewish/American idea of strength, indeed of superiority, being entirely foreign to our race, and that indeed of set purpose. Since the whole idea is that such vaunted overlords are better than the rest of mankind in every category: an unequaled arrogance that has been intensely and assiduously cultivated in this second Israel, the USA, like wheat and cockle alongside healthy, natural native perennials.
But this impudence thing is at its root not a uniting factor but a principle of division. A disease I have seen at work in more places than I care to mention: like a fire among dead timber and dry-rotten undergrowth.
Real strength is actually breakable: and it is no surprise that men of the highest character are crushed in a Pitesti, a Guantanamo or an Abu Ghraib. Thus too Cardinal Stepinac of Croatia, who broke under some such sadistic regimen, coupled with the administration of various drugs, taking blame upon himself for what he did not do. But people are not responsible after the limits of human endurance are reached—even St. Joan of Arc was prevailed upon—both by fear of the fire and attempted rape—to deny “her voices”, which instructed her in saving France—and those who push them there are only showing their own insect-like, sub-human perversity. Hence the weak-but-good—those Pauline ones who “glory in their infirmity”—are often able readily to reassemble themselves after they have been subjected to inhuman brutality, whether of a physical or a psychological character. And I believe the Palestinians and Lebanese, both Christian and Muslim, are of this noble quality. But the stone-hearted, perverse and unyielding are finally destroyed once-for-all, and in an utterly-irreversible way.
July 20, 2006: Surveillance investigation stymied; a dense thicket of both direct and circumstantial evidence proves the complete illegality of the present Administration: or rather of that mob/secret-society Super-Administration which has controlled Washington since the assassination of John Kennedy in 1963.
Just as anticipated in the article directly below this one, on the very day that the hideous fetus-farming bill was vetoed, Bush has “come to collect” for this tactical pitch to the Christian Right, giving the go-ahead for this impudent, hip-booted denial of access of investigators to info about Government surveillance activities. In a clever Skull and Bones psychological-warfare coup against the American people, with Gonzales as usual reading the prepared script. This Attorney General, this chief U.S. law-officer, with the utmost irony, continuing to prove to us on an almost monthly basis that the Administration he represents has no legality before the law, and that any citizen has a moral right, even a duty, to resist it to the extent of their power, as being a mammoth, nation-destroying usurpation. Of course, none of us have any ability to do so in any effective way, because of the very same surveillance usurpations thus being brought to bear and rigidly maintained, and pandered to by an in-many-ways complicit Congress. With even the highest officers in the military having all the power of a boy scout when it comes to mustering resistance against this new and yet-more-formidable Adolph Hitler. For one thing our forces being integrated with those of Israel quietly but with astonishing speed and efficiency: for instance with counter-insurgency and leadership “doctrine” being taught to our special-ops troops and their field-grade commanders, as well as no doubt to conventional-military general-grade officers as well. So that anyone not properly motivated is no doubt washed out expeditiously like some luckless recruit. So little does scrambled eggs on the cap mean anymore, as the old and honest Mme. Commandant at Abu Ghraib might have told you. Why, even back in ’66 I had occasion to hear of an officer candidate, a German Jew somehow trained at one of our OCS schools, who was obsequiously apologized-to by the otherwise tough-as-nails cadre of candidate-drill-sergeants, for being obliged to correct him on some finer point. A foreigner of the right nationality who had just given these senior fellow trainees a dressing down with all the flush-faced tones of the Austrian Corporal. But who was hardly sent hiking, as anyone else would have been. Thus not surprisingly, considering all the above, there is a wealth of both material and indirect evidence—often cited on this page—demonstrating beyond question that this Administration—through a complex Israeli/Mossad and Skull and Bones international interface— engineered 9/11, just as Blair boys were planners-in-chief behind the London Tube explosions. And with the self-same kissy-faced cabal responsible for a host of other highly-publicized acts of violence and sabotage around the globe as well. Some of the worst of the sectarian-warfare-inciting incidents in Iraq being from the same unfailing source, as our own study of war-zone photography of “Islamic extremists” in the midst of such activities amply suggests (see entry in a last hyperlink below). These cold-blooded atrocities aimed at molding world opinion against Muslims, and then taking control of their land, resources and especially their vehicles of moral, cultural and intellectual formation. Since contrary to the chatter on the media the kingpins who use terror and national-humiliation as their weapon-of-choice have little interest in things like oil anymore, except as means toward the control of minds and souls. Using as the invincible multi-purpose tool toward these purposes the “privatized” geo-corporate infrastructure: that factotum of mass-institutional-change which is a channel of everything from blood-money to assassins to torture-interrogators. Noted agent provocateur acts having been the means toward supranational totalitarianism since the “Remember the Maine” mania that allowed a “benevolent” Uncle Sam to neatly and self-righteously take Cuba like an over-ripe Spanish plum.
This kind of diabolical, Jewish/secret-society-controlled global and domestic tyranny—pro-life sops to fools on the Christian Right notwithstanding—can only be resisted by invoking the power of Heaven, and more specifically, of the two Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary. But til then the new Nazis know they can “deal with the Catholics later”, at a more convenient time, when they too will be a mere collective Stalinist “over-ripe plum”. That project to which this website is dedicated. (Note of 02/12: Obama, designated successor to G.W. Bush, is taking care of this right now, in his ramroding of birth-control services down the throats of Catholic institutions. Anyone with any acumen at all must have known that all the “pro-life” would be short-lived). Make no mistake about it: in the deeds of this Administration we have the ultimate effort of agnostic Jewry to totally destroy Christian Faith, using a “born again” quisling as its prime weapon. A “bonesman”, like all these secret-society madmen, who is only another cog in the age-old Jewish-finance-driven world-domination machine: its smoothly-humming gears already beginning to spin by the fourteenth century. While as noted before on this page we can see in all this the reason for the Spanish Inquisition: which despite the persistent propaganda of fanatical Evangelicals was seldom used against Christian heretics, but almost always against Jewish infiltrators into both Church and State. So that finally we can see that it is true Catholicism which has always been the champion of political liberty; whose true priests and people have always been willing manfully to sacrifice themselves for same, rather than just utter buzzwords and catch-phrases. Whether we speak of the sixteenth through eighteenth century Jesuit championing of the property rights of Indians in both North and South America, the long struggle of Croatians to save Western and Central Europe from an at-that-time militant Islamic yoke, or the leadership of Fr. Coughlin and others in the American Catholic clergy in the founding the Farmer Co-op movement in the mid-twentieth-century USA. That which was however finally taken over by the same forces of global finance which it sought to resist.
July 18, 2006: Flushing a profoundly anti-life Bush and (Ted) Kennedy out of the hedges.
Viewers on the purportedly-Catholic station EWTN are counseled not to “prophesy”, but it is necessary to take note that God will strike any nation which performs the heartless farming of fetuses for whatever reason. Indeed, it would be nice to have the kind of Catholicism which fits in neatly with the surrounding pagan world: but this is not the one that God gave us. But to amuse ourselves further: such a cool Catholicism would be a real Judeo-Christianity such as in the first centuries of the Church dutifully reported true believers to the Roman authorities for their non-conforming habit of not burning incense before idols. Had they only complied with that, Rome would have been glad to leave them with their “strange rites”, which would have nicely served to expand an already sizeable Pantheon to even more impressive proportions. This prim and proper Judeo-Catholicism, then, is that which many would counsel, which New Church has been pushing off on us for the past decade and more, one which walks in cadence with the latest marketing jingles fresh out of corporate America. Such a Catholicism—behaving itself, cured of its unruly habits at last—wouldn’t “make any waves”, which always have such a negative effect on all-important sales projections. It would continue—as indeed it does already—to take the ideas of good writers with poor little websites like this one, and prune them here and there of their propensity to “cast fire upon the earth”, to make a novel and attractive addition when “show time” comes around. Opting for a Catholicism that “doesn’t sweat the small stuff” of an all-encompassing morality which roots up the seven capital sins: for which is required a comprehensive cultivar of Catholic custom, atmosphere, penitence. A real community within the larger one—a feeble vestige of which we have seen on one or two occasions around these United States since Vatican II, and in the starkest and most-unlikely of circumstances—not indeed with an “open window” to the harsh winds outside, but rather with a door ajar to those around it who might be intrigued by what goes on inside.
One such an obscure little community we saw and were briefly a part of was in its own way remarkably like that of a certain Catholic bishop and his little flock in a Chinese communist concentration camp: a prelate who used to say Mass and give out Holy Communion in a radically-truncated rite (of course prohibited in ordinary times). Using some left-over morsel of bread and as I remember a little pill-box full of rice wine or something similar, stolen somehow from the table of the camp commandant, in the fabled way of Hogan’s Heroes. An Order of Mass which took about ten seconds, if that, and was offered before a nonchalantly-gathered group of perhaps two or three, in prison grey, in the prison yard under the watchful eye of well-armed guards: who would have instantly noticed anything resembling an earnest conference or discussion. The little flock of our own experience having been a couple of homeless people, whose motley soup kitchen pot luck we once gratefully shared. They being undyingly-faithful adherents to the timeless Faith of our fathers, outcasts like ourselves for daring to actually live their Faith unabashedly, people of the greatest wisdom, charity and circumspection. Confessing their Catholicism to anyone who would listen, displaying it in a kindly word or two, a subtle but irrepressible joy, a whole different ambiance from the airs of dour piety or the middle-class-celebratory chortle down at New Church, or in exclusionary traditionalist preserves. A true Catholic persona alien to the borderline boasting of at least two priests at the noted studio, about their former pot-smoking, cocaine-taking, town-painting biker days. (These bikers are always the classical reformed or “saved” of our times, leaving in their bike-dust we unimpressive, small-stuff-sweating, milk-toast varieties of penitents. Of course after they have finally tired of sowing plentiful “wild oats”.) One of them, still apparently under the permanent cerebral influence of such a life, seems to claim that his former biker confreres, whose company both longingly remember, are “more real” than many who call themselves Catholic. Hence totally failing to realize that it was with such people that all the pretense started, the putting-on of macho airs, the Hollywood photo-finish gang-intimidations that would so soon become standard schoolyard fare. Going a long way toward casting in generational concrete the apostasy of today, and losing for American youth any chance at incomparable joys sane, civil and cultivated, such as their great-grand-parents enjoyed. Oh, yes, but that wasn’t “real”.
Of course we have the say-so of Mother Angelica “backing” all these majesterial-sounding leather-jacket pronouncements and prohibitions against wildcat devotees like myself, who truly feel the Holy Ghost stirring in their souls. Who don’t need some hysterical monistic prayer-group to validate everything said or done by each and all, and to give it the coveted group seal of approval, which will almost do in a pinch for corporate control. This nun transparently being touted as a saint, and rather obviously destined to be “made one” under the whirlwind procedures introduced by John Paul II, and no doubt speeded up even more by Benedict. With her biography now appearing, apparently complete with revelatory accusations of mistreatment while she was growing up, by I know not whom. This woman, be that as it may, who to me has always had remarkably hard eyes for a budding saint. Indeed her in some ways good but politically-correct station—considering the momentous things that are really happening out there, and around which it knows how to deftly skirt—has a distinct flavor of corporate America to it, no matter how hard its anchors and commentators try to shake this studio-room reverberation:: and it would be interesting to see who are its principal contributors. While finally we must alas beware of eagerly-promoted saints, remembering that there was once a Brother Gino thus touted some twenty-five years ago or so, who turned out to be a false stigmatic and a sexual molester of numbers of his many confidants. A slick fellow who had built up an international community around himself, in the moral-no-man’s-land aftermath of Vatican II. That cratered moonscape which has only grown more weird and alienating since his time, and which finds Catholics and other Christians digging about its flinty landscape, looking desperately for a moral leadership with whose genuine traits they have grown perilously unfamiliar.
Why do I go on this way? Because I for one will not quietly tolerate any form of Catholicism that is neutered, made acceptable—not to God as the Roman Canon used to pray—but to the crass, deadline-driven Judeo-pagan world outside. Whether by way of laxity or the rigorisms of a renewed Jansenism: both of which in fact complement and find excuses for one another, and are quite amenable to the aims of that same Skull and Bones world. Catholicism will not be formed by corporate America, nor by world Jewry, into a pious replica of themselves. No, before that happens, God will bring this little New Church playhouse down, just as He has done with countless similar well-marketed forgeries in the past. And what will be the dimensions of what follows? In my opinion a Russia embracing at last full Catholic communion—indeed become the one and only major refuge of true Catholic Faith—will see to that. And believe me, it won’t be some pixy-like, commercial fairyland, or refuge of lay or clerical sodomy, that will be the result. A Russian Catholicism, as I piously anticipate, one which will name us a validly-elected pope, which will have left behind it Orthodoxy’s endemic weaknesses toward bowing to lay authority. That element, more imposed on that religion from without than cherished by it from within, which would seem to lie much at the base, really, of their ultra-paternalistic heresy about the Doxology.
But returning to genetics, cloning and stem-cell butchery: just as in the time of the Tower of Babel, we may be able to do these things but it doesn’t mean that God will permit them. For we humans do indeed have many capabilities that if tapped into, like some forbidden tree, could make us, as the Serpent so slyly intimated in the Garden, “like unto Him”. But just like the miraculous fowl in the desert in the time of Moses, conceded by God in response to the Jewish murmuring, He will strike us even as we stretch out our hand to partake. And also just as then, as before Pharaoh a few years earlier, God always moves someone to predict punishment for abominable deeds, so that cause is properly and graphically associated with effect. Since we humans learn supremely well by way of object lessons, much like juvenile spankings: of which whole societies are given God’s own much-harder version. But which punishments, again, most typically require a warning just before. Thus do I predict the devastation of the Washington D.C. area by tropical storms if the House and Senate so much as continue to consider such heinous legislation. Just as I correctly predicted a terrible punishment for the grizzly demise of Terri Schiavo, one which ensued within little more than a month of that diabolical deed and the appearance of said prediction on this page. This in a consecutive string of violent weather, striking the guilty Florida first, and returning repeatedly to that state: catastrophes which culminated in Hurricanes Katrina and Rita for the broader Southeast. With weird and continuous wildfires to follow immediately thereafter for Floridians and many others as well. Stem-cell Eichmans and killers of the defenseless disabled, beware: God will not be mocked.
But George Bush works as the see-saw counterweight to such cowardly atrocities as fetus-farming, legalized abortion and euthanasia: for one thing supplying countervailing bloodbaths of his own in the whole ugly ensemble of his global aggressive warfare, (and of a planned starvation by way of economic collapse and the use of food-crops as bio-fuels: addition of 10/08). Proponents of both kinds of abomination, playmates who include Bush, Kennedy, Clinton and Kerry, think they are going to play hide and seek with us. But God will flush them all out of the hedges.
July 16, 2006: Reflections on the Sacred Heart of Jesus, that which is lacking in Israeli foreign policy. Just as in Iraq, lies now told over the media misrepresenting the present conflict, as usual to inflame the global public against the Muslim world, won’t matter and may even be readily admitted to, after unjust objectives are gained and cruel aggressions are spent. An examination of why this is so.
The statement was frequently to be heard during and after the anti-council Vatican II that we needn’t any longer be so sentimental as to use the expression Sacred Heart of Jesus. Thus spoke a certain young priest just out of the seminary, whose sermon I heard while I was attending college in Ireland a few years after the noted gathering. Not a few Irishmen of the time were indeed beating their breasts over the supposed national failing of being “too demonstrative”, and so on: foibles said to fly in the face of the brave new religious world of the Conciliar Church. Thus were all of us—Irish or otherwise—informed by the young divine that from now on we need only say “Love of Jesus” in place of the old and venerable term first introduced by the Carthusians in the twelfth century: since love is “all that is involved anyway”. As I remember the cleric even had an explanation for why Our Lord Himself had used the thus-briskly-dismissed gratuity in his apparition to St. Margaret Mary. For according to his logic it seems that the Savior—being only too aware of the cloying emotionality to which Catholics in ages past were so hopelessly prone—chose to condescend to this illiterate propensity, reluctantly couching His Love in lamentably maudlin terms of endearment, of the human heart. This little assay into semantics being only one of many examples of the times of a wholesale giving-way to the prevailing Vatican II winds-of-change. An agenda which amounted to a digging up of the human foundation-stones of Catholic Faith, together with even more futile attempts to grapple with mammoth eternal ones. A monumental exertion which has continued non-stop since those halcyon times.
In the first place, in answer to all this folly, there is plainly much more to the word heart than just plain love. The French word for courage is taken from their word for heart, while conversely in English to “lose heart” is to become discouraged. Furthermore a heart can be good or bad, generous or stingy, glad or oppressed, pure or impure, attached or detached, noble or ignoble. Clearly the heart is a vessel for many things which cannot be reduced to the word love. Indeed the human heart is at the very core of the subject-matter of this website: effective organization, vigorous economic development, and that impetus, those hearty motivations which they require. Causes which gain nothing of any force or significance from the Council’s sterile and flowery words about an abstract, highly-generic, easily subverted or falsified love. The same Council which would see age-old Catholic efforts on behalf of the common man veritably drown in a sea of such emasculating diction: as a brief glance at practically any of the many documents pouring out of the Vatican since then will amply reveal. While any resolute standing up in defense of defenseless peoples like the Lebanese seems decidedly to be a thing of the past.
In reality, we conceive the most complex of responses in this inner vessel, the heart—one both of flesh and blood and of a higher, more spiritual tissue—interior engagements tailor-made to a certain person, place, thing or circumstance—degrees of unity or odium, revulsion or enthusiasm conditioned yet further and in an infinitude of ways by the state of our soul. Thus hardly do we typically rush intrepidly to the defense of the defenseless when we are in the state of mortal sin. But Our Lord’s Heart is sedulous in its pinpointing of particulars, in going out on the celebrated windy ledge after the one personal or national lost sheep, and infinitely-more responsive in all respects as well: conforming itself to each of our needs, taking affectionate note of our origins and surroundings in thus mourning our losses, sharing our joys. An ever-recurrent Judaic/Manichaean rejection of the frailties of human life being the occasion of the revelation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus as that Burning Furnace of Charity into which we are to be safely drawn, our moral failings consumed. Human nature being that humble, sometimes miserable totality which this Divine Heart adopts as His very own, in joys and travails, in exuberance and dereliction, generously sharing our lot in all things but sin. Thus were He here today, ruling His Church, He wouldn’t utter long-winded words, like recent pontiffs, while women and children were being blown to smithereens in a bogus and contradictory “war on terror”, of U.S./Israeli origins, with certain Anglo/Indo connections marching in close stride. Rather would he be issuing excommunications against prominent politicians and interdicts against whole nations which openly or tacitly endorse Bush’s perverted wars: without quibbling about counter-reprisals of whatever scope. Nor about “anachronistically” taking up “medieval prerogatives” once again, when mankind teeters on the brink. A Sacred Heart of Jesus who drove the money-changers out of the Temple, Who would hardly content Himself with denying Communion to John Kerry over an old and long-papally-trifled-with issue of abortion, while allowing the sodomite- and spot-execution-barbarities of Bush and Blair to go almost un-remarked, as Benedict has done. This anti-pope who is decidedly-if-discretely on the side of big-money and statism when compared against any of his validly-elected predecessors like Leo XIII or Pius X. A Sacred Heart Who by contrast is indomitably committed to all those in need not only because of His compassion “unto death on a cross”, but also because in His divine nature both Act and Being reign supreme. So that while He is eternally He Who Is Jesus is also, in ways both human and divine, the deeply-engaged “Man of the hour”. Or even of the barrio, family or neck-of-the-woods. Hardly an effeminate wearer-of-designer shoes, this Son of God is ones closest Neighbor down the street or across the hall. A “man to have around in a pinch”, able to take in familiarly those of every tongue, clime, hue of skin or cant of eye, to call them His own very intimately-regarded kith, kin and countrymen, ready to stand by them in all things as one of theirs. Finally, the Sacred Heart of Jesus, if we let Him, goes far beyond this “what are neighbors for?” hand- and crying-shoulder-lending, rather investing sublimely all the myriad motions of our humanity and giving them a vehemence and a refinement such as grace the courts of Heaven. Hence to consign to some world of devotional obsolescence this Heart is to miss the all-formidable means of both our human advancement and our sanctification, indeed the whole mystery of that condescension which is the Incarnation of the Word of God: the hypostatic union of the human and divine. The Fountain of Youth of traditional and marvelously personal and place-specific Western Civilization, of its exuberance, its unique authentic species of progress. Seeming ever-celebratory in its unselfconscious way, even as it bears its daily cross, even amid “dungeon, fire and sword”. Elements which once marked it out distinctively from others, and made it so young and attractive to all. Traces of which still stubbornly remain, especially in the larger Europe, even with a recent loss of bearings, of espirit, of Faith.
Here then, in this Sacred Heart, is the true and rightful venue for a “personal relationship with Jesus” of which the Evangelicals love to speak, but of which they know so much less than they could. An inner Dwelling which has known loneliness, dereliction, even the dredges of despair. “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily-burdened, and I will give you rest.” While just as often this Guy down the hall enters the door of our own hearts, even “being closed”, and suffuses our own “upper room” with the light of His all-giving, strengthening, magnanimous presence. But can we hope for such a blessing if we ourselves turn our backs on those unfortunates who happen to reside on strategic land in the eastward march of today’s power brokers, and who are destroyed in hyper-aggressive warfare at the least pretext, in stunningly-contradictory “defensive” operations of every kind? “How can you love that God Whom you do not see, if you do not love that neighbor whom you do see?”
No doubt some of the same Evangelicals would call devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus part and parcel of a “mystery religion”, as I gather from recently reading one of their interesting and informative exposes on secret societies. These cabals which as they claim quite rightly are all bound up with rituals and mysteries. But in the process and as suggested they can’t resist the opportunity to take a broad swipe at Catholicism, which of course has these elements too: as if ritual and mystery must always have something to do with satanism, no matter where they are found. As if indeed Satanism were not a perversion or caricature of what is best: in that inversion from which indeed, in the mysterious dynamic of preternatural things, it gains all its stygian power. The symbolisms and rituals of the occult, of the Order of Skull and Bones, and so on, being obviously designed to serve the basest of man’s passions, the most deranged and diabolically-unnatural of drives of which he is capable: rather than to enhance and redeem his mind and soul. Scraping murky bottom with the obsessive signals, fetishes and innuendoes of those sadists and sodomites with whose numbers these treacherous bodies are packed. Or those key conspirators who excel at inventing hyper-convenient 9/11s, 12/7/41s or Havana Bay explosions: this in the most spectacularly-convincing form and at exactly the “right” historical moments, when public opinion has been expertly primed. A radically-confrontational policy which in each case those thus “framed” would hardly have embarked upon, invariably-underdogs who know such a recourse would be suicidal in the extreme. An “enemy” path however made believable to the gullible folks at home by the clever insertion of the idea that Muslims—or at other times variously Catholic Spaniards or Panamanians or the Japanese—are all madmen anyway. A sentiment media-prepared for decades in advance by ever-busy war-profiteering news-print or newsreel Jews. “Leaders” and promoters who have done so much in school, office and policy-world alike to make sadism a prime ingredient in today’s American character: to be aptly exported to other lands at the point of a bayonet. Odious elements which under the puerile skate-boarder George Bush have invaded our military and counter-intelligence doctrine, and highly-secretive reaches of our foreign and domestic policy. The notion of “the sacred” in these supra-national satanic organizations being only the most transparent of ploys, as is soon betrayed by their uniformly putrid fruits. Just as in a parallel sense the genuine idolatry of the Canaanites of which the Old Testament essentially speaks when it uses the term, and with which the same Evangelicals are at great pains to draw parallels to the Catholic cult of images. The latter however being as innocent as the picture of their own family-members which grace their own domicile walls: hardly being the blood-stained tyrants of the underworld of a Baal or a Quetzaquitl.
But the more-essential import of these false comparisons by Evangelicals is to deny that there is any real mystery to Faith, indeed relegating religion to the realms of a kind of transaction. Evangelicals whose oddly-impersonal “personal relationship” with Our Lord is colored with a strong suggestion of a handshake between equals, requiring little unbending for the up-righteous “saved”. A kind of religion which has plenty of time for money-making, good ole boy prejudice, and self-enriching military aggression, bidding us excitedly to march behind a “grand old flag”. This in stark contrast to a real rebirth which claims every fiber of our life and facet of our inner and outer existence, bidding us unite our actions to the beating of the all-merciful Sacred Heart. And imitate his self-sacrificing example. That oblation whose ramifications in the economic and political order are life-giving and constructive, not enslaving and annihilating.
In fact it is above all other places in the Sacred Heart devotion that there is the familiarity, the “personal relationship” of “I know mine and mine know me”. And of those “sheep of my flock (who) hear and recognize my voice”. This consonance, this voice-recognition being intrinsic to True Faith, else it be mere cold deduction. A credence founded on tokens of trust, with little need of empirical evidence as such. Following that essential human and humane rule of the determining of the exterior by the interior and unspeakable. Even the rudimentary True Faith of natural law religion fearfully, gropingly recognizes “one God Who is the rewarder of the good and a punisher of the wicked”, partaking to its capacity in this inner world of heart-felt acknowledgments, ever fraught with mystery, obscurity. Little expecting to find the things of God clearly visible and understandable to the human mind. That primitive Faith which is enough to secure his salvation who blamelessly knows nothing more, from a God Who “reveals these things to little ones”. While it is only today’s essentially-Jewish Secular Messianism—the religion of the modern technocracy, with all its idolatry toward science and engineering—that goes so far in its apostasy as not to even recognize the noted ultimate mysterious reality of punishment and reward. Far beyond a primitive paganism which at least retains this lowly apprehension in some form. Today’s paganism—while always mentoring gourd-rattling rites of old—going well beyond ancient fantasy, perversely ascribing powers over life and death to some earthly nationality, some group. That which under pressure of today’s incessant brainwash and propaganda is easily manipulated by a clique of demagogues. They who from such a stolen throne rain down abominable “chosen people” persecutions on their fellow man.
And then too although God uses human language to convey certain things, as St. John of the Cross tells us these words are hardly adequate to express the whole force and meaning of what is involved. Inspired words pregnant with supernatural quiddities of which they themselves are however but fragile and leaky vessels. Faithful as far as they go, but ultimately inadequate. Indeed as the noted Saint said a tongue of angels is actually required to transact in the goods of Heaven, and even this, after a certain point, must come away empty-handed. That supra-angelic language being ultimately required which however the Sacred Heart of Jesus speaks most easily and fluently, acquainting us with its accents in the depths of our souls, calming the raging seas of hearts and societies. The ineffable communications of this Word, this Son of God being in radical contrast to the garrulous approach of those heretics since Our Lord Himself walked the earth and before, who try to explain away a mystery in some human language which perforce speaks of Heavenly things by way of lengthy elaboration. The tongue or pen being a tool duly proportional only to our limited, rational-rather-than-intuitive, detail-assembling human intelligence: which to borrow a phrase of St. Teresa operates like a noisy windmill compared the vast and silent Reservoir of the Mind of God. The mysteries of Faith rather draw us back into that divine Source from whence they came, like energy back into a spent supernova: this after the initial explosion of creation, of the divine cosmic Revelation, of that Redemption so consonant with its Self-giving Core. “I, if I be lifted up, will draw all things to Myself”. (Note of 02/12: Deleted here are some earlier nebulous statements into whose subtler precincts I am not qualified to venture. My apologies to any who read them, for that foolishness and temerity of six years ago.)
Thus too missing the apostolic boat by a mile, on which is borne majestically the Sacred Heart of Jesus, is the central sole necessity argument of the born agains with regard to Faith. Failing to grasp the pith of what the Apostle is saying with frail human words: mysteries in which only the discerning, the “circumcised of heart”, can penetrate “between bone and marrow”. True, the relegation of deeds to a place secondary in time to Faith is shown by the fact that, as the Sacred Heart of Jesus revealed to Sr. Josepha, we can win back our souls during our last breath at the price of one only act of Faith-inspired love and surrender. Like the worker in the vineyard who came at the 11th hour, yet received a full day’s pay. But the point of Paul’s words on Faith—as can so obviously be seen from the context in which they are written—is most decidedly to repudiate not good works but rather the nascent secular-messianism already contained in the contemporary Jewish take on the Law. That law—taking in both the human and divine—which is the larger topic being discussed by the sacred writer, to which the question of works is actually only a sort of abstract vehicle of exposition. Among a host of other subtleties and abstractions which the Apostle chooses so often to use. St. Paul operating in his own uniquely-rarified theological realm, his special spiritual acumen acknowledge forcefully by St. Peter, and owned-up-to by this first pope for the pitfall it might present to foolish and presumptuous souls. At issue—rather than good works themselves—being the gallingly-insincere approach of chief Jews of Our Blessed Lord’s time—a ploy which would make obedience and morality into a lot of mere mechanical gestures, formalities and rituals. Deeds not of good faith, toward the glory of God, but of self-glorification. Hence Paul is at pains to establish—in lengthy, closely-reasoned, in some ways allegorical passages—that without that free gift of God which is Faith nothing we do is of any merit: indeed that we can glory in “nothing save our infirmity”, or alternately, “in the Cross of Jesus”. Which is however hardly to utter the perverse non-sequitur that we therefore need do nothing at all: a rather inadequate bearing of the cross, a paltry “spelling off” of this good Neighbor. Rather indeed—to put it all in plain gold-standard monetary terms—is the gold that “backs” this currency of good works from God Himself: without which it “isn’t worth the paper its printed on”. The task of the good Savior being to lead our race in this paradoxically-dolorous victory—“come, take up thy cross, and follow me”—not to accomplish it for us in fine detail, leaving us only neat and essentially-costless salvation formulas to apply. As if we would be so low as to beg such a “free ride” from the Apostles albeit-generous words. St. Paul is saying many more things than one here, proclaiming the ineffable primacy of the interior in all matters, including law and religion, and thereby contributing mightily to the whole already-developing Christian doctrine of political liberty. That which in its most-distilled essence plumbs the very depths of the soul, enabling us to “walk like a man” because of the worth of what we are by grace, and by a rational nature thus spiritually endowed. Rather than being chained to some doughty accomplishment, some rite-of-passage, the completion of some middle class task before we can claim that dignity. Works, then, are entirely subsequent in time to Faith, but by our very nature also entirely necessary to us: who resemble God most by being all about Act, about realization and objectification, whether internal or external. And without which we can no wise be saved. While otherwise we become inverted, sick, self-destructive, at last coming to actually relishing the bravado, the macho point-proving of rape, murder, war. The need for good deeds, and the moral training they encompass, being something the simplest primitive grasps intuitively, but over which the convinced or “convicted” born-again“ strains (as) over a gnat”. (Note of 02/12: apologies again, this time for having used the word “pagan” instead of “primitive” in the previous sentence in the original article.) Then too by the same token neither are good works a more or less optional accompaniment to Faith, neatly attesting to its authenticity: that final slick escape route of born-agains all from embracing Catholic doctrine when all else fails. Spurning that Mother Church which calls out to them sweetly, indeed in her special way like the biblical soft breeze at the mouth of the cave, but which they cannot afford to hear, for the earthly sacrifices that would be required.
”He reveals these things, these mysteries, to little ones”, to the tender-hearted by way of humbly-borne suffering. While the Jews are the very embodiment of blindness in their refusal to see not only a spiritual or allegorical meaning to Scripture but to anything. This life, in fact, “all nine yards of it”, being both end and means to them, the blunt do-all and the end-all. With even that proportion of non-Zionists who believe in something beyond the Jewish People themselves being caught up in a system of earthly rewards and vindications, to the typical gross neglect of things spiritual, mysterious, divine.
But among Catholic traditionalists—who interestingly enough had a heretical namesake in the eighteenth century, a certain near-identical school of rigorists also called by that name—the stone-cold absence of true devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus—which forcefully purifies us in the gushing torrents of its self-sacrificing, highly-objectified Love—is to be seen in a developing veritable doctrine of the unavoidability of frequent mortal sin among the laity. We who in the estimation of a great many, perhaps the bulk, of the trad clergy, just like their forerunners among the ancient Scribes and Pharisees, are “steeped in sin from our conception”. It is impossible for these largely cold-blooded clerics to see that a layman who lives his Faith today will readily be intimately, undyingly united to that Heart wherein alone he may enter to find repose. Achieving rest from what is nothing less than an agonizing and protracted ordeal: undergoing as he does all the weird, peremptory employment-dismissals, peer- and family-persecutions, and other bizarre and tragic injustices and “pay-back times”: if he is actually a genuine “traditional Catholic” at all. All true Catholics, “in whom there is no guile”, today running such a brutal gauntlet, being hated most for their moral integrity: in a persecution which, if they persevere, readily acts to maintain them in goodness rather than drag them down. Being indeed chastised and purified under the scourge of injustice, resembling in many ways today’s unjustly-persecuted Muslims: marked out for suspicion precisely because of their modesty, gravity, justice of speech and behavior, virtues which betray themselves in ones very gait and manner. And which no doubt call down upon the good Catholic too a host of extra “pat downs” at airports, having been thus “profiled”, for so plainly departing in comportment from the vain, vulgar or self-complacent crowd. True blue Caucasians drawing the instant frightened and paranoid attention of others: store-clerks, librarians, passers-by, air-passenger-security, simply for their candid, unthreatening, Muslim-looking manner. Here in the Land of the Free where to be a certified non-terrorist is to be a belligerent boor like Bill O’Reilly, or like a Lou Dobbs has at last shown himself to so disappointingly be. Just another specimen of up-righteous Americana waving cheaply-bought pro-Israeli aggressive-warfare colors, having reluctantly left the safe-coven of port-deals and illegals. There can seldom be much real allure or comfort to a ceaselessly tormented and misrepresented true believer in the hot breath of violent passion: having as if by definition made a break with human respect and a vast array of the comforts of life in the first place, as a most grueling and effective sort of moral boot-camp. But on the other hand there is indeed contained here a self-revelation, a “dead give-away” about the moral system of most of these modern-day Traditionalists—with whose theology and liturgy I indeed otherwise essentially agree—in that their chief dogma with respect to the laity, just as in New Church, is that they first and foremost “bring in the bacon” and do all those myriad other things, display those crass and boorish personality characteristics, that attend such a pursuit in today’s world. For some decades now the flashing of an attitudinal and behavioral “mark of the Beast” having been more or less rigidly required of the worker on practically every job: an unprecedented invasion-of-rights which however seldom gains the attention of today’s Catholic clergy of any persuasion, let alone of the kingpins of the legal or political world. The vulgar mark being a mandatory insignia if one would “buy or sell”, even the commodity of ones own labor. The resulting struggle of today for “men of goodwill,” to whom alone God gives the incomparable blessing of “peace on earth”, being full of pathos, and at the same time a rare means of the layman’s Christian witness. And conversely an opportunity for the faithless—be they employers, co-workers or onlookers—to find their way—lit so well by such cross-carrying pathfinders—to Christ. Or at least “indulgently” to give the stubborn disciple some vestige of a sorely-need “break”: and thus win graces for themselves at some future, perhaps-salvation-pivotal time. Or alternately to find such a “suffering servant” to be a stumblingblock, “a sign to be contradicted”, which is by far the more-usual thing, and thus take a big step toward “going their own way”.
But dismissing such profundities with little ado, and denying desperately-needed comforts and assurances of solidarity, such a “traditional” clergy places a crass and heavy bundle of go-getter demands “on the backs of others”, which they themselves need “lift not a finger to bear”. Perhaps even pointing out the illegals as an example of intrepid worker staying-power: totally ignoring the prejudicial sociology which corporate America has deliberately imbedded in the whole murderously-unfair phenomenon. Gross worldly imperatives being rated far above the Decalogue itself by these unworthy men of the cloth—Commandments which are rather a “yoke sweet and a burden light” to these true and intrepid workplace warriors—a clergy become veritable enforcers of a conformist regimen which easily take the worker’s wife into its harsh orbit as well. She who is also sternly bidden, in the mottled light of the confessional and in so many words, to keep up appearances (almost like the horrible BBC show by that name) so as to make her man, and herself too, entirely acceptable in the eyes of a corporate-employer dominated world. So the mortal sins that such hyper-worldly exertions so easily bring in their train—and that have nothing whatever to do with good, honest labor—for a humanity which is strictly forbidden to thus “serve two masters”—or to harbor those worldly solicitudes about success and survival “after which the gentiles seek”—these grave sins are increasingly all but required content in practically every confession for the traditionalist laity. The still-rather-typically breezy New Church version arriving at the same non-normative result from an entirely different route. And their absence will likely-enough bring a ruthless sifting, a cynical questioning of honesty. As if a Catholic living in the modern-day catacombs would have the temerity to come to the confessional and lie to God.
In “setting their teeth on edge” against the generous ambiance of the Sacred Heart men reject the fountainhead of song, romance and poetry, the ultimate human/divine fruit of history. Thus in the USA and in Israel of today are the universally-hospitable and heartening courtesies and symbolisms of mankind replaced by a social milieu which is fraught with suspicion, the gratuitous and undue taking-of-offense, frequent small-minded undercutting and unfairness of every kind. Hardly the tried, true and authentic world of a Gene Autry or a Ken Maynard of the thirties and forties: that real America that (temporarily?) died on 22/11/63. The true virilities of the Sacred Heart, after which all true men everywhere aspire, being abandoned in favor of a social existence modeled after the survival-struggles of the animal kingdom. Namely that long-celebrated dog-eat-dog world of a radical capitalism believed in like a rabid and false religion. For despite all the born-again salesmanship there obviously drives our society and its laws and official and quasi-official institutions—especially since the Kennedy assassinations, and the composite Bush/Gingrich New Right takeover, in two broad historical increments—an oddly-messianic conviction that this world is all that really matters; that the after-life is a mere illusion: and that one must therefore “grab what one can”. Whether internationally, on the job, or in the neighborhood. Plainly, officially and constitutionally, with legal and political-ideological precedents actually going back to the very beginning, defining freedom and democracy as a more-or-less total practical disavowal of all Faith and neighbor-loving natural- or divine-law moral principle. With accompanying victories of technology, of air travel, of the increasingly trivial, tawdry and breakable products of today’s mass-assembly—even these however largely accidents of economic history and of an unfair control of finance—with these baubles somehow touted as the justifying prize, the acme of human achievement. This at all public levels of media, education and political leadership. While the Vatican II “love” is no obstacle at all to these falsehoods: rejecting in effect as it does the traditional Catholic loyalties of the Sacred Heart, the all-points antidote to this crass and pitiless agenda. The will of a tiny agnostic elite plainly being enforced, intensifying a social degeneration of the most moribund kind even as I write. A timetable of doom pedaled in the shuttle diplomacy of Condoleezza Rice. Ordinary Americans, to the degree they are motivated by these insidiously-inculcated sentiments, showing themselves in many ways to actually believe that the rest of mankind is inferior. Asians, Europeans and Africans counted as natural fall guys, simply because they more commonly retain customs and manners that are inclusive, kindly, humane, without guile.
Here then finally is uncovered the issue upon which is waged the real and more-essential battle of history: between those cooperative ones with “a heart of flesh” and those who deep down would gladly turn back the pages of history to prehistoric times, in the name of some Zarathustra, some Nietzschean Superman, if sometimes in innocuous-looking “democratic” garb. To whom “real life” is always some heartless, bloody or rapacious affair. And who likewise construct a view of government, of order, of society which is abstract and impersonal, indifferent to human sentiments, infirmities, as if to things base or vile. An approach which repudiates the mild, encouraging, truly-civilizing influence of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. But the dearest hopes of all Godly peoples are secured in this the Eternal Judge of all things: He Who will have the last loving Word in human affairs.
July 6, 2006: Kids want to work.
One doesn’t get a degree largely at state expense and then prate nonsense because it is the fashion: to do so would be a scholarly species of treason. Thus the tack taken on this page: “yeh and nay” and from point A to point B. And thus also a second look at the execution of Socrates might well be in order: since the treason of a scholar is more typically a hard-to-pinpoint, insidious aborting of the national greatness, but none the less treacherous for sanitized appearance of the precise and innocuous. Hence possibly enraging the town fathers of the time against the fabled founder of the Peripatetic school of Classical Age Greece—a novel group of stroll-taking thinkers—was the bizarre cult of Greek homosexual gymnastics which no doubt flourished with special fanfare around the thus-occupied youths: as it does indeed around our universities today. In a Greece whose aggressive, indeed rapacious commercial/military policies had provided ample scope for idle propensities, indulgences made possible by ill-gotten gains which accrued thereby. And we see the same sequence today in more ways than one, in a Western society absolutely ruled by the barest lusts and the most childish, obnoxious motivations: if sometimes masquerading in borrowed trappings from our civilized past. Degenerate activities arising as well from the wallowing surplus which readily accrues to unjust gain: both in commerce and by the sword. That which is very simply a bad tree that cannot bear good fruit. And the kind of scholarship it cultivates is furthermore potentially a curse rather than a blessing. Which leads me parenthetically to query, can we expect this noxious, odious tree with its poisonous albeit treacherously-fascinating fruit—transplanted to Iraq, Afghanistan, or Mongolia (no doubt suddenly finding dangerous little Bin Ladens on the furthest and bitterest wind-blown northern Steppe)—can we expect it, thus translated, to bear good fruit at last, in these new surroundings? Nay, it will remain the same.
Not that erudition is wrong—an opinion which would be a gross folly in its own right—and even the educated fool can be of service—this by way of a certain opulence of diction, style, taste, and so on—since these people supremely love to hear themselves talk—an airy eloquence which the wide-eyed younger brother or niece might then easily harness to nobler tasks of the clergy, the arts or the state ministry, if minus the vain excesses. Thus do we do well to keep “great families”, even granting a degree of indulgence to the common generality of their faults: provided they don’t slip into a truly-vicious degeneracy, in which they can quickly become a curse on the polity, like large hail on a smiling crop. But returning to the scholar: that leisurely learning which is the fruit of tyranny, of usury (which before God includes all forms of the charging of interest) and of aggressive warfare—and which reciprocates by providing these wrongs with erudite excuses—this kind of scholarship, too, is bound to bear foul fruit: “A bad tree cannot bear good fruit….”
But the ancient Greeks were really no mean species: indeed the original vigorous Greek stock—which has of course amplified itself in our own Christian Era—produced the first stirrings of a unique and wholesome form of self-government from out of the humble seedbed of the Agora, or the village and urban marketplace. One can readily picture the last of this hearty breed—like some of our own hold-overs of an almost-forgotten resourceful and clean-hearted American existence—taking up this Socrates and accusing him of perverting youth. Of drawing young men away from responsible tasks which would have strongly discouraged corrupt and degenerate habits. Such as so easily accrue to those who spend their time gadding about the city (perambulating: thus the name peripatetic), drawing lengthy comparisons, constructing towering syllogisms. Indeed, out of the same Peripatetic school would come that Plato—a brilliant proto-philosopher indeed—who would however write the first clever rationalization for tyrants, misnamed (as such things usually are) “The Republic”.
In all such matters object-lessons abound, so that as if to teach us that “things never really change” we have today the leadership of our own peripatetic NEA: the educational Pied Piper, the leading and “empowered” intellectual wanderer who never settles down to a good and wise course, but multiply theories ad infinitum. And then callously applies them to our young, placed with today’s incomprehensible limp trustfulness under its care. Educators at all levels—with the all-important NEA endorsement—producing the same sort of youth as once corrupted the clean air of Athens with their sterile paradigms and morbid follies. While at higher education levels Yale even perpetuates the European Brotherhood of Death in its Skull and Bones, whose chief foul fruit has been the two Bush Presidents. A globalist organization which would destroy all human life except for a tiny elite. And with even they inevitably imprisoned in a primitive world of flint-axe aggression and retaliation, one against the other: until practically none is left. That is, if God were to allow such fools so much power: serpents who will no doubt cause some further havoc, but who basically only “lie in wait for her heel”: that of Our Blessed Lady.
Thus too today’s path dependency: with so much that comes of R & D or engineering chaining us to a cyber-driven way of life gaining in counter-developmental, anti-human aspects at a geometric rate, emasculating our responses to disasters, robbing us of the crucial interplay of mind and will, or of will and act. Interposing a device of some kind between these fundamentals of life at every turn. And not coincidentally multiplying debt-servicing stations like proverbial rabbits: since these networks are all fabulously expensive to build, and yet pay us back so little in return, of wealth-producing means by which to pay back such staggering sums. A speedy return to the brick-pits of Egypt being the “progressive” agenda here.
Hence with rare abandon falling into such a whirling hopper is a youth progressively prone to violence, just as were the bloodthirsty mobs of the ancient Greek street corner or hippodrome. We call “democratic rule” the unleashing of unparalleled acts of cruelty and oppression upon other lands: lies helped along by being uttered with scholarly, condescending tones by press secretaries and department heads. And under the same Skull and Bones banner we have whole generations now turning to the works of sodomy, of death rather than life, and “reaping the fitting reward in their own bodies for their deeds”.
The other day I had occasion to meet a couple of young fellows—of ages about 3 and 5—who quickly became engrossed in my carpentry tasks of the time. But they were called away by their mother—a good woman to be sure—who wanted them to play with some toy. For out of both a Reformer confusion of work itself with a post-Eden punishment for sin—which it is not—and out of a closely-related wholesale exploitation of others, there has developed a culture here which finds labor—that which makes us most resemble God the Creator—to be a fit occupation only for “lesser” nationalities or income groups. And largely for this reason the inculcation of a desire to work in a child is considered base and undesirable. Granted, it isn’t that I think a lad of three, five or ten should be chained to some grinding task from dawn to dusk, but they should be encouraged to interest themselves earnestly in constructive things, and in play only as an equally-pleasant relief from same. But instead I fear that these fine young lads—positively bursting with health and intelligence, with youthful vigor, wonder and potency—will go the way of their unhappy older peers of today. Having been diverted away—by hovering elders—from habits which, if cultivated, would have gone much of the way toward rendering useless our prisons and rehab centers. Discouraged from achieving an enveloping culture of building, of planting, of accomplishment: which may have been the real crime of Socrates. By which industry I mean nothing like the perverse and destructive Horatio-Alger/Robber-Baron “success” ethic that was much of the problem in the first place. A mere squandering of the goods and resources of this world. But a child of today who loves to work would be considered a real abnormality: and until this changes, a dismal fate for our society is assured.
June 30, 2006: Cornering the Bull.
The claim actually being gradually introduced through a phony war-footing media is that any internet-based opposition to Bush’s global campaign of perpetual aggressive warfare is to “aid and abet the enemy”. Hence the assertion that “Al Qaeda” is so “informal” and “disjointed” that any “propagandist” can use the web as a channel not only of “new orders” but also of “new inspiration” for terrorist deeds. But just like all of Bush’s novel definitions-of-things, this kind of categorization has undisclosed future purposes in mind: being highly useable selectively against almost anyone, or collectively against whole populations of a certain belief. With the Bush-classical hyperventilating or blustering nameless fear leading the way. But yet-more-obviously this new hypothesizing is aimed at the eventual targeting of certain crusading elements in our own civilian population; and is edging closer and closer to opening up a Gestapo-type raid-mentality, to multiply exponentially our number of Abu Ghraibs and Guantanamos. Indeed to make these look like island resorts. By such treacherous means, then, the few truly freedom-favoring qualities of the net—like a universal awareness of state terrorism and crimes against humanity—become criminalized in and of themselves.
But of course we who think—rather than just react—know that Bush and company are the aggressors, the terrorists, the chief engineers of 9/11, as I have basically maintained since the kick-off of the Iraq War and before. When the pattern of the Bush propaganda became so apparent to the observing eye.
No, Adolph, I will not be made complicit with your schemes—neither by silence nor by active support—no matter how much you ply your less and less veiled threats. You traitor, you Judas, whose stony, incorrigible soul came through only yesterday, when faced with the fact of a rebellious Supreme Court. Which for a change only gave you part of your demand. But you are dealing here with the God of truth, who can even at times penetrate the minds of our Justices. And this divine Opponent will win out, and you, like other tyrants of ages past, will be but a quickly and happily forgotten memory. Indeed, it is you, the traitor, whom these up-in-arms Arabs and Muslims detest, and fight against: not America nor Americans.
I myself believe the truly-valuable uses of the internet are quite limited, but it does work toward making the world too small for Genghis Khan hold-overs like you to so easily have their way. Tyrants who today hide in the thicket of false information, of a pliable and controlled media, behind which you most effectively ambush your fellow man. Skillfully using as snares a host of shrill and hysterical TV yes-people: which we independent commentators and analysts dutifully expose for what they truly are.
No, you false Christian, you and your soul-mate mercenaries will spread your sodomy, your worship of the Judeo-Canaanite phalanx symbol, both as a means of interrogation and a way of life: this all the while you pose as the defender of the married state. You chief example of the odious phenomenon of the “loyal opposition” to the steady Satanic takeover which you so dramatically advance by your wars and domestic policies. Fountainheads only of despair. With only very gaudy and theatrical—but designedly ineffective—measures toward the defeat of both anti-life and a rampantly marching sexual perversion. When with all the false prestige you garnered at such a price you could have seen these evil institutions banished forever, since only a small percentage of Americans actually have any interest in them. But your days will be shortened, as God will not have “his elect led astray”.
It is John Kennedy’s “New Generation of Americans” which is taking over from your cartel of mobsters, Zionists and oil-men. That conspiracy which put he and his brother under. Your Skull and Bones crew are the genuine Al Qaeda, the genuine terrorist coalition against an entire globe. And your Wizard of Oz act, with your lying, spectacular manipulation of fireworks and visual effects, your bit-doctored pictures of long-dead “terrorists”: this is the real digital propagandist who incites violent and despicable crimes.
June 27, 2006: “I couldn’t find anyone else who was qualified.”
We’ve all heard the old illegal-employer saw, “Americans won’t do that kind of work”, which is somehow supposed to take in all the thousands of occupations now being saturated with illegals. Then of course there’s the trusty alternative, “Americans won’t accept that kind of pay”, which has been proven false time and again. And now there another of these slippery-Harry standbys: “I couldn’t find anyone else who was qualified”. However not mentioned is the fact that the illegal was likewise not qualified. Which means that all standards of licensing, transport, telecom, references, job history, you name it: all these hundred-and-one qualifications which are rigidly insisted upon in the case of the American-citizen worker, but breezily ignored in the case of the illegal. Since in the vast majority of instances the spring-loaded aim-all-along is instantaneously pursued: the hiring of an illegal, qualified or no. Thus a case in point, an ad for some sort of home health care worker. The lowest job on the totem pole, but an ad absolutely chocked full of licensing and other qualifications. And you can bet some Hispanic who speaks no English, and has no license of any kind, will get the job. I know, for me and my wife have had to fish this general end of the job market on several occasions, when all else has failed. We supposedly “not willing to work” White people. (But as noted elsewhere, our lamentable lack of Barbie- or Bobby-doll-pink, “1-A character-type”, complexions can find us classed as almost any race, in an employer-prejudicial pinch. The result of a vintage-vehicle lack of upwardly-mobile tinted auto-glass; and a consequence as well of going on old fashioned hikes and strolls. The sorts of backward and incriminating things for which others in the old Orwellian novel were swept up by security patrols. And taken to tidy reeducation camps, so as to relinquish these dangerous habits.)
But actually, there is another sick phenomenon to be uncovered in this whole business of finding work in the “land of the free”: namely that U.S. employers are full of strange obsessions about those they hire. Point-proving is paramount in the American workplace: strange ordeals and rights-of-passage from which those from other lands are generally exempted. Thus have I known of limitless numbers of people forced off jobs—or made miserable there—simply because of their high levels of ability—which was “too much” for the hyper-sensitive ego of their boss or business owner. Like the painter in the Omaha area who could paint rings around anyone in the company, including the contractor himself, and with whom the latter was constantly picking totally unprovoked verbal fights, and plainly spoiling for a physical one as well. A guy, a great asset to his company, whom he finally (Horatio-Alger-“successfully”) drove away. While if good Christian character is part of the mix, too, then difficulties for the “new hire” mount accordingly: especially pitiful being the typical case of the employer who has mastered the ingratiating body-language of the modern middle class social ethic, only to find out that some own-business-minding new-hire sails head and shoulders serenely above him in every genuine category of proficiency; maybe even knows the finer details of his business better than he does. A worthy guy slated to be replaced by some illegal who is no challenge to anyone, because of this mysterious dividing line, this deadly competition for finalist standing in this native-son “American dream” marathon.
June 27, 2006: Christian agency, maturity, alacrity, contemplation: how rediscover the foundation-stones of a lost Catholic Way?
As demonstrated repeatedly on this page the enemy, whether earthly or preternatural, overcomes Christians, who wish only to go about their constructive tasks, through the minutiae of daily existence. As the psalms indeed tell us, he far more frequently lays ”foot-snares” of a thousand astute varieties, rather than mounting frontal assaults. And more recently moreover he has succeeded at this strategy beyond his wildest dreams: having constructed an entire way of life like a little city built of toothpicks out of these seemingly inconsequential bits and pieces of a modern existence of a baleful, dummed-down routine. That little match-stick city whose belittling byways and back-alleys we must run like veritable rats in a maze. All this being arranged largely through this enemy’s utter stranglehold on finance. In this way he steals from the Catholic and Western man, bit by bit, that inner orientation, that noble bearing which was once supremely ours. Making us “lose the forest for the trees” or toothpicks.
But the problem with these minutiae is that they can quickly be mobilized into rank and file, which is basically what happened after the Kennedy assassinations. With an economy, as Robert had indeed warned, which had steadily become infiltrated by mob or mob-related elements—if according to a freely-sliding scale. And then too there were the secret societies: so that if you have a nation that is honeycombed with such forces, the mobilization of these brigades of minutiae is always an imminent possibility. Those details of life we had allowed over the centuries to slip further and further away from a godly, a Christian molding, modeling or character. While amid the nebulae of such a post-Kennedy existence the Black elements of the CIA, the NSA and the other intelligence agencies would gradually come out of the woodwork: among which dark figures were policy-setters like George Bush Sr., who once headed these agencies. (And more cryptically, Bush Jr., said by a very believable guy-on-the-spot of my acquaintance to have flown planes full of guns to Latin American rebels, returning from thence with plane-loads of narcotics). All of these insidious forces, civilian and military, going back ultimately to the B’nai B’rith for their orders, and from there to the State of Israel. And for whom the killing of the Kennedy’s was a veritable bloody watershed of future free-wheeling power.
Overnight, then, we found ourselves in such a basically Jewish world: to which a cravenly apologetical anti-pope Vatican—and Vatican II—that indispensable confessional flank of a traumatic actual and psychological blitzkrieg—held white and red hats in hand. For once the treacherous Judas deed was done—as represented by this odious, quibbling gathering—then only especially pious poses would be required—that choreography which John, John Paul II and Benedict would all be so singularly good at achieving. For the walls of the fortress had already been surrendered, and henceforth the best pose for traitors would be to look exceedingly benign. For custom—the abandonment of which Augustine plainly considers a kind of practical apostasy—had been given up without a whimper by these oh-so pious and theatrical clerics. Those “customs and usages” which form a unique glue which holds together everything we do, so that thereafter everything would designedly be up for grabs. A void—once filled by the mild Christian ambiance of the generations—now quickly filled up with Jewish forms like rap and other forms of rock music, anti-life and sodomy, and all their tumultuous trappings. And we are furthermore all still reeling from the blow, albeit administered with such delicate care. A sort of “killing me softly”, to quote the title of a song of the times. Although actually John’s accommodations—with his perfectly gratuitous “if elected, I won’t be taking orders from Rome”—as if to deny that Rome is the primeval source of our authentic law, freedom and Civilization—and as if conversely to suggest that Rome would have any interest in stealthily going against the sovereign will of a people, that self-government of which it had always been prime champion—this attitude laid open the way for such a very catastrophe as would indeed so quickly ensue.
Hence it is our task to rediscover in the shortest and simplest possible space what that inner something was that we all once had—or that was the heirloom at least of our grandparents or great-grandparents—before this assault of the minutiae. The whole gamut of trivialities ordered by ironclad protocols: in hefty increments with 11/63 and 09/01. Bringing us buzzwords, poses, postures, vicious jokes, disrespectful gutter-talk, funky, ungainly and immodest clothing and bad manners in abundance. “Realistic” things that would reputedly make the Christian Way “irrelevant”, in the words of the wrecking-crew of Vatican II.
Actually what we have when we “have it together” as Catholics, this something might be termed by so ordinary-sounding a name as Christian maturity. But the eremitical fathers of the ancient Church around the desert of Skete and the Thebaed in Egypt used to call it gravity. It is basically a weighty counterbalancing combination of all the virtues: something which however assumes a Christian atmosphere for its widespread fruition, failing which any number of ad hoc personal or familial versions of a retreat to the catacombs is required. For one thing because this interior poise—or marvelously ripe wine—is a priceless commodity impossible outside the cellars of an intense life of prayer, even of contemplation: something obviously impossible in a life lived entirely amid the madding crowd. But what is contemplative prayer? Or its more minimal forms that fall under the more generic title of affective prayer? Well, modern-day Catholics of both the right and the left all seem to think it is bound up with some kind of emotionalism, but although emotion does indeed play a part, to think of contemplation in such trivial terms is to miss the mark by a mile. But suffice it to say that the two—Christian maturity or gravity and profound levels of prayer—are perfectly inseparable. And furthermore they are entirely bound up with living the Faith, not just talking about it, or “only saying ‘Lord, Lord’”.
The first traces of this critical interior gravity ensue when we leave off the biblical “milk diet”: a spirituality which requires constant comforts and satisfactions, like a babe at the breast. And when one attains to this benchmark in anything like its full measure one truly becomes “a new creation”, “the old things (having) passed away”. Becoming a perfect mystery to others not thus formed, non-initiates, who “know not where (such a one) comes from or whither he goes”. It isn’t that you don’t still love the same things, the same people, the same places, once this transformation is wrought: but you love them in an entirely different way. And there are still to be found “feelings”, comforts and “consolations” of sorts but they have aged, as it were, as if in casks of oak, to use the imagery of St. John of the Cross. And this is where the big rub comes in for those who attain to this gravity: although—perhaps the biggest shock of all to many—there are some who never lost it. Namely those one-time numerous little baptized children who had it in perfect measure—evident indeed, like little anchorites, in their very recollected and earnest manners and facial expressions—their veritable hunger for prayer: as I used to observe in a niece and nephew of my own. That is, before it was too-typically effaced completely by the fun-loving adults around them. “Unless you become as little children”. It isn’t that these kids—especially of generations past—didn’t play and have fun, but it was with a good and in its own way wise manner that they did so. Having had their red rover and other fun sports, but having managed to conduct them in an entertainingly-expeditious manner. Without all the wild-eyed hubbub of the modern and mostly miserably-unhappy child.
Alas, if I was ever such a grave child, I did indeed lose this thing, this gravity, this maturity, this fertile interior garden of all the virtues. And it took me until the age of 23 to begin slowly and painstakingly to regain it. But for me the generously offered blood-trail of the Kennedy brothers formed a veritable path to such a renaissance. Such a floral recovery in a garden in which nonetheless after such a long period of neglect there were many noxious weeds to “root up and to tear down”, as is typically the case. Before I could properly “build and plant” the virtues in sturdy permanence. An enterprise especially difficult because it has always been considered patently “un-American” to “get so intense”, so “un-cool”, about anything: basically even among religious. (Here in the USA where the “live wire” religious, who has brought with him such enormous scandals, is no doubt, and doggedly-nonetheless, still the norm—vocation-directors inevitably averring that aspirants must be more giggly-gregarious and wired-up still. This live-wire—or at least brisk Chaney-no-nonsense—persona being a sine qua non without which you can be sure that an aspirant is greeted by diocesan or religious-order vocation-directors with a blank stone face, or a pleasant lack-of-resonance which means entirely the same thing.
It was the Louis prior to that time that everyone seemed to remember—and seems still to remember—and to sorely miss: folks I found suddenly around my elbows, back in those early days, not a few of whom had seldom before given me the time of day: and even then not infrequently with airs of frayed irritation. People who express the same astonished sentiments now well-nigh-unto forty years later, if I happen to run into any of them, as if “this thing”, this change, had happened only yesterday. The old fool I once was being still sought now vainly but with eager expectation by this crowd, thus evincing an odd sort of “hope springs eternal”. As attested by their exasperated, “come off it, Lou”: the mildest of their reproaches. For when you begin to “practice prayer” as St. Teresa called it—that which was however the very woof of the life of much of the Catholic peasantry—all of human society suddenly seems to be up in arms about it; against (again quoting the incomparable saint) “all these ‘goings on’”.
But more incredible still is the way you will be “put through the ropes” by these many burgeoning critics—standing now stolidly rooted to the spot where before there had only been vacant air—as if they themselves were prayerful religious disciplinarians of the first water, doing duty as cracker-jack masters of novices of their own little strictly-governed cloister. Frowning and exacting paragons—if commonly on alternating days roistering good ole boys or girls down at the club, office or shop—who are going to make you “prove your (pious) metal” in the most rigorous sorts of ways. Tests which I usually failed miserably these last many years: not least because I was totally unaware of them, or of their odd and peculiar terms and parameters, typically until they were already long over with. As phantom smirks would duly suggest. Or after I had already been irretrievably caught, like a bird in a skillfully-placed snare. Perhaps still remaining oblivious to this great sifting process: only knowing that everything was going wrong that might depend on the help of mortal man. For as the same anchor, this St. Teresa, also said: you will be expected to be absolutely perfect in every respect, once you have made the plunge for contemplation and all it entails. In the midst of which assessments it is not for the man of prayer—if I may take to myself this noblest of titles—to ask or be told anything, but only to be quietly and critically observed by these great condescending soul-searchers. Indeed in being thus scored I was even allowed “handicaps” I never knew I had, in this great tournament: from these judges who thus gravely credited themselves with being supremely fair. And when I did fall, which as the same Saint tells us you may easily do, even perhaps gravely, on this course: these seasoned pros would take it as proof positive that such an unpromising rookie as I should never have taken club in hand in the first place; indeed being marked out, with a great bringing-down of gavels, as an example to others. In a society in which the simple practice of Catholicism itself is inexorably being criminalized, let alone the passionate pursuit of “popery’s” deepest divinely-instituted secrets and hidden joys. (The latter pejorative—last heard in already-outdated rantings of Blackstone—being an abominable anachronism “up dated” in Bush I to Bush II America, and duly used by one of my professors some years ago already). The whole contest indeed conducted with a good deal of celebratory fanfare, from which I was pointedly excused: on a course for which the ever-untried and often feckless golfer basically has no guide, a gamut of hills and sand-traps entirely unique to each person. And I tell you this, furthermore, not to gain your sympathy but rather because this general sort of thing would probably have happened to anyone who tried to attain this gravity, this balancing of the virtues, this contemplative prayer, in their own personal lives.
But the saddest thing of all to me—well beyond the travesty of my own foot-dragging in finally beginning to “grow up” spiritually—and as much as I should be flogged for some of the shameless things I did and said prior to that time—far more tragic is the fact that for most Americans the last days of high school are the very acme of their existence. Life will “never get any better” for them. The senior prom or some such ritual occasion is “about it”: an epithet uttered solemnly or giddily over many a sadly wasted life.
But returning to gravity: this is in great measure the thing that was so “odd” about the Croatian mine and steel-mill workers, mostly peasants, who came over here during the first half of the twentieth century and earlier. And for whom this “all American boy” thing would be decidedly left for later generations. Like the one, “just off the boat”, if I may borrow a true story from an Arizona cowboy who told it to me, this immigrant (quite legally) who thought that well-polished car-fenders were places to strike matches to light cigarettes with. He meant no harm at all, but earned the instant ire of some lad in blue jeans to whom the vehicle belonged, loitering, as was our Croat, out in front of the dancehall. This young buck mustered up all his courage and forthwith came up and hit the giant with all his might, square on the jaw. Which latter peasant shook his head in utter astonishment for a second and then exclaimed, “what’s a matta’ you, keed?” That’s how much the little sock on the jaw meant to him. So many things in life were more important to this Luka or Ma’tasha or Dujo than the marred polish on a car-fender, or some “keed” coming up and hitting him. Let alone could he have been prevailed upon, having been thus assaulted by this blond-haired little fury, to think there was something to prove. Some trading of “manly” blows. And although there’s much more to genuine spiritual gravity than that, yet this is certainly a good and representative beginning.
But what is this contemplative—or “affective”—prayer that leads to the acquisition of such an all-important, virile boon? To virtues that are like a tightly-fitting armor? Among rugged-looking men whose faces at prayer could speak volumes about Paradise, in silent words “it is forbidden to utter”. Another of the great spiritual fathers made this comparison: “Prayer is to smell; meditation is to taste; contemplation is to eat”. While emotion is the most peripheral possible thing involved: feelings being a big ingredient in the noted “milk diet”, but with the onset of this contemplative life—for it is indeed a way which changes us forever—sentiments and comforts are steadily as it were ossified, calcified, like a log under water for a compressed span of eons. Turned into an entirely different substance, with only the erstwhile grainy appearances remaining. The result being solid as rock, or ethereal as the incense of Heaven. And if the tears do flow, and they often do, they are then the very envy of the angels. For in fact what takes place in contemplative prayer isn’t goose bumps—although they too may appear—but the consuming of a Substance: God. Or rather a being-consumed by Same. In a progressive “I must become less and less” of the Baptist which ends in a triumphant “I live now, not I, but Christ in me” of a St. Paul. Contemplation is the most active, the most bold and virile, the most volcanically-consequential of activities, having much to do with that mysterious phrase of Our Blessed Lord Himself: “My food is to do the will of Him Who sent me”. Which for us means to live the Faith, and to spurn the trivialities of the rat-maze. Else we be but “tinkling brass”.
The aged and mellowed satisfaction, the emotion that accompanies this Food, this lived Faith, is very much like that of our peasant after his day’s hard labor. One must experience it to know it: this sober satiety that was no doubt seen on the face of many-a Croatian miner, or heard in his accents, so many years ago. Perhaps the very one at the dance, after the little scratch had healed, after his long shift at the mine. When he came home weary, perhaps stumbling down the path, edged by prickly pear, yucca and mesquite. Maybe not only from sheer exhaustion but also because of mischievous little Anglo boys who were wont on occasion to set trip-wires, just to hear him shout in his musical Croatian tones as he so heavily fell. As he headed to his little shack-like dwelling that almost everyone in that part of Arizona lived in, clear up until the 1970s. If he was married, bringing to his family the grave testimony of his love. Of a life as testified by age-stained tombstones of these “Austrian” or “Dalmatian” workers in mining towns in California gold-rush days—and loaders of blast furnaces, under incredibly primitive working conditions, back East up til the turn of the century. A life which in most cases would not span much beyond thirty or thirty-five years. Of a man who could only stay awake long enough to eat, and who then slept “the sleep of the just”. Ah, yes, that unforgettable sleep, which I still remember endowing the face of my own good father: that is perhaps the closest possible earthly analog, or testimony, to this kind of food, to this “doing the will of Him who sent Me”. To this gravity, this contemplative prayer.
June 20, 2006: The brave new radical capitalism of the Bush era: putting all our eggs in one digital basket.
I have often asserted that life on earth must be lived at a certain tempo: one that is systematically violated in today’s corporate cyber-space world. The human pace being one outside of which we can never really find ourselves: even though we meet ourselves coming and going, in a dull blur, a thousand times a day. Let alone do we find or understand others: learning only to recognize four or five stereotypes urged with peculiar dogged insistence by the floor-managers of the multinational world. Models meant to be copied by the dutiful crew of an aspiring starship world. Modern computerization having introduced a hiatus in human interaction which is so disastrous that its final effects are impossible to gauge or foresee: although what we have seen already is enough to turn a wise person’s hair white from fright. Producing a growing alienation, a lack of a simple critical objectification, a frighteningly brittle personal inner ambivalence: no doubt contributing greatly to a rapidly-rising violent crime. All this amid a new Atlantis in which we can have every conceivable chore or courtesy done for us: no doubt someday with clever digital devices of every kind ready to jut from the woodwork as we pass on some busy errand, or while we sleep, to clip, manicure or massage. And cell-phones someday so small they will simply be imbedded in us: so we can imagine our so-“bonded with” friend is right inside us, jabbering away: even terms for friendship now using the solder-bound imagery of the circuit-board. As if rational creatures were not involved. And the boss will even have our tasks outlined for us somewhere on this bionic patch, and a little alarm-bell inserted as well: if we wish to have a job. So that we needn’t worry any longer about ever again being remiss, or getting up too late in the morning. Have no doubt that this is on the agenda, among other noteworthy new freedoms of a space-age world.
However and as noted such a fantasyland has no place in the human scheme of things: whether of freemen or of galley slaves. We will never escape our mortal bodies, this earth, this our human reservoir or cultivar. Our little wine barrel of a life which can only make a vintage by fermenting a certain sort of yeast-coated grape. No, try as we might to escape it, to be beamed up to some other world, we are all terrestrial creatures: the sorts of beings one of which I am supremely content to remain. And I think that after a few more Katrinas, Iraqs and stolen general elections—and tens of millions more stolen bank accounts, forged drivers licenses and social security cards—and other such cyber-based wonders—everyone will be solicitously seeking a return to just such a humble, earthy condition. Away from a cyber-based system in which the genuine economic multipliers involved are drastically and rapidly shrinking, not increasing. A hemorrhage of the myriad subtle components of human capital in particular. As if in favor of a radical new anti-life economic system seemingly meant to curtail human life, not advance and enable it. Or perhaps being a first echelon of divine punishments, and a guilt-ridden self-enslavement, for the abortuary and aborto-facient (these “birth control pills”, for decades already, don’t allow fetal attachment to the wall of the womb, thus assuring an instant death to the tiny cellular child) world we have made. And although we may still indeed be aided here and there, in that sweet restoration that soon will be, by some sorts of “high tech” gadgets, such things are however doomed from then onward—after this coming great awakening—to be regarded with a large grain of salt indeed. True progress being found once again to be in wise leadership, in human concord: not in mere bald things, let alone in deified nano-impulses in some microchip. The new and smaller version of the old Tower of Babel, or Egyptian pyramids: no showpieces of liberty or humanity by any means. Of course a cream-skimming, elite-enriching, functionally-gratuitous stock market will undoubtedly attempt to lead that coming truly bullish rally as well—just as it did these mortgage bubble and Computer Revolutionary ones—but maybe by then we will all be wise to that insidious vehicle of human regimentation too. And to the attractive way it promotes penury with its worthless little jingles and baubles.
I have no interest in getting a second heart, liver or kidney: whether a digital one or one stolen from someone in a car-wreck or on death row, before he/she breathes their last. In those new breeds of judicial murders—and foregoing parallel fraudulent redefinitions of death—for which the Terri Schiavo case was the grand IPO. Executions whether here or in a less-fussy Communist China: where in the latter land and with supreme dispatch they just shoot the criminal in the head (maybe some woman who has had “one too many” babies?), and then grab the organ(s) while they bleed. All these tidy Han Chinese, scurrying around in the basement garage under the hospital, doing their efficient little multi-tasks. Nor for that matter do I wish money to become any more meaningless than it already has become, in this cyber-age multiplication of instruments, forgeries, methods-of-transfer, and raidings-of-accounts—departing yet further from its solid function as a simple, stable, transaction-multiplying medium-of-exchange. I only want to live my human life at its proper tempo, in its proper ambience: in which I can properly save my soul, and in which a twenty or a G is something a dad hands to a son, or a boss to a worker, with the full human persona of body and soul taking its natural place in the matter. And in which the firm handshake or embrace involved carries over into the espirit of what that money does: rather than the mere sterile memory of code numbers and selection buttons on some large or tiny screen.
June 18: Hope springs eternal.
It is after God’s sheep have gotten all tangled in the brambles, and need to have the burrs gently pulled out of their fur, that they turn once again to Him. For its seems that their erstwhile saviors—in the media, the corporate world, education, and so on—being sheep themselves—lack the radial capacity of wrist, and the intelligence of mind, to perform such a delicate operation. This God Who must first go out on the windswept ledge, just as in the famous painting, and pull the stubborn and recalcitrant lamb to safety.
It is within this spirit of childlike hope that the ideas presented here are put forward. A website which recognizes that after all his brave new ideas—vainly attempting to make himself “like unto God”—man must go back bruised and full of painful stickers to his Creator: for his gentle ministrations, for guidance, for “a heart to live”. Here, indeed, in submitting to such loving care, is the founding rock of Western Civilization, as well as the fulfillment of that of the East. In the realization that there is this love, this Fatherhood: and that we needn’t fear the howling wind or waves, whether naturally-catastrophic or political. That He has an “evacuation plan” laid out for us in the tenderest and most considerate of terms. To a higher ground, a firmer citadel. An antechamber, indeed, to paradise: rather than a proud, miserable but admirably-realistic gulag or hovel. To be barked at, while rushed to our doom, by those “wise in the ways of this world”.
Thus setting this site off from so many others is that it utterly repudiates that “bravery”, “realism”, “adulthood” of modern man: that which Jewish movie-makers and film-critics refer to as “honesty”. People who never spoke an honest word in their lives, promoting the rebellious “toughness” or cynicism of a maturity level of the disobedient child. We see hope and joy where others see only a doughty sorrow and despair. Indeed to some it is a blithe spirit or joy amid trials that is regarded as “proof in the pudding” of some degenerate mental or emotional condition. “Only the mad can laugh and smile amid so much pain”, so much toil and humiliation. This the near-universal assessment of those of today trained to ruefully recognize “illusions of grandeur” among those in stark and desperate circumstances; having likewise forgotten St. Paul’s words about “dying, yet behold, we live”. Another of these modern behaviorist dogmas being that a difficult childhood will infallibly be followed by a dysfunctional later-life. Such dire slogan-smithing being the special harsh judgment of a perennial Sanhedrin reserved for the ever-hopeful followers of the Savior. Here being that “maturity” which practically all embraced during the mid-twentieth century: the new hope, the mainstay of modern man being found rather in armed might, in money, in an impressive McMansion with a heavy mortgage, in a cyberspace which is gradually enslaving him, like some galley-slave on some star ship Enterprise. Hardly knowing into what dark nightmares this stellar craft would go. Robbing him of all genuine social reciprocity, and of an inseparable and yet-more-fundamental personal agency. While to add injury to the insult against Gospel “little ones”, any freedom from solicitude about those things “after which the gentiles seek” was left—by these towering “social critics”—as the preserve of the godless hippies and beach-comber crowd, the pot-smokers with their little rough-and-ready mutual aid societies. The only admission requirement of the latter being a willingness to do virtually anything (I will spare you their own notorious expressions for same).
To be so free as we, to wear such a smile, to breath such an air, this is to be called every name imaginable: shiftless or “unstable” being after all the mildest of these. But these “sticks and stones” will not deflect us from such a solid and dependable azimuth. From that True North, that anchor of true hope. Which has boundless economic, international and geopolitical dimensions as well: vital “new worlds” which we invite the reader to join us in exploring.
June 16, 2006: Humility versus trivialization: the measuring stick of diplomats, negotiators and roving ambassadors.
Statesman-like humility never seeks the praise of men, at least not for its own sake: but it does gratefully accept and put to work critical moral, spiritual and intellectual gifts. While triviality typically preens itself on vaunted but rather indifferent qualities, all the while denying that a truly noble cargo can fit into the interior ocean-going hold. Cluttered as it’s inner vessel is with the contraband of verbal bullying and debt-profit privateering, together with all the criminally-obtained dockside trophies with which these are inseparably identified.
Humility accepts the change of heart, the moral conversion, of a sinner—whether a person or a nation—and eagerly anticipates it as an imminent possibility—while trivialization pretends loftily to be able to mark out the damned soul or the “rogue state” at a glance. Even going so far as to demand the latter’s speedy economic or military destruction, or at the very least orchestrating its rejection among sister-nations. Especially thwarting a critical agency or self-determination which in a world of interdependent and constantly-interacting nations requires the positive encouragement and assistance of others. A family of nations indeed, a global hearth at which those not thus “under the gun” warm themselves constantly, and typically regardless of their good or bad behavior.
Real statesmanship requires a certain substantial amount of leisure, or at least a willingness to claim such time for above considerations and others of their kind. Refusing to meekly and invariably bow to arbitrary prioritizations of some path-dependent policy paradigm. For it is within a sovereign peace of mind that truly great ideas are conceived: while many merit-less trivialities are given birth to in the “hustle and bustle of a busy (diplomatic or policy-making) world”.
Humility treats the carefully-camouflaged but unmistakable preening and posturing of racists and nationality-supremacists with the utmost contempt, while the trivial-minded bow to or play-along-with all these juvenile social rituals as if they were great political universals. Losing all claim to wisdom, probity or adulthood in the process.
Triviality “makes no waves” that aren’t already stage-managed on the morning news, or analyzed for correctness before a modern group-think which blindly follows some new pied piper in every field.
Triviality accepts without question the authority of those who nip and tuck a universal consciousness of right and wrong—written on the human heart—into the fabric of an exploitative world economy. Callously and with priggish elitism inventing new, ruthless and “pre-eminent” imperatives, “givens”, and rigid stipulations and timetables. Peremptorily ignoring and compromising that natural law, further ennobled by the divine positive law: comprising a sole twin azimuth of rationality which “can always find a way” for justice and right. In a global relations at whose higher reaches a tandem brotherly-love/divine-glory is the paramount force. While mediocre political figures, if Catholic, twist their Faith out of all recognition, turning it into a subservient spring-board to vaunted pretensions and bloody, reprehensible wars-of-conquest. In a word, true Catholic statesmanlike humility always putting the words of the Savior above all other things, in a political philosophy which finds “the greatest to be as the least, and the least as the greatest”. No matter what might be the personal penalty for such a life-giving, global-prosperity-multiplying advocacy, at the hands of power-hungry nations and men.
Finally, triviality and all related forms of false-pride and craven self-denigration lead to that failed-diplomacy “weeping and gnashing of teeth” which are their fitting reward; while humility—which contains a due measuring of both ourselves and of others—leads to peace on earth, and later to a happy gathering of the nations in eternity.
June 14, 2006: The struggle of the cruel and pitiless to impose their will on the meek and the good: Bush’s and Blair’s aggressive war as a microcosm of the central theme of political/military history.
Israel in Old Testament times was indeed “a people set apart”, but the prime purpose of their setting-aside was only symbolic. Yet from the days of St. Paul this symbolic role—one aspect of which has been as the all-time model of the relationship of an ungrateful and rebellious soul to a generous and forgiving God—has been one which Jews have been unwilling to allow. Rather thinking of the whole of salvation history as purely and strictly being about they themselves: indeed too typically with the rest of mankind regarded as one gigantic lost cause. Hence too that hybrid Christianity which is Jewish in spirit, rigorous and judgmental, and which has been the chief enemy within which the Church has had to fight from the time of the same Paul: as he indeed so compellingly portrays in his Epistles. Giving us too those “false brethren” who would use Christianity as a springboard for Jewish-inspired conquests social, economic and military. While today this pharisaical Judaization of Christianity, and of that Western society which is the latter’s political and military embodiment, is most evident in those nations and systems that choose to ally themselves most closely to the modern state of Israel.
But contagious aggressive habits aren’t just nicely dropped “at the door” of the national domicile, and the Anglo/American idea of democracy is at least as hard on its own citizens as it is on the much-feared Arab. No, its no easy matter to be accepted into this society of barracudas: in which even (and perhaps especially) the (non-forged-documented) citizen has to be forever proving his worth in order to be considered a bone fide member of such a state. Even if these new kinds of “achievers” are typically crass and profitless wastrels at the expense of the national and global industrious, fair-minded and meek. A larceny which on the geopolitical level uses a mammoth debt-leveraging to fund perverted and aggressive wars: holding nations at bay in a way which meets them coming and going. Providing the main critical market for their goods, partaking in a trade-theft-porcine splendor of some six times more than others, and then summarily marching in and taking over this international restaurant before the final tab for the gargantuan “feed” comes due. All this of course to “protect the world from terror”, precisely after the manner of the one-time protection-racket of a young, aspiring, also-wide-girthed Al Capone.
Hence such abominations as Abu Ghraib and a host of other manifestations of this ever-burgeoning go-getter spirit: of which our noble ancestors would have been mortally ashamed. That lone and anti-social pulling-up by pilfered or ill-deserved bootstraps which realistically constitutes the American Dream: not the least of which “work ethic” achievements is our outsourced “care” for the developmentally disabled. A monster-system which already back in the 60s, before it had been thus privatized, was described by the visiting Danish administrator of their own apparatus for the retarded as a barbarity the “Danes wouldn’t inflict on their dogs”. In the first place, a great many of these “clients”, “patients” or “customers”—I have no idea what the constantly-changing term is by now—aren’t actually disabled at all. Victims of an enterprise of which I have had much experience and personal knowledge over the years: my wife having worked in it repeatedly, and I having both volunteered and listened repeatedly to her heart-rending accounts. Very often these “DD” people are of great character, virtue and intelligence who—much like many of our “mental ill”—were somehow found to be an inconvenience to their (go-getter) families or other guardians. Not at all uncommonly while yet a child having failed to come up to the terms and conditions laid down by some third or fourth step-father. Or perhaps having had siblings who considered them an insufferable burden by way of their perfectly kindly and non-threatening goodness: that mild disposition namely which our high-“intake” system typically assumes to signal some dangerously-“repressed” state-of-mind. A great many of these scapegoats—high-earnings assets of a ponderous—indeed moss-covered, Bastille-like—growth industry having come to be regarded as a painful family embarrassment after genuine practical Catholicism and Christianity were for all intents and purposes outlawed during the late sixties and the seventies. Unfortunates for “hopeless” attempts at the “cure” of whose “conditions”—sovereign or personal—many high or low salaries are paid. The proportion of those thus misjudged who are perfectly normal intellectually or mentally/emotionally can easily approach 40% in these so-scientific institutions, among those thus categorized: at least before “the system” does its “intake” on them, and most of them are utterly destroyed in the most drawn-out, inhuman way imaginable. A Terri Schiavo treatment of the mind and heart, a real horror story, a veritable earthly Hell, what happens to these people once they are placed in some hospital, hostel or “half-way house” and pumped full of mind-altering drugs. And regularly “disciplined” in the most clever and insidious ways: by staff members some of whom are drawn to such fields by all the budding instincts of a BTK. A regimen meted out most often—as if by an infallible inner homing device—indeed much after the manner of our war-theater and domestic identification of “terrorism suspects”—to those most innocent and virtuous of deeds and attitudes. A spectacle both my wife and I were unable to tolerate witnessing for very long, out of sheer sorrow for what was seen and heard, and the near-irrepressible desire to humanely take matters in hand, and away from these Dr. Jeckles so imperiously in charge. Places where there is no doubt in my mind these poor people are also experimented upon in the latest Eichmannesque fashion. Modern overwhelmingly-Jewish ever-crypto-human-experimental “medicine” at work here, typically at neatly-blending neighborhood “group home” venues where the most petty, underhanded martinets are given the most authority and power over their charges. And where a worker, a “habilitation technician” who really and in an enlightened way cares for, and seeks the betterment of, these human beings—let alone tried somehow to verbally or actually defend them from the vicious barbs and other attacks (not by a long shot only verbal) of these obvious sadists or other pathologues—where such an employee will very quickly be terminated on some far-fetched or carefully-contrived excuse. And furthermore be quite thoroughly blackballed when it comes to getting another such—or perhaps any—job.
All the wars in history have in some way been fought over this determining divide: one side representing society organized around this cruel despotism, the other championing the true unity of mankind around a genuine pursuit of the common good. Although “the victors write the history books”: in which the heroes and villains of the piece are often artfully and painstakingly made to change places. Thus for instance does a Rooseveltine “gone down in infamy” Japan continue in many ways to pursue a comprehensively-humane approach in its domestic industry/economy and social services (see June issue of Le Monde Diplomatique online). A land which recognizes that “no man is an island”, and that infirmity is a standard part of the human lot: for instance at birth and just before death, and typically many times in between. An Oriental society which therefore rationally and compassionately seeks to make the human condition tolerable at those times, and even in especially-stricken persons: as for one thing we know not when our own turn might come, in some utterly-unexpected way. In tragic times when it can hardly be right to go back to primitive tribal recourse of leaving the elderly or infirm out in the color or heat to die. The sorts of treatment meted out to our own less-advantaged today in a thousand different “legal” ways. “American Dream” abominations whose near-likeness in Indian tribes a century and more ago provided us tidy excuses to virtually annihilate them in our westward drive. Uncle Sam going from these uprighteous heights to efficiently dispose of those who suffer, or who might “unfairly” trouble a gaggle of mediocre consciences, just settling down to their places at some stadium, bar or in front of the TV. Japanese who, although far from perfect—having the curse of legalized abortion just as do we—yet hardly display the standard Yankee righteous impunity: rather feverishly trying, through Shinto rituals, to wash telltale blood from their hands.
June 6, 2006: The Religion of America.
I speak much on these pages about the credo of Americans of all persuasions: a secular cult entirely foreign to that passed down from the Apostolic Age. It is a set of quasi-spiritual dogmas “updated” from time to time—much as in the celebrated ‘60s Council within the Catholic Church—in further phenomenological developments of that Enlightenment from which both took their cue. A catechesis which assumes the superiority of American social, cultural and ideological existence: in comparison with which “American Way” the millennial Christianity, let alone Catholicism, inherited from the Old World is regarded as intolerably backward and obscure.
What’s more, this act of faith in the Religion of America is especially required of every second-generation American such as I: that hereditary milestone representing an initiation ceremony in some respects as grim as any ever undergone by an aspirant to some thirty-third degree. There are so many objects, customs and traditions formerly held sacred that one must veritably stomp upon with utter contempt, as in the rites down at the Masonic lodge, with complete disregard of the eternal consequences. (In this Secret Society, if you are among those select brethren cynical-enough to be “meant for higher things”). All this “adaptation” is very nebulously classed as “assimilating into the culture of the land”: however in the case of the USA this process is light-years beyond analogous adaptations undergone, say, by Croats who took to residing in Germany or Austria from the late middle ages onward. People who, the last I heard, have kept their land-of-origin costumes for times of celebration, and both its language and customs for much of their domestic, over-the-table, day-to-day lives, for several centuries running now: often in fascinating medieval forms. And yet and indeed because of the vigorous influence of these very transplanted identity-touchstones, these German or Austrian Croats—among whose ranks have not infrequently been found men like Josef Haydn—are honored in these adopted lands for their patriotism and good-citizenship. As are indeed others of the same tongue in Mexico and Australia, Argentina and Hawaii as well. Of at least one or two of which lands Croats were among the recognized founders. No, it is only in the USA that there is no such sane, nation-co-identifying, world-peace-promoting, good-humored patriotism but rather a kind of secular religion. A grimly-mandatory worship at the altars of the domestic deities Uncle Sam, Horatio Alger, the Success Ethic, the American Dream, and a host of ancillary demigods. (Allowing people to vote in Spanish or Swahili being decidedly beside the point.) A pantheon entirely different from the rational core-values pursued in other nations, let alone those represented by the Lord’s Prayer, St. Michael, St. Joseph or St. Joan of Arc. For on these shores one has come into possession of that “promise” which is obviously considered far more sacred than either the Old or New Covenants. For this is that place where nature would raise its lowly head to perfect grace, and not the usual vice-versa. In the much-vaunted processes of which one “already has ones reward”.
But it is no doubt especially in Catholic circles—where the unprecedented capitulation of Bishop John Carroll is carefully perpetuated—that this Yankee-born-again cult-of-self-identification is mandatory. Just as in his time, in return for a “freedom of worship” which essentially restricts your practice of Catholicism to Mass-going and other ceremonials. With the stripping away of Catholic nationality custom—that which noted transplanted and conspicuously-loyal Croats display so well in other lands—to be replaced by that anomaly which wouldn’t be caught dead praying the rosary or singing an Old Country song, whose cultural recourse in such matters is invariably to “laughing at what one loves”. Even as Vatican II would finish the demolition-job the Irish-born plenipotentiary cleric undertook so long ago: in contemporary terms with a droolingly-provocative and explicit West Side Story being vaguely-but-inevitably perceived, given the eager inducements of fallen nature—by many a previously well-behaved, bookish lad—as the veritable path where the new aggiornamento duty lay. That council which opened the notorious wild window-to-the-world—which in the 60s was an entirely American universe—with a pious wink and a nod all-but-endorsing the guys and gals in the oddly-messianic musical, leaping around in tights, gathered in menacing gangs. Epitomizing and magnifying the brittle Yankee group-fed super-machismo that would so soon produce a crop of grizzly serial-killers and gang-rapists, and later Abu Ghraib. Great efforts being expended in the fabulously-promoted film to make rape in particular look attractive: surrounding this hideous gang-extorted activity in one scene with a fetching dance-routine. This burgeoning pathology being destined to turn its back seemingly forever on the humane manhood and chivalry of the genuine West (even the genuine New York West Side): old values become the butt of the new job-mandatory Carsonesque humor, religiously-recorded every night before bed-time, for handy upwardly-mobile use the next day around the workplace lunch-table. While to attempt to go beyond this exalted new secular religion, to things truly and robustly spiritual, and appreciative of women, and of others more-or-less defenseless, is still vaguely considered some sort of Lexington-bridge blasphemy: especially around the same employee break-area, or wherever good ole boy stalwarts congregate. The new morality plays and sacred symbols being the sitcoms, baseball caps, and all else which keeps the 12-year-old-minded totem-and-taboo rigidly in place. Here being a sociology found equally and with hyper-convenience and little-considered purpose in the cellblock or exercise-yard of today’s prime-growth-industry prisons. Ah, credo in unum Land of the Free.
Thus do our civics books, Hollywood, and a pope who uses the Vatican-II two-step to excommunicate John Kerry over legalized abortion advocacy, but who disdains to use the same stern methods against Catholic supporters of a pro-Israeli aggressive War unparalleled since Hitler: thus do these and other assorted elements identify something about the USA that is supposedly well-beyond Revealed Religion in the scheme-of-things. At least as long as it is thus occupied. While the fact that not only this war but all of them we waged were in one way or another unjust and underhanded: this is somehow held not to matter one whit. An indulgent assessment accorded our stuffed-ballot-box freedoms as well: mockery that they are of the genuine free-agency of the medieval Western European peasant, and even of some today on the other side of the globe whom we condescendingly blow to smithereens with our nifty laser-guided bombs.
But all pretenses aside, what really places us in this supposedly super-human position is that we have come to embody a model of the Judeo-Capitalist way-of-life. The first Jews who came here—landing penniless, the first welfare recipients, on Manhattan, when it was still in New Amsterdam—knew a good thing when they saw one—and as we can gather here and there from various contemporary writings, like those of Davy Crockett and other frontiersmen, they very quickly took their usual proprietary charge of things (copyright John E. Potter, Life of Colonel Davy Crockett. Philadelphia: Potter and Coates, 1865). For this is their way: these true originators of this Religion of America. Christ and Christianity—let alone Catholicism—have nothing to do with it, except as an attractive veneer. We are the apple-polishing teacher’s pet of world capital, and she is not going to let the rest of the world of tow-headed, frequently paddled or wrist-slapped students forget how privileged is our position in the front seat. How the post-Vatican-II anti-Vatican came to quietly endorse such a global morality over the past few decades is the darker unfolding story told on these pages. To form a sharp contrast to the brilliant light of what is imparted in a far more warm and salubrious spiritual latitude: genuine Catholic Faith, economy and organizational thought.
As for this grand figure, this Uncle Sam, what do I actually think of him? First of all, I would change his Hebrew name to Uncle Stephen, Francis, Louis or Baldwin. And then I would say that I love him as a father who is basically shy—which I refuse to redefine as a terrorist-profiling “sly and secretive”—who loves to work with his hands, who is a devoted husband to a good wife. (Contrary to NSA, CIA, news-anchor and school-counselor cautionary caveats, it is the garrulous and jocular one must watch, and who make the classical con-artists, child-molesters and traitors: not the silent, unassuming and recollected). The kind of “regular” guy or bloc, however, that in my long years I have seen everywhere from Saskatchewan to Sussex to Frascati to Hue. The real Yank, the real patriot—that near-extinct species who naughtily and irreligiously shuns the long, starched-collared services of the Religion of America—who does these universally-good things in a slightly different way.
June 6, 2006: The Marriage amendment; Bush invited to take command of the Good Ship Distributism.
I am hoping that George Bush is sincere about this final trashing of the abominable “gay wedding” phenomenon, but it has gotten impossible for me to listen to his speeches, as I associate his voice, his gestures, his whole demeanor inseparably with the lies, extortions and distortions of citizen surveillance, the war in Iraq, corporate America and his foreign and domestic policies in general. But somewhere in back of my mind dwells the notion that gangsters can sometimes turn good; and that when they do they might even go generously in that direction, just as they had done previously in a polar-opposite way. It would be so much better to see the country find its way back to godliness and social justice under this President than to have to go through the nightmare of another fringe-sodomite/lesbian Democratic one, and the gigantic abortion/medical-judicial-murder mill it would quickly put into place. Which would only signal the accelerated divine annihilation of what is now perhaps a somewhat-less-guilty ship full of mentally-emaciated Skull and Bones galley-slaves. Especially considering that these Demos are just as good at lying and war-mongering as Bush and associates. Of course, there is the alternative we offer here: a completely different kind of ship, whose riggings and accommodations are described in detail on these pages and in these publications. A ship full of good things “old and new” of which we invite the President to step onboard, even to take command.