This is a police tribute that forces me to recall advice given to me by one of our best CIA operatives:
- “Do NOT hold up anyone, putting them on a pedestal impossibly beyond your reach. Instead, just strive to live their example.”
This is a police tribute that forces me to recall advice given to me by one of our best CIA operatives:
Jesus is the One. He’s the only One.
Humble thanks go to our Police Department, our Chief of Police Michael Hobgood (who, with his words about why we need a chaplain, sets the bar very high indeed), our Mayor James Reid (and his very kind words), and all of our hard working Aldermen. It is a vote of confidence that demands that I strive to live up to expectations. I will do my best.
Some points touched on by the Chief:
Might one think that the video above is a bit too dramatic, the music too adrenaline pushing, somehow glorifying violence (though it’s not; it’s just reality), somehow capitalizing on the adrenaline rush that can come along – going from zero to a hundred in one second in any number of mundane situations such as traffic stops, domestics?
If you think so, erroneously, then do have a listen to “Mike the Cop”, who was inspired to be a cop by his brother, who went into law enforcement before him, and who was shot and killed in the line of duty. Mike rounds out the perspective that you might have not seen above as you’re not in it. But here’s the way it really, really is. I agree with everything Mike says here:
More on the journey of establishing a Police Chaplaincy where there was none before will follow on this blog. That will include commentary on aspects of what a law enforcement chaplain gets himself into.
For now, again, thanks to Chief Hobgood, the guys in the Department, to our Mayor James Reid and all our Aldermen.
People put forward all sorts of “nice” arguments in favor of priestly celibacy, economic, logistical, practical, in favor of availability for anything and everything from missionary work to being moved from parish to parish and so on. I don’t buy any of those arguments. All of those could be overcome in one way or another. Putting priestly celibacy on the level of expedience is the fastest way to get rid of celibacy altogether, as these are all disciplinary. The debate – dialogue if you want – would be unending.
Forget all that rubbish! Let’s talk about doctrine. Let’s talk JESUS. He’s never mentioned in this except for things like – and this is truly stupid – “Jesus was celibate.” Yeah, well, He’s a special case isn’t He? So, drop that dumb argument as well. Along the same lines, forget the bit about the Apostles not being married. They were in special circumstances as well.
On the other side, with Peter being married (remember the mother-in-law having the fever account?), that doesn’t hold either, as it seems from what we can surmise from Matthew 19:12 (I’ll get to that) and Paul’s letter to Titus, Peter surely became celibate. Not only would Peter be following up on Matthew 19:12, but he would be in line with this continuing tradition as spoken of later by Saint Paul, the the clergy are to be married but once, that is, to the Church. It would be insanity to say that “married only once” only refers to not being divorced and remarried, or to polygamy that they did not practice at that time. So, again:
Let’s speak of Jesus:
Having said all that, let’s mention a few hateful assertions:
Having said all that, what does Jesus want?
By the way, just to say, if priests would only be who they are supposed to be in being fathers of their parish families, knowing they are married to the Church, encouraging people to go to Confession and doing the same himself, providing for them what Christ Jesus and the Church have always wanted to be provided with Truth and Morality (the splendor of the Truth), there would never have been such an abuse crisis, or financial corruption, or seeking after “power”, or whatever other self-centered rubbish fallen human beings can come up with.
But I’ll tell you this, no liberal jerky-boy Bishop wants to speak of Jesus when it comes to priestly celibacy as that would destroy every bit of liberal agenda they have on any given topic. Destroy priestly celibacy, destroy the Church (as everything about the Sacrifice of Jesus will be ignored. We will have no understanding of marriage, or the redemption of the image of God. Nothing.
And don’t think that procrastination in dealing with already married Anglican clergy or the practice of some in the “Orthodox” churches is that which bears doctrine. It doesn’t.
That cute comment coming from a lady who once lived in these WNC mountains actually sidesteps the question as to whether one is with him or against him. But that’s not actually the question either.
This isn’t a matter of being for against someone, or whether they are cute or not, as Saint Paul says (Ephesians 6:12):
The question comes down to whether or not we prayer for the Successor of Saint Peter as both Jesus and His good mom prayed for Peter. Praying for someone doesn’t mean we agree with any word or action, just that they follow the will of God. Everything is right about that.
If we don’t pray for him, I would make brave to say that all our judgments for or against are about as relevant as to whether someone thinks the Pope is cute. Having said that, I think my one-time parishioner is cute in saying Pope Francis is cute.
Also, to be “WITH” Pope Francis shouldn’t be a matter of being sycophants, parrots of whatever he says and does, as if he were a commandant of puppets, robots, cogs of a Promethean machine.
Just because someone offers a critique of this or that writing, this or that “document,” this or that action, does not mean that one is “AGAINST” Pope Francis. That would be absurd bullying. Pope Francis says he doesn’t want “Yes men.” So let me oblige in whatever helpful way I can.
It does seem, however, that there is a culture (to abuse that term) of those who are self-appointed bullies of all those who are not mini-versions of Pope Francis, thinking that they are currying favor with him by smashing down those who they think are his enemies. How very sad. It’s very much the dialectical materialism I’ve personally witnessed in many countries right around the world.
Jesus is the one who is neglected by these princes of the Church, just as Jesus was abandoned by the Apostles as He hung on the Cross. Outside of a handful such as Sarah or Burke et al., NO ONE but NO ONE speaks a word about Jesus.
Sinner that I am, I’m with Jesus, and with God’s grace, I will not leave His side.
The question isn’t about being with or against Pope Francis. That’s stupid. The question is about whether or not we are with Jesus, and are willing to be crucified with Him so as to give witness to many, so as to bring many souls to heaven… for eternity…
Being at the hermitage for the last time yesterday, grabbing some last minute items such as buckets and a special “stations of the cross” brought lots of memories, lots of nostalgia.
The tree above rises some 140 feet from the top of the ridge right next to the hermitage. The base is something like 12 feet around. I realize the little red flower isn’t a flower, but that’s all there was. I think my guardian angel pointed it out to me.
Here are those stations of the cross, and yes, those are thorns:
And then I recall, next to another hermitage-cave:
I am very grateful to our dear Lord for my time in the hermitage. My whole time was having the privilege of giving flowers to Jesus’ good mom. Again, my favorite, on the path up to the hermitage, destroyed later by – I think – the person who also, on multiple occasions, was throwing out deer rifle rounds in my direction, perhaps a dozen each time. But our Lady remembers them:
After doing the usual thing of providing the sacraments across Western North Carolina with hundreds of miles put on Sassy the Subaru, I arrived at the hermitage, where there was blinding fog. That’s the way it was, 24/7 non-stop, for months on end, when I first arrived years previous. The area is classified officially as a rain forest, having, in fact, twice the average rain fall as a rain forest.
I handed the key over. Apparently, a buyer has appeared and wants the key, entirely enthralled with the hermitage. So, I gave over the key:
Of course, this means no gun range either. I dismantled the bits and pieces I had there. This was was already gone:
That one above, starting with the far bucket: ABCBA low ready three seconds. The one below is to be shot in half. This is with 9mm FMJ which goes right through without snapping it, meaning it takes quite a few hits in the same spot to get it done, with each hit keeping the movement going. This is 1″ x 1″ by three feet.
All things you can’t do at a National Forest range or even LEO range. All gone. Now where am I going to get some firearms recreation?
I had to say goodbye to “The Barn” that was a home for this Donkey-Priest until I got the hermitage built enough to keep out some weather:
The window space had been set up as a gorgeous ad orientem altar. I used to sleep on the floor behind where you see the live trap for the raccoons and the mason jar boxes. I’m a bit rough and tumble. I got a picture also of a bit of yellow-jacket nest, as that brings back memories of just how bad they were, a plague really. Within some weeks that year, I killed some 135 queen yellow-jackets (which represents untold numbers of furiously stinging workers). It was the Violin Spiders I didn’t like. I was bit some 25 times through the years but had an ingenious way (thanks to the neighbor) to get rid of the poison and heal the rotting wound before any amputations had to be done.
None of that put me off in the least. I told Jesus I wanted to be a hermit for a while so as to write about His good mom. He arranged everything within hours. I did write on Jesus’ good mom. I’m very happy with that result. But that doesn’t mean Jesus was going to make it easy. I’m sure, though, that He directed my guardian angel to make the extra effort so that I wouldn’t actually get killed despite for all the dangers I would encounter in building the hermitage, in getting shot at, in somersaulting down little cliffs with a running chain saw in hand, on and on. The memories.
I collected a bunch of rocks from the path up to the hermitage so as to make a little grotto for our Lady, kind of a reminder of my time in Lourdes, but also as a reminder of where I had been going at the time, to become a chaplain at the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, also teaching at the Franciscanum in the Old City, and then heading up their pilgrimage site on Mount Nebo in Jordan way above the far side of the Dead Sea. The bishop told me to make the hermitage my Holy Sepulcher to pray for priests. Great memories, all.
After all was said and done, and the very second I got back to the rectory, texting messages started to make my phone sing. It was late in the evening, and the town board was in the midst of conducting a closed meeting with yours truly being on the agenda. A unanimous decision was made about the fate of this donkey priest in time to come. I am humbled. More on that later.
All this happened January 14, 2020, the long standing Feast of Jackasses. I like that a lot. More on that later.
Yep. Sorry. I guess I’m uncharitable. I laughed out loud when I heard the pencil neck comment. It was the intonation. And then it got worse, or… better. Hahaha. Sorry. Having said all that:
Meanwhile, there are those who send me bits and pieces from SNL. I’ve never in my life ever found anything on SNL funny, just terribly sad. They all seem depressed, desperate, lost, expert in all that which is truly evil and bad and therefore deathly boring. That has always been my opinion, since it came on the air until now.
Meanwhile, anyone plying any sexual innuendo trying to be comical I also surmise to be depressed, desperate, lost, expert in all that which is truly evil and bad and therefore deathly boring.
It’s not that I’m virtuous, mind you. No. Not at all. But, as a priest, I do come across situations which are truly evil – straight out of hell – and those almost always involve abuse of the sex, and abuse of others, including minors by way of sex. I see the destruction of lives. Not good. Really evil.
More than that, personally, I’ve already written about how I was unwittingly made into the kiddie-porn star when I was a little kid. So, no, I don’t find that kind of thing humorous. Even if people are way the other way, so that they are so jaded by the horror of the aggression of the world in these matters that they make a joke so as to be sarcastic with the stupid ways of the world, still, even then, it is better to concentrate on the things that are above, not on those below.
What is better than all mere levity is true humor, which necessitates a sense of irony before the Sacred Mysteries: God would use the likes of us specifically in our fallen human nature to evangelize His goodness and His truth, His kindness and His truth, His respect for others and His truth. Did I say truth? Did I mention how it’s ironic to us because of our fallen human nature that we find it odd that justice and mercy are but one in God? When we get a hold of this even just a little bit in our lives it is an occasion for great joy in the Holy Spirit. This joy is seen in this great smile of Hilaire Belloc:
The humor that he’s smiling about so enthusiastically is this bit he wrote about irony, specifically Christian Irony. When you read this – as some of you have done many times – remember to keep Jesus and Him crucified front and center, or else you won’t understand in the least what Hilaire is saying.
[Deadpan statement:] So, you might say, Hilaire Belloc is hilarious.
[Then: wait for it…]
It’s 14 January 2020 and so far 35.6 pounds have disappeared since November 21.
That’s 0.56 lbs lost per day average.
I started well-into the BMI category of “obese”, as you might expect for someone nicknaming himself Jabba the Hut. But already since December 27 the BMI has dropped into the “overweight” category. My aim is drop down into the top of what is considered a “healthy weight” range. That will still take another 50 days or so, to about 198 lbs.
BENEFIT #1: I’m being further enabled in being available for my duties of being a spiritual father of this parish family.
You have to know, the remoteness of this Appalachian parish means that this is a medical desert so that our local hospital (some 15 miles away) has started to become a mere helipad for being airlifted all the way to Erlanger-Barroness Hospital on the far upper West side of Chattanooga in neighboring West Tennessee.
Driving, that’s about 5 hours round trip rectory door to Surgical-ICU room door. Previously, I would seriously hesitate to start out at 6:30 PM on a dark January night after having been going all day since 2:50 AM what with multiple Holy Hours at the various parish churches, the Sunday Masses, the two socials, the nursing home, and lots of visits to the home-bound. But with the Keto diet – Hey! – I can happily do it. Truly more energy.
I was totally alert even if a bit tired – a good tired – by the time I pulled into the rectory driveway toward midnight. For me, that’s a great result. This alertness also made negotiating the zillion hairpin turns along the Ocoee Ranger District of Cherokee National Forest along the gorge-reservoir of West Tennessee – coming and going – a true joy and even a musical event, making the tires of Sassy the Subaru ♬ Sing ♬.
Maybe I shouldn’t admit that out loud… Too many law enforcement officers listening in…
;-) Keto allows me to have more fun. ;-)
BENEFIT #2: Keto has allowed me to make some friendships. Conversations are struck up with people I’ve never spoken to before but who see me round about town and notice the rather dramatic weight loss and want in on the action. I end up sending them links:
I also mention some dangers for diabetics and for those who don’t drink enough fluids.
The most recent of these events was last night. This was with the most unexpected person in town. I like that. I like that a lot.
BENEFIT #3: My own personal usage of the Keto diet is to jump start healthiness, for which I have a plan:
BENEFIT #4: Getting squared away. You need mental clarity and energy to get squared away – all things in order – and Keto has provided both, so that I’m starting to do things that I haven’t done for very many years. This is NOT a matter of being determined. It just happened. Keto is providing great attitudinal benefits. This Keto diet has really changed life for the better for me in every way. I’ve been begging the Lord for the wherewithal to do many things, and I think this is partially His answer. Getting squared away sets up a foundational psychological structure. I like it. I like it a lot. And it just happens.
BENEFIT #5: Changing out the Jabba the Hut picture for a Guard-Donkey (Palestinian, of course, as they are called, with all due respect for George Alexander Trebek[!]). All priests should be Guard Donkeys of their sheep, Jesus’ tiny flock.
THE ONLY DRAWBACK OF THE KETO DIET: I mentioned to a parishioner this past Sunday that there was a drawback to the Keto diet. “What’s that?” she asked. “Well, I’m starting to have to get smaller sized clothes,” said I.
♬♬♬ “Oh! You pooooor baaaaaaby!” ♬♬♬ she exclaimed.
The video above, and a screen shot of the rules below:
This guy makes a lot of sense. Lot’s of good points.
You’ll have this confirmed – it will really sink home – if you then take a gander at a frame by frame analysis of the Texas church shooting:
The purpose of this drill is to weed out those who volunteer for the security team and are willing and they think able in every way to provide a nuance to taking out the threat of an active shooter critical incident. Some think they are competent because they own a gun and on occasion carry a gun. That ain’t how it works. It is a perishable skill.
Yes, Shadow-dog does get hosed off. He likes that as much as getting muddy. He likes to bait Laudie-dog into playing, and she shows him who’s really boss, boxing his ears with both front paws at the same time, though not baring her ferocious fangs for a second. They really are best friends. She’s just cleaner, and wants to stay that way.
In an effort to change out mud holes, I restricted Shadow dog to being closer in to the house, as there is still an old fence to use. But his hopping from side to side in front of that fence when making his usual commentary on passing events has made for some embankments. As I kid, when I did that for downhill skiing up in the North Woods: moguls. I got good at it, enough to get little impromptu audiences. But maybe they were just waiting for the crazy-insane-kid to be out of the way.
The anomalous all-black GSDs have a slightly different genetic structure, closer, I would guess, to wolfdom. They have what some call a straight back instead of the back sloping down from shoulders to tail. But Shadow-dog’s back actually is higher. The speed factor is amazing.
He can go from the not-lying-down-but-actually-crouching-attack-position – closely eyeing a potential enemy who needs to be vetted out – to full speed racing as a test-attack to see the reaction of the would-be enemy, the ol’ going straight from zero to a hundred thing in bare nanoseconds. I like that. A lot. Even if the enemy is a squirrel, a cat, the neighbor’s therapy pony or the next-door neighbor’s dog. Sometimes, though, it’s a possibly nefarious human who instantly understands the instruction not to come over the fence to do up a home invasion. To see the speed, I only need to open the side gate to let him go in the bigger back yard.
Laudie-dog is much calmer. But she knows that she doesn’t need to prove herself to me. She’s already saved me so very many times from monsters: bears and lynx and coyotes and snakes and red wolves and now grey wolves, and even a panther. That last one was a fright.
I mean, if you can add to the list, or defend cats (which I would be interested in seeing), drop a comment. Let me put it this way, although dogs and cats are equally God’s good creatures, my fallen human nature says:
Dogs are better than cats. Change my mind.
There were both dogs and cats around the house when I was a kid. I have dogs now, but no cats. Am I therefore wrong to even voice an opinion? Do I need to get a cat to be able to legitimately express my inner creation commentary?
If I were to get a cat, it would have to be black (to match priest-clothes), have short hair, not shed, be content with dry cat food, not scratch-attack, purr really really really a lot, and loudly, get along with both Shadow-dog and Laudie-dog without scratching their eyes out, and otherwise not be “catty”… or is that something cats absolutely have to be?
Finally, I know, I know: there are anomalies…
The grommets busted on the flag. That’s kind of a symbol of the present state of these USA regarding our respect for life, given the present permissive “laws” regarding abortion.
The Knights of Columbus got a new rope and grommets forthwith. That’s kind of a symbol of the hope we have that those present permissive “laws” will be reversed coming up soon.
They put out one cross for each of the million babies murdered with acid attacks, ripped limb from limb, or effectively decapitated during birth.
There’s presently a case on the docket for the Supreme Court that might reverse at least in good measure the contrived case of January 22, 1973, by which seven of the nine justices decided to legislate from the bench so as to pretend that all this violence was legitimate in the Constitution because of their truly perverted perception of a right to privacy which, at any rate, the government does not respect in the least except for a person’s “right” – they say – to privacy when murdering someone else.
Even SCOTUS decisions can be overturned. Many have been overturned, thank God. Pray that the Justices follow justice, both in Natural Law and as that is reflected, in fact, in the Constitution of these United States of America.
We now have incomparably the most pro-life President in the history of these USA.
Please God we will get a reprieve in the extreme downward spiral we have suffered since the Constitution of this Constitutional Republic has been rejected as a rule of law with the R vs W case 47 years ago.
The Demoncrats are intent on the “power” they think they have by way of the murder of the innocent. They are freakish cowards wading through the rivers of blood and body parts of those they ensure to this day are killed off.
By the way, their support for abortion is, in fact, racist, consistent with the entire history of the Democrat Party. They fought for slavery. Now they fight to make sure the abortions they want funded are for black and indigenous peoples: genocide by attrition.
Oh my! What building is this, and where? A word to the wise. Mail Fraud is a Federal Crime in these USA along the lines of RICO, with jurisdiction claimed by the Feds if there’s anything interstate or international. We do have an extradition agreement with the very friendly country from where this activity originates. Let’s take a quick gander at 18 USC § 1341:
On face value, a certain person in another country has done this with me multiple times over the last number of years, and is insisting on continuing this activity in future regardless of my vociferous rejections. Amounts have escalated.
Without wanting at all to cash anything, I had the last volley of a financial instrument investigated internationally. There is no such account number anywhere for anything.
This parish, Holy Redeemer in Andrews, NC, has a work-Confessional. No brooms, vacuum cleaners, zambonis or what not in our Confessional, converting it into a janitor’s closet. No, no. The clean-up here is for the soul, and is done with the abrasive force of none other than the Blood of Christ Jesus.
There’s more work to be done, like framed acts of contrition in various language to be added to the penitent side just to either side of the screen, and framed absolutions in various rites and languages on the priest side. Also, I’d like to move the crucifix and two oval pictures of Jesus and Mary alongside the door where it’s easier for the priest to see them. Then some kind of CD player for chant to be played softly as a noise muffler. Usually, there’s tons of prayers going on outside in the church, a rather raucous rosary (I like that) or an enthusiastic part of the Liturgy of the Hours. (I like that a lot).
More things to be added in future. But the huge consolation with all this… is that this is a working-Confessional. The heaviest use is during early morning adoration of the Most Blessed Sacrament. Of course.
Sometimes people will comment that there is sometimes some piercing insight on this blog. A priest friend made this comment the other day. He’s very clever. And kryptic.
You have to know that many of the more brilliant minds have made it clear that they are sick and tired of “insight” and “the latest thing” and “being up to date”. It’s all too much. Too tiresome. Breathless. And therefore boring.
But this priest friend is so very kryptic that I knew he had something more in mind. Rumination on his “piercing insight” comment was the order of the day. It struck me early on that he was speaking of the insight, quite literally, if you will, that the soldier on Calvary had in looking into the side of Jesus – to the Heart of our Lord – that he had just then pierced open with a wound large enough for – say – Thomas the doubter to place his hand into.
That soldier on Calvary – with this piercing insight, if you will – then immediately exclaimed: Truly this Man was the Son of God.
My own piercing insight, if I have any whatsoever, is that my sin has pierced Him through, you know, like the Roman soldier, just to make sure that He’s dead.
We read in the Apocalypse 1:7 –
Have mercy, Lord, have mercy.
Controversy: *Cheat days* or *Splurge days* on Keto. What a fright. I guess it depends how it’s done. Priests have an especially difficult time doing up Keto as parish socials wreck havoc on good intentions, with everyone trying their best to *be nice to our priest*. Having made Keto a thing, however, most have learned that I’m stickin’ to it and most respect my wishes to be more charitable by staying alive by taking care of myself rather than being “nice” because I eat everything and more that everyone prepares for the socials.
Keto – being tailor designed for apparently obsessive compulsive but actually incredible results driven continuation – has provided a great excuse to keep the *Be a failure at your diet!” crowd, and the *It’s good to cheat!* crowd at bay.
The other day was an anniversary for me – 38 years of priesthood – and a 25 year deputy, knowing I do like steak and knowing it is Keto friendly (he having done the research on all ingredients in secret sauce and spices and extras), secretly brought a charcoal grill to the church campus, hiding it behind the social hall. He disappeared during the homily to get it fired up and super heated and threw on two nine ounce steaks.
What could I do? It is Keto friendly. I’m soooo weak. They were devoured forthwith. A wonderful gift.*
Those sumptuous steaks gave me some overages for the day:
Since my carbs for the day’s planned menu were only 9.56 I thought I would kind of be alright it I just stopped eating for the day and the next couple of days.
But this morning – on the scale – I find out that Ketosis truly is very powerful. Regardless of the overages, I still lost 2 ounces by the next day. That‘s encouraging. Truly a results driven continuation.
I’ve now lost more than 30 pounds. Sometimes it’s two steps down and one step up and repeat, but this is -0.63 pounds per day average.
PS: the gag hat is from a 90 year old ninja lady who leads the Rosary before Sunday Mass.
This video and note was sent in by a priest friend:
Thank you, dearest Father. Likewise. I like the “>” symbol with the nuanced lettering. How kryptic. ;-)
Of course, the only way to conquer Satan is to “stand one’s ground” as did Christ our God, ever so intransigently… on the Cross, being killed off for us, conquering death, rising from the dead and bringing us to life. Running does nothing. But, yes, that’s me all over the place: Run, George! Run!
As the good Father points out with Rev. 5:5, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah being greater than > the demonic lion of 1 Pt. 5:8, our dear Lord will make it a project of His to kill off His priests, so to speak, as it were, so that, dead to ourselves we might live only for Him (see 2 Corinthians 5:15). The Lion and the lion look ever so much the same, but Christ Jesus, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, with all his scars and dripping from blood from the battle on Calvary, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, the Prince of the Most Profound Peace is the last one standing. He will come to judge the living and the dead and world by fire. We avoid judgment by just letting ourselves be dead to this world so as to live for Him in this world and the next. Amen.
28 years ago, yours truly, January 4, 1992, ordination to the priesthood of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, in a tiny oratory in a town so small that it lost its postal code. Birds singing outside just for those minutes of the actual sacramental ordination and the laying on of hands were almost deafening, as many people remarked at the reception. The other thing people commented on who could see from the oratory choir stalls was that at the formulaic words about the Holy Spirit there couldn’t possibly have been a bigger smile on my face: Jesus has chosen a donkey, crippled and blind and inept on so many levels, a donkey scorned as less than useless, a donkey whom the Lord Himself chose to ride into Jerusalem for His crucifixion, a donkey whose sin also set the occasion by which the Eternal Word now Incarnate of the Father has chosen to stand in our place, the Innocent for the guilty. I would – on my own, without His grace – have chosen hell.
Two moments of pause come to mind from Padre Pio’s life, both of them regarding the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the Last Supper and Calvary:
Some people are mystified by my favorite animal being a donkey. There are a thousand reasons, all of them better than the other. It started when I won a Palestinian Donkey in a parish raffle at the parish picnic just hours before went off to the seminary for my very first day of formation. Anyway, I think all priests should be guard donkeys:
When you shoot a hard drive in actually only takes one bullet to put it to death. The disk is literally turned into the finest metallic powder that wafts up in a cloud from the remains of the hard drive casing, all in sparkling micro-particulates floating in the air reflecting any sunshine in 10,000 various colors. :-) The hard drives above belong to a number of people who trust that I can take care of data protection for them, as it were, so to speak. I think I have too much fun. Liberals like Hillary have no fun at all.