Category Archives: Uncategorized

On commenting on the blog

In no particular order:

  • On this blog all comments by readers go into a moderation queue. I make some public. Others, like from my Internet Stalker, I do not. If you don’t want your comment made public just let me know in the comment. No worries. I’m the only one who sees it.
  • Other than that, you can’t privately respond to other commenters.
  • Willful error has no rights. If you are belligerently rejecting the teaching of the Church you lose your rights. If you threaten anything whatsoever or for any other reason I come up with, you lose your rights. So, those are not really rights, are they? No entitlements!
  • I’m a pretty reasonable guy about this and if someone likely in good faith wants to keep their comment private in whatever instance I’ll certainly try to respect that.
  • I keep a pretty tight grip on the comments because otherwise they become a cesspool of trolls. I’ve always had a really good comments box.
  • You are in my house when you comment, so, please, be civil, don’t be blasphemous, don’t threaten. Because I take this seriously 99.999% of commenters are civil and just really wonderful people.
  • It’s good to see comments, to get some feedback.
  • You can ask questions, request topics, etc. I do ask that comments, if possible, refer to the post at hand.
  • If there are comments that say nothing about the post here but only refer elsewhere those might be dealt with as spam. But maybe not.
  • Some people have difficulties communicating without using expletives and condemnations. I understand that. We live in a pretty rough world. If I see even a minimum of good will I’ll try to have a conversation with a commenter, even if it has to be in the style I’ve recently been having with my Internet Stalker guy.

By the way, the picture of the police cruiser being destroyed is not in Andrews, but rather, if I remember, in Baltimore. But attitudes do get around.


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Seen at a friend’s house

Ordination anniversary card.

And it’s still Christmas…


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Seen at the soup kitchen

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Internet stalker guy runs two steps: motus in fine velocior

duck chick walk

Just like a textbook study. It’s like this guy is an ossified manualist turning pages and checking off database indicators, still not realizing that baiting baiters can be double reversed, or is that…? But this guy is waaaay too clever for that. This is the guy who writes the manuals. ;-)

Anyway, very quickly in the last number of hours he’s dissociated himself from himself, in two steps.

  • Firstly, he has made of himself not just the speaker for people of the present time, but also for all peoples of past ages, a spirit — dare I say a holy spirit in his mind? — who is disembodied from the stalker himself, you know, an other.
  • Secondly, it is no longer he who is doing the stalking (as that would be bad), but rather it is merely a spirit, apart from himself, who is doing the stalking, a spirit, however, in whom he revels.

The first level of dissociation is not reached by many before they are tossed into prison for unspeakable crimes. He’s now gone a step beyond that.

Typical in all this is the intensity of ideology. The more he tries to claim he is “of tradition”, the more he falls into referencing cultural indicators of ephemeral merely extrinsic value. He’s lost the plot if he’s ever had it. The prouder he is of being in control of that which he mocks, the more he reveals himself as a fraud. Perhaps he begins to see his own inconsistencies and how much he’s revealed about himself. And then he becomes afraid of his own failure, afraid of his own revelation and, you guessed it, he runs away from himself. And this is what flicks the switch, when people, in such self-made dissociation, become violent.

The problem is that even those who do this for a living, that is, baiting and evaluating and writing reports, can fall into their own trap, unbeknownst to themselves, and take matters into their own hands, believing their very own baiting. Not having the plot, the reality of who we are before God, they become their own reality. It all falls apart from there.

Either we have our identity in Christ Jesus or we crunch in on ourselves. But what to do for the one who, so utterly dissociating his good image of himself from the other he has created comes to an impasse and cannot find “closure”, some sort of logical fix. Perhaps they are to absolved of any malicious intent at that stage. But, as Cardinal Ratzinger way back in his seminary days said, an erroneous conscience does not sanctify.


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Deacon’s Christmas blessing


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To the internet bully guy

  1. I don’t let your comments through the moderation queue, so, don’t worry. No one has seen them but me. I happen not to believe a word you’ve said about yourself, not your gender, not your age, not your politics, not your ecclesial persuasion, not your motive. I think you mentioned your last name, though as someone supposedly not yourself, bless you. Maybe I’m mistaken. That’s just me being evil and bad. It is what it is.
  2. I’m sure you’ve been scandalized by the hate-mongers who claim to be on the side of right, but are only those who demand that people hate as much as they do. It gives them street cred. They have many followers because of hate-cred. They have much to say that is reasonable, but the hate ruins it. There’s no reason to take up their hate and run with it. I regret that for you. You can love your enemies and pray for them. Those are, in fact, commands of Jesus. That doesn’t make anyone a sycophant of anyone. Jesus is not from hell.
  3. Take it down a notch. Despite what I said in number 1 above, there may well be people following your comments who have access to the moderation queue of this blog and have seen all of your comments. There are many, particularly in North East Virginia. For instance, the nano-second I took down a post in your regard is the nano-second in which that was post was brought up again on a screen there. There are certain things I can see in the background of the blog. I can’t do anything about interest in my blog by certain sectors of people who can do certain things with computers, and indeed, I’ve invited that to be the case many times. The reason is not you. Instead, there are people of interest who announce themselves in comments, even terrorists or those who fund them, facilitate them, particularly when I start writing things that bait them so as to bring them out of hiding. I have a knack for that, the baiting thing that is. It is what it is. If you don’t want what you write to be seen by anyone, don’t write it. But I won’t publish it for the normal populace.
  4. You can respond to all this with a comment. Don’t worry, I won’t publish it. But just know that others can see it because, well, that’s their job. And I like it. I am beholden to them for many reasons, frequently. ;-)

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German Shepherd service dog?

What could a German Shepherd do for me?

Update: I’m pretty much all better by now, still DEAD tired, but, O.K. My question still stands above. ///

Both my hands are swollen to three times normal size. Fingers don’t bend. Turning blue as blood vessels are vicegripped shut by the swelling. White blood cells can bead up on the surface of the stretched skin. Joints can feel as if they are dislocating. The swelling can get in the feet and stomach and intestines and face and throat as well. The latter case is often deadly. It’s hereditary. Ultra super rare. My mom was a Guinea pig at Bethesda Naval hospitals as my dad was Dept of the Navy, USMC. It can last for days or even a week or two. But it’s always there for a lifetime, ready to make the body explode like this. It can come without much reason like being overtired. You feel an ache or see the tiniest bit of swelling and you know exactly what’s going to happen. It’s so quick you can almost watch yourself literally explode. If it’s in the throat even if you make it to an emergency room you’ll likely die as they won’t know what it is, how quick it is, or what to do, giving you stuff like a blood transfusion or epinefrin. That’s for the acquired not the hereditary version. But you can’t explain that with a swollen throat. There’s carcinogenic medicine I take but that doesn’t stop all incidents by a long shot. I’ve been at death’s door dozens of times. Without the medicine I’d be dead almost immediately.


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What goes around comes around. Yep. Angels are surely at work. Heh heh heh


Our tiniest of all parishes, tired of using what is obviously a donated and entirely dilapidated Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion Communion “cup” for our chalice for all these decades, decided to get a more appropriate chalice for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. We did. Now we just need to get it consecrated, or, for that matter, re-consecrated.

When I was a seminarian, say, in the Summer of 1981, I walked into the “Mission Shop” next to Saint Mary’s Cathedral in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. It just happened that old Monsignor What’s His Name was there (he died soon thereafter). He immediately said: “Wait here.” He soon returned with a black box containing a chalice and paten and gave them to me. In just another couple of years, that chalice was stolen. I felt so bad, remembering well the gentlemanly generosity of the kind Monsignor.

I mean, I don’t know, but this chalice the parish just acquired seems to be the very chalice that the Monsignor had given to me more than 35 years earlier.

The angels are like that. Very cool.


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And I thought *I* was a pyromaniac

Here’s my 82nd Airborne fireman neighbor showing me how it’s done. I’ve never seen such a thing in my life. Very cool… well… HOT.

The heat generated from this reminded both of us of the story of the three young men thrown into the burning fiery furnace in the Book of Daniel.

Analogies in any which way can be drawn for the spiritual life.

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On retreat except I mean it’s just that…

This is retreat week. The priest giving us priests of the Diocese of Charlotte a retreat is Father Cameron, the Editor of Magnificat. The retreat center isn’t too far from the parish here. Just taking off now.

Part of the retreat is that the priests break up into smaller groups on Wednesday afternoon and go hiking or whatever. This year I’m chasing off with a number of the other priests to do — what else on a retreat? — some shooting at a private range. Just an hour or two, a good time. Anyway…

Please pray for us. I think I need to slow down a bit. I’m racing about way too much.


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“The Guy” sent this: Catholic Patriotic Faith in the Public Square

Perhaps someone knows who “The Guy” is. He’s someone whose example I strive to follow.


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Fairmont WV in Robbinsville NC

fbi fairmont wv criminal justice information systems

Hey! There are no criminals in Graham County, NC. Never! What’s the deal.

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Putting politically incorrect decals on Sassy the Subaru: Yikes!


Dad was commander of the USMC fighter-attack Checkerboard Squadron (312), the gull-wing Corsairs of the abandoned runway off Parris Island (Air Station of Merritt Field in Beaufort, SC). He started off in Guam with a bomber unit, but then went off to the Philippines, Japan, China and […] and — still an issue today — “North” Korea.

He spoke fondly, poetically, of the Korean people, saying that they were what the fighting was all about: they had to be liberated from the communist oppression which had impoverished them to death. For him, the robber government of the North was all about the violence of the arrogance of self-serving power, which never does anyone any good at all. I’m proud of him, and I use these stickers to talk about him and his love for the Korean people. If Kim is going to be taken out, I hope that can be done without innocent blood being shed. They’ve suffered quite enough.

The two Flying Crosses are w/o citation, meaning the missions are still classified to this day. I’m guessing that these are not in reference to the munitions trains and bridges that he took out, but rather to points elsewhere on the compass, you know, […].

Mom was Jewish, as was her mom and her grandma. I lived in Israel for some time and have gone back to visit. I’m Jewish and a Catholic priest.

All this is NOT analogous to that rubbishy COEXIST sticker. The Jews have the same faith as do Catholics. Saint Paul’s talk of a veil is significant: received, but veiled. And remember what Saint Paul (Romans 9:3-5) also says:

“…my kin according to the flesh. They are Israelites; theirs the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; theirs the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, is the Messiah. God who is over all be blessed forever. Amen.” (Rom 9:3-5 NAB)

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Graphene, my “Shadow” and you know, and homilies and technology

  • Graphene Composites Ltd “aims to have a marketable product by the end of this year [2017]. For obvious and sad reasons, this has become a top priority for us.”
  • My “Shadow” says that a neighbor returned to Irma horror with a chainsaw, and helped him out for some hours, meaning my trip down for more chainsaw work didn’t need to be so immediate. Forida-ites here in the parish (Fort Lauderdale, Orlando, Lakeland, Sarasota and points North…) told me that the highways are crazy going South as people return, and it would be better to postpone the trip for just another little while. Fine. The rest of his mess will still be there. He says there is still plenty to do then, but that’s it’s not an absolutely immediate need. Why do I put this update about my “Shadow” with the point following Graphene?
  • Back to Graphene, some law enforcement and others insist I wear some sort of ballistic vest, but how could I until the Graphene comes out? One long time cop might come with me for my day off so that we might kill some paper tomorrow with the help of some Glock Perfection. We shall see. He laughs at the FBI qualification course. Anyway, if I had the Graphene in times to come, I think I would put it to good use. There are always the repercussions from my “Shadow” to think about, along with the craziness of local riffraff. My neighbors at the hermitage want me to have a chat with the Sheriff across the mountain there about someone who insists on putting a dozen or two bullets in my direction over the past few years, you know, over my head or off to the side a bit, but still. It’s just off target, and so obviously it’s just to scare me. The problem is, I just don’t get scared.
  • I’ve been religiously recording my homilies. That hasn’t been working out too well. Either because I forget to put the flash card back in, or because, many times, the old batteries I’ve been trying to use don’t make it through the homily. Not that the homily is that long! They are ten and fifteen year old rechargeables. After today’s failure again I decided to bit the bullet and get new batteries. My heart sank again and again when I saw the little screen on the recorder go blank right at the start, or not even finished with the Gospel. I think I have it figured out now though. Sorry.


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Charlene’s birthday. Not a day over 39.

Charlene Duline’s birthday was Sunday, August 13. I hear it said that today she’s working on the first full day of her 39th year around the sun. Of course, back in the day, that would have made her the youngest ever diplomat for the State Department. I’m always more amazed.


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When going dark turns on the switch

ford ranger

A blue Ford Wildtrack pk 4×4.

barney fife

This is just one of those boring for-the-record posts which are inside jokes with just a few. Sorry about that. Here’s a hint for the inside-joke crowd: when you’re out in the field and you’ve been depending too much on technology, there’s little “muscle memory” left for actual life situations.

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And another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust

house demolition

Sometimes things become so toxic that they just have to be removed. This one is catar-cornered from the church.

house demolition2

Happy to see it gone. There are others. A town can get a grant for 75% of the costs. The trick, of course, is not to let them descend into chemical waste dumps in the first place.

One of our past sheriffs (from the remote past relatively speaking) said that you can’t shut something down unless there is no market for it. Yes. That would be right. And that’s where Jesus comes in.

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Lourdes grotto

That was made in Lourdes, France, but I’m in Hanceville, Alabama, at the Lourdes grotto not far from the Barn. Hey! There’s bandwidth! So, I wish that this were the statue in France…

The last days have been going very well. The meeting yesterday couldn’t have gone better. I have much for which to be thankful including a resolution about the popular version of the thesis. That was inspired by Pope JPII.


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Mothers Day – Latinos vs Anglos? Cats…

dia de las madres

Last night after the vigil Mass, the Latinos got together in the social hall and had a bite to eat. Chicken, pork chops, steak, rice, beans, guacamole (hot), chips, and, of course, cake. There was music and singing and laughter. I really enjoyed the steak in honor of my own mom. She died way back in 1994, a year after my dad…

There won’t be any get together in the social hall after the 11:00 AM (mostly “Anglo”) Mass today, as there usually is almost without fail. The cancellation came about because it was decided that since it was a special day, people would eat at home. I’m all for moms getting breakfast in bed and not having to cook the rest of the day (that sounds sexist doesn’t it? I mean, some men can really cook up a storm, right?). When I was a kid, we would always go out to eat “brunch” after Sunday Mass, which was always the sine qua non of any Sunday.

Actually, this Latino vs Anglo style isn’t really a cultural division though it seems like it. Most of the Latinos are here already, or, if not, they are not going to do any cross-border travelling on Mothers Day, maybe for Christmas and Easter, maybe for a funeral or wedding, but not Mothers Day. Meanwhile, the “Anglos” do travel, but not away, never away on this day. Instead, this is the destination. Mothers don’t travel on Mothers Day, the kids do. The moms retired here in WNC with their spouses, and so the kids come here. It just turns out given our limitations on our little campus that people like to break out into their families instead of attempting to stay all together. But at a glace, it looks like a real cultural division: huge party for the Latinos, all in private for the Anglos. But that’s just not true.

I do think, however, of the widows whose kids can’t come (or simply don’t). The Latinos might have something that provides for that circumstance. That’s worth taking a look at.

Just thinking about this…. I wonder if there is a Cats in the Cradle about moms. Is there?


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The HOGs of the parish. It’s a thing.


One of our LEOs stopped in at the rectory last night with his special edition HOG. Only LEOs are issued the Peace Officer tank plate. He earned it with 25 years on duty. Another new parishioner is joining us after Easter. He’s already toured down from Ohio three times on his HOG. And there’s another. And more. It’s a thing, whatever that is. I doubt if I’ll ever get on a two-wheeler again. But… but… Jenny’s made it up the rectory. Not that she’s a HOG. Much better, she’s a donkey, just with four wheels.

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