Flowers for the Immaculate Conception (No need to paint her edition)

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I think the statue was donated and put in the flower patch. No need for paint. This is at the neighbor’s house next to the hermitage on the “day-off”. Sorry it’s all out of focus. It was really very late in the evening. Almost no light.

All the Jews I’ve met in my life until 1990 were Ashkenazi or Sephardic, and so – how to say – white people. When I went to live in Israel and study in the West Bank, I met really a lot of Jews from elsewhere, like, say, Yemen. Dark, dark, dark skinned. Totally cool, thought I in seeing a Yemini woman. This is what Mary, Jesus’ good mom, must have looked like. Wow, thought I, smiling from ear to ear.

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Iran baiting a preemptive strike? It’s like baiting police to write tickets.

This Iranian smooth-talker tough guy is talking his country into pre-emptive strikes on all nuclear facilities, even suspected, everywhere in Iran, no matter where they are located with human shields or whatever. This is Iran’s response to Netanyahu’s intelligence victory over Iran.

This recalls what you should never do when you’re caught out. We can all do this. It’s all at the level of Psych 101 in Junior High School. Lots of “grownups” seem to have missed out on that course.

The next time you want to feel entitled not to take care of what you must fix, don’t try to get out of it with simple emotional aggression especially when those catching you out have you dead cold. It’s the kind of thing we would all terribly regret doing ten minutes later.

Iran is a world powerhouse of architectural and historical culture. But now they are reduced to tantrums. I bet they are regretting all this just like this girl must be. I’m guessing she’s really a nice person but is just suffering one of the worst days of her life thus far:

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I’m not any kind of angel

This is where I’m signed in today, because I’m not any kind of angel. This mortal coil is one day to be shed.

“Remember him—before the silver cord is severed, or the golden bowl is broken; before the pitcher is shattered at the spring, or the wheel broken at the well, and the dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.” Ecclesiastes 12:6-7

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Flowers for the Immaculate Conception (Saint Mary’s in Sylva edition)

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Lonicera sempervirens “magnifica” or trumpet honeysuckle. I stopped by to see the great young priest and a new friend at that parish. Watching over our conversation was, of course, the Immaculate Conception. Does your parish or the front of your house have a little shrine to the Immaculate Conception?

I remember making one such shrine, a simple little shrine, unobtrusive, only for it to be knocked down by neighborhood hooligans in a place far from here. I guess for some, Jesus’ good mom, whom the Divine Son of God loves so very much, is to be despised. But that isn’t right. I really doubt such cowards would try do that to her face. I know her Son wouldn’t tolerate it. Much better to honor her as does her dear Son.

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Homily 2018 05 02 Wish for whatever

genie

Jesus to us: “Ask for whatever you want…”

Genie to us: “Ask for whatever you want…”

But how things work out is different…

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Day Off: CIA, Glock, missiles, dragons

DUMPSTER DIVING

The day started extra early, chasing about doing errands. I ended up at the soup kitchen for lunch – having once been dumpster master there – having a great discussion about, what else, the CIA, with the rather special volunteers. There’s some… heritage… we’ll call it, of incisive military telecommunications among them. Because things are never as they seem, right?

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Then it was off to test out the Glock. I hadn’t had any practice since the trip NOT to “Smeerna” but rather to “Smurna” (Smyrna!). Better this time on the FAM course with a passing 90% though one shot was overtime by 0.15 hundredths of seconds (otherwise well under the clock), but worse on the FBI course with a score somewhere in the 70s. I ain’t good at the long shots. Mind you, that’s all with targets 7.4 times smaller than regulation.

I narrowed down some of the problems of the Glock to a faulty mag. However, even with a new guide rod / double spring combo, the slide would still not lock back on an empty mag except once out of very many times. The only way is to count rounds fired. Not easy with adrenaline pumping in a critical incident. At least it fired.

No more Winchesters, which now I’m guessing are out-cycled military ammo that’s really, really old. Now it’s Federal Brass FMJ. I noted that if I hit the loop wire holding up the little dessert plate target, the Winchesters would only bend them; the Federals mostly cut them right in half, I’m guessing with more brass over the tip.

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Then I took off from the hermitage to be back on my way to the parish. Meanwhile, on the way, I was taken aside to be given some fake news, you know, about our missile readiness, because, you know, that’s a normal conversation for me to have on a day off in the middle of absolutely nowhere, with cell tower dead zones many dozens of miles long. Of course, maybe that would be the ideal place to have such conversations. Anyway, this is sourced from the horse’s mouth, someone I’m sure some of you have encountered on the road. He’s the knucklehead with military tags who races from silo to silo, site to site, to do some “testing,” but going rather fast on the road, well into triple digits when he can. No law enforcement is going to stop him, not with those tags. I won’t repeat what he obviously wants repeated, which I’m sure is purposed misinformation. Otherwise, it would be among the highest classified military secrets we have. And he wouldn’t want to reveal any of that, would he? Sorry, my friend from NAS Pax.

keep calm and slay dragons

This is a topic which has of a sudden come to the fore…

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Ready to harvest: Asparagus!

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These were just 4″ high yesterday morning. 8″ this morning. Wow. 4″ a day. You don’t want them to go beyond 8″ though, as they get woody. There were more but I’ll wait until tomorrow to harvest them. Gardens amaze me. Really tasty.

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Top Gun: The Rest of the Story

Live and learn, right? But maybe it’s taken all these years to learn a lesson about military funding. Trump’s got it right. Here’s why:

At the end of any war there is a push by politicians who have no military background to cut military funding down to just about nothing, as if no other war would ever take place.

What happens is that training goes to hell and no one knows how to do anything anymore. No more tactics. No more talent. An entirely vulnerable nation. But it’s like clockwork. Politicians play on the heresy of false optimism, that we’ve saved ourselves because we played out some fearfully effective strikes in the last war, yesterday. So, now it’s all good. We don’t need funding. Let’s spend money on pork projects for my constituents. Then, for just a few individuals, literally, the entire nation is put at risk.

After WW2, and then, “after” the Korean conflict (which Trump will hopefully now bring to an effective and formal close), back in the 1950s, pretty much the entire budget for pilot training was slashed to nothing, that is, just when the first jets were coming out.

My dad, commander of the famed Checkerboard fighter attack squadron out of the Marine Corps Air Station (Merritt Field) of Beaufort, SC, just up from Parris Island, came back from his ten years in the South and then North Pacific Corsair flying (VMFA-312) so as to teach the guys how to fly at Andrews just South of D.C. while he was put through JAG school at Georgetown University. After this, he went to Chicago to continue to teach a new generation of fighter pilots.

But that’s when the funding was cut. He knew how to fly by instinct and could handle the new jets, but his students couldn’t learn the instinct because there was no funding except for just a practice flight here, maybe again later, there. Nothing really. They had to think about flying the planes. Not good enough. They flew the planes literally straight into the ground.

My dad complained ferociously about the need for more funding for more flights. Denied. Again and again. More deaths of the best of the best.

And that was it for him. He wasn’t going to kill off an entire generation of pilots just because some self-congratulatory politicians thought they could please a few pork recipients.

So, dad took a cut in rank, left the Department of the Navy, moved to Minnesota to be a civil lawyer and politician himself, meanwhile joining the National Guard for something like another 20 years. But his heart was still with flying for the USMC. He would often bring me to airfields, and sometimes was able to commandeer a fighter to buzz over the rooftops of our local city where he was mayor. Why? Because his heart was still with the guys who were flying their planes straight into the ground because there was no funding for pilot training in the hippie days of the early-mid 1960s. Guys thought they could fly. They knew nothing. They were taken out with great ease by the enemy. We had now lost everything. Tactics. The whole lot. Gone.

Finally, with enough dead, people woke up. Top Gun school was created. Now, looking back, we all wish the Top Gun of Top Guns would have been heard. But at the time, all that could be heard was the ♬ kaching ♬ of greed. I, for one, am happy for the renewed military spending, and that, finally, finally, we are taking a look at the plight of our pilots.

Here’s dad, George Byers Jr, getting out of one of the planes he so loved to fly:

george-byers-jr-usmc-corsair

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Flowers for the Immaculate Conception (adverse conditions edition: very cool)

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“Eaten by the dog”, specifically Shadow-dog, and then roughly transplanted, and then ignored, the Guadalupe “superabundant” rose bush is doing surprisingly well, as well as the other rose hidden under the eaves on the North side of the rectory. I suspect that there will be some roses even this year. Very cool, that.

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Then, a bit closer to the statue are the above flowers, which appear to have had some sort of acid wash thrown over them. They haven’t given up, but are trying with all their might to do their best. Very cool, that.

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And then, amazingly, there’s these guys, all turned toward Mary, fresh and bright, but facing certain death perhaps even this very day. A wonderful parishioner is back from wintering in Florida, and explains to me that these particular flowers are only for the Winter. Summer is altogether different. They look to be trying to prove just how well they are doing in honor of Mary. But the angels know the time when our souls are ready to go before the Lord as well. Very cool, that.

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Ultra super detailed, these “flowers,” as it were, so to speak, are perfectly fine, except they know that they are at the mercy of an inept weedeater priest who might strip all the bark of the little trunk holding them up from the ground. Ignoring anxiety, they remain steadfast. Very cool, that.

Do you have flowers for the Immaculate Conception, even in this world? By the way, the Rosary is called the Rose-ary, I imagine, for a reason. Very cool, that.

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Homily 2018 04 30 Pius V – Lepanto

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The typical painting of Saint Pius V above. Below, his tomb at Saint Mary Majors. That picture was taken on one of my day pilgrimages in Rome while on the Missionary of Mercy ad limina (so to speak).

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In this, the “Sistine” chapel at Saint Mary Majors, just opposite Pius V in location though not in faith, is Pope Sixtus V (also my hero whose repentance I strive to imitate) but I digress.

Today’s homily:

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Bibi: Iran lied. But I’m angry with…

Israeli PM presents devastating array of evidence Iran is cheating on nuke deal

I am so angry. The Mossad is good. But what about us?! We didn’t know this?! Really?! I am so angry. This is a result of a failure of leadership in counterterrorism, counterintelligence. I happen to know something about that in regard to one of our Ambassadors in regard to Main State. But we’re rotten from the inside. We don’t care about treason. We only care about politics. Yep.

You may recall this recent post: Liquid Metal Fast Breeder Reactor – Conversing of LMFBR in my tiny parish. The LMFBR guy who came to visit me ought best to come round again. Why? Because, in his words, “we got conversations to have.” But at this point, I’m the one who will pick his brains right out of his head until he speaks freely. Then we’ll go along nicely to CT up the way so that I can throw his sorry backend in front of them, even Main State now that Pompeo is there. That LMFBR guy approached me moments after Israel was able to secure 1000 pounds of documentation about this subject and Iran. I mean, we would have watched all this leaving Iran and heading to Israel and we could be 100% certain what it was and we would immediately scrape the bottom of the barrel to find out what the consequences might be. That kind of stupidity puts millions of peoples lives at risk.

Update: O.K., anger has given way to celebration. This is one of if not the biggest intelligence / military coups in what we know of military history. Incredible. I’m so proud of Israel. To life, my friends, to life! I mean, just think of breaking into those safes in that warehouse, and then somehow moving 1000 pounds of cargo off that compound and into Israel. Just incredible. But it’s done. That’s just so cool.

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Trending: Dogs adopting priests

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Meet Shiloh the Samaritan, or, with the name Shiloh, is he from Palestine, or the West Bank, or Israel of old, or new for that matter? Anyway, a very peaceful dog, three times the age as Shadow-dog, and so friendly, so calm, unflappable, a 90 pound GSD, German Shepherd, the same size as Shadow-dog, but not at all the same temperament. I should bring Shadow-dog over to meet him. Perhaps Shadow-dog could learn some manners from him. Shiloh adopted our Very Reverend Vicar Forane, the parish priest of the neighboring parish, just the other day. Father is on his way through his advanced Canon Law studies and is as level headed as Shiloh, which is probably why Shiloh adopted him.

And then there’s another Canon Lawyer, the Judicial Vicar of Charlotte Diocese. It is Maggie who adopted him. Somehow, they also are very much alike. We’re all friends, all with dogs.

father john putnam maggie

There are others, but I have no pictures. But ever present to me are, of course, in first place, Laudie-dog, who adopted me when I was writing about the Immaculate Conception in the hermitage. Laudie-dog came to me shot with a 4.10 shell’s worth of bird shot between the shoulders, a bit of mange, ribs poking out her side, and the friendliest doggie smile ever:

laudie-dog surveillance-dog

Shadow-dog adopted me later on. Fully three times the size of Laudie-dog, Shadow-dog has been delegated by Laudie-dog to help her with surveillance:

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Laudie-dog, for all of her friendliness, is also terribly fierce, and has protected me from bear and panthers and mountain lions and wolves and lynx up at the hermitage. She’ll do whatever it takes to protect me. Shadow-dog, meanwhile, for however friendly and loyal he is, has not yet had the opportunity to protect me, and I hope that will never come. Being a good size dog, that might be pretty scary. Anyway, he’s totally socialized.

In the photo above you can see on the other side of the fence my thin patch of asparagus, but you can’t see any spears as they were just harvested. But already six more are breaking through the ground and will soon be ready to harvest.

father joshua voitus - vladimir the great

Anyway, not all priests have dogs. Some have cats. Our previous Very Reverend Vicar Forane has had a number of cats who have adopted him. His present cat is called Vladimir The Great. Of the Latin Rite, Father is very Eastern Rites minded. The dog-priests were making fun of him one day saying that real priests have dogs. He responded that such a statement was not always accurate. They begged him for an example of a real Catholic priest who had been adopted by a cat. He said: Pope Benedict XVI. That shut them up quick. Hah. And, please understand this as a compliment of Father when I say that he is like his cats, that is to say, also, mind you, very much like the Lion of the Tribe of Judah.

Anyway, no cat has adopted me. Only dogs.

But having said what I’ve said above about other priests and their dogs or cats, the question is whether or not I am like my dogs, Laudie-dog and Shadow-dog. I have to say that I wish I would have the fortitude and friendliness that they have, their fearlessness, their affability, their loyalty, their willingness, instantly, to lay down their lives for others.

 

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Gardening? Really? Too much work?

Today I had a pan full of asparagus sprinkled in olive oil to warm up just a touch and then slightly sprinkled with salt. They push themselves up from the soil I know not how. I go out and look at the stalks with amazement in the evening, knowing that the next morning they will already be tall enough to harvest. So quick.

Someone said that lettuce would be a good idea. I second that. As it also grows in abundance. I’ve tried a dozen times to eat salad stuff from the supermarket and always with disastrous E. coli O157:H7-esque consequences. I love salad, but I’ve totally given up on supermarkets.

And then there’s squWaRsh, as it’s pronounced here. And tomatoes. I think that would do it for me. But even with these four. But I’ll have to think about all that. It’s quite the project to have a garden. I shouldn’t forget that I wouldn’t have the asparagus without generous parishioners haven’t dug the bed and planted 2-year roots. I weeded the asparagus bed this morning and that was pretty exhausting (such a tiny patch!). But I suppose that indicates that I really should have a bigger garden.

My hesitation also comes from the typical life of priests. Once you just move into a parish you’re ripped out (painful) and you set to start a new adventure (exhilarating). But you can’t live on what-ifs, can you?

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Consecration at Mass: The irony!

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Father Gordon J MacRae (About) over at These Stone Walls asked me to publish some pictures of day pilgrimages during my Missionary of Mercy trip to Rome in the days surrounding Mercy Sunday 2018. The churches and basilicas involved saints who had been imprisoned, a kind of tradition throughout the centuries.

God’s revelation to us of love and truth and goodness and kindness is also manifested through these members of the Body of Christ, and is a kind of Sacred Tradition if you will, so to speak, as it were. As the great Cardinal Siri pointed out in Gethsemane, the supernatural faith and charity received with sanctifying grace are univocal, always the same, ever ancient, ever new, as they always have the same source in the Holy Spirit.

Christ Jesus was imprisoned. As the Master, so the disciple:

jesus mary solidarity prison

So, we have the tradition of Tradition. We are captives of the Captive One. His love and truth and goodness and kindness is captivating. People push and test His love and truth and goodness and kindness in us, wanting it to be true, but treating us in the same way as our sins treated Mary’s Divine Son. We are, then, captives of Catholic Tradition.

Fr. Gordon MacRae and Pornchai Moontri: Captives of Catholic Tradition

That seems to have gone a little viral with more than 20,000 shares as of this writing. Father Gordon complains: “So, my first post to hit 20k was not even written by me?!!!!” :-) It’s really a very short post. Pretty much all pictures. If you haven’t seen it yet or don’t know Father Gordon or TSW, go over and take a look, especially at Father Gordon’s About Page.

Anyway, Monica Harris dropped a comment on that post saying this:

“The root word of Tradition can also mean betrayal, right? Makes the title of this post true in both senses.”

Sacred Tradition, traditio, or, as the Council of Trent puts it, traditiones – traditions in regard to the articles of faith supernaturally infused into us by the Holy Spirit with Sanctifying grace, refers to a handing on among us of the faith it seems as if by hand (quasi per manus), but really wrought by the Holy Spirit. The Second Vatican Council in its dogmatic decree Dei Verbum, against all definitions of the “spirit of the Council”, repeats what Trent pronounced in Sacrosancta, its first dogmatic decree of the Fourth Session on April 8, 1546.

Judas handed over Jesus to be imprisoned and put to death. Judas, in handing over Jesus, betrayed Jesus. Yes.

In the consecration at Holy Mass, Jesus says:

Hoc est enim corpus meum quod pro vobis tradetur.

For this is my body which will be handed over (given up, betrayed) for you. In the inspired Greek of the Gospels, this is expressed in the present participle: διδόμενον “being handed over now”, thus uniting the Last Supper with Calvary.

The Holy Spirit’s action upon us, flooding us with sanctifying grace, bringing us supernaturally into faith and charity, Sacred Tradition, thus forming us into being the members of the Body of Christ depends on, has its foundation on the obedience of Jesus to the Father, obedience, ob-audire, the eager, prompt listening of Jesus unto death, our redemption. When Jesus lays down His life in this way He also lays down the life of the members of His Body. The most holy moment in the history of the universe, the consecration at the Last Supper, that upon which even Sacred Tradition depends, speaks of Judas’ betrayal of Jesus, indeed, of all the members of the Body of Christ. It is Tradition to be handed over, to be made captive so as to be free. Jesus unites us with Himself in His offering to the Father, handing us over to the Father with Himself.

Good one, Monica.

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Racist Democrat President Andrew Jackson’s genocidal death march

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Homily 2018 04 29 – Extreme Sports

That’s not the friend I talk about in the homily, though it absolutely could be in his younger days…

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This priest’s EDC (every day carry)

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Underneath my clericalized 5-11 tactical shirt (which is super-useful for hospital visits and Communion calls with it’s large cargo pockets), all this stuff is carried on my belt:

  • Glock 19 Gen 4 new 12 July 2016 and just refurbished in Smyrna last week, in a Serpa Blackhawk holster, which is hated by operators for slowing down the draw, but whose security catch, costing about 0.25 seconds (that is a lot, btw) is worth it for EDC for civilian defensive carry as it stops dead any attempt to take the carry from behind in an altercation. It’s chambered with 15 in the mag, all defensive bullets that will stop but not pass through a target, for the safety of others.
  • On the far side are two mags full of FMJ, because (1) if the 15 didn’t work it’s most likely because ballistic vests are being used and now’s the time for FMJ; (2) this way I’m already well on my way for being ready for some target practice.
  • Two key-chains so full of keys for the two campuses of the parish, which I use all the time, that one parishioner calls me “the janitor.” That nickname is also used for something else among LEOs, but I’m not going there.
  • A 2.5″ straight knife, holstered upside down and sideways for a quick grab that has the blade facing where it should. This is used for utility purposes all day long. Knives are now illegal in the U.K. I have to wonder how that is going to help along their cuisine.
  • Pretty much all military and LEOs and operators of all kinds right around the world will recognize the tourniquet (the pouch including some bandages). I carry this also for emotional reasons. These are made in my parish at IOI, which was created for a parishioner. This one was given to me by a board member. This is a smart item to carry, as anyone who carries (legally) is well over four times as likely to be injured by gunfire than anyone else in the population.

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That’s all covered by the frumpy clerical shirt. Meanwhile, besides the purple stole and emergency rites liturgical books carried in Sassy the Subaru, I have other personal carry not carried on the belt:

  • You gotta have a phone if you’re a priest (plenty of emergency calls) and if you carry. I’m “that guy” who calls 911 when there is a crash on the road or whatever.
  • The wallet always has enough money to get out of a situation. There’s Federal I.D., the “carry permit” required in N.C., USCCA (the best anywhere in the world; I’m very happy to have this) and health insurance cards, etc.
  • The rosary is carried in a quick access pocket. No crucifix that only gets tangled, and just knotted with nylon as anything else for me breaks. This is a working rosary.
  • The rosary pouch from the Holy Father doesn’t contain anything religious. Sorry. Just medicine I need during the day and possibly overnight, without which not.
  • The oil of the infirm, for emergency anointing. I’ve used this oh say about a million times. An absolute necessity. I have water in the car for emergency baptisms.

I’m open to suggestions.

Update: More car carry:

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Flowers for the Immaculate Conception (Lots of potential edition)

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About a trillion little buds – give or take a billion – are getting ready to explode into flowers in honor of the Immaculate Conception, but right now they are just in potentia. Though what will be a flower is already a flower, right? Anyway, this miracle of joy is taking place right in the backyard of the rectory, despite Shadow-dog stripping some of the low branches that are in his way while he chases about.

When I was a kid, and right through my life, I always heard the nice compliment that I have a lot of potential, really really a lot of potential, I mean, wow, really a lot of potential, you know, with the emphasis on potential. Of course, what that means is that I haven’t ever actuated much of that potential at all. But, hey!, encouragement is encouragement. I guess this is pretty much true for us all.

But Mary was actuating, as it were, her potential right from the beginning of her Immaculate Conception, speaking about this much later, in Lourdes, calling herself the Immaculate Conception even as the Queen Mother of heaven and earth, angels and men, being the good mom of the King of kings, the Lord of lords, the Prince of the Most Profound Peace, for, after all, she was fully transformed in grace from the first instant of her conception, instantly bearing within herself the indwelling of the Most Holy Trinity.

Saint Paul says that we are also transformed in grace (see Ephesians 1:6), though after suffering the effects of original sin as we continue to do while we are in this world. We always have a lot of potential until that grace turns to glory in heaven, but by grace it already is what it is, right? Even we, in all our weakness and darkness and temptation, bear within us the indwelling of the Most Holy Trinity. And dearest Mary Immaculate interceded for us that that might be the case. Thank you, Mary. Thank you, Jesus.

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Baiting Baiters: Stockholm Syndrome

twa flight 800

The logistics of operational structures in Northeast Virginia, adjacent Maryland and associated field interests were clarified for me the other day in regard to my “Shadow” to the effect that there was an inescapable indication as to those for whom my “Shadow” has been working all these decades, really since the very beginning. And now he knows I know. So, he appreciates my texting him the following:

I just figured you out. I’m a bit slow. I had some help. You should’ve just told me. Pretty funny if you ask me. I’m cool with that. Just be good. Avoid evil. Have your soul straight with God.

That was sincere. I mean, I am a priest, after all. I want everyone to have their souls right with God, even the one who stole my identity so as to do things with it internationally and totally unknown to me for the longest time, that is, at the behest of those for whom he works. But, I suppose, my admonition to him also involved a little bit of baiting.

It worked. His response was to give me a heads up about what the relationship is between me and those for whom he works, regardless of any loyalty of mine to all that is patriotic, all that is good and holy, and this, by playing off a recent post on this blog involving the extremity of such loyalty and that particular center on this blog: Metallica: Nothing Else Matters (Analysis of the lyrics). Nice, that response of his, giving me a heads up and all. Not that I didn’t know that. After all, this has been going on for decades and the relevant Division of Main State and later the FBI confirmed this for me on their own initiative. As I’ve always said, my life is an open book, more than any polygraph or other means could ever drag out of me or ascertain (I mean, should I ever have been signed up for said company myself).

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In more recent years, especially in recent months, especially in recent weeks, especially in recent days and hours, despite that initial niceness, my “Shadow” has been playing up baiting me into having a syndrome originally called Norrmalmstorgssyndromet but now recalls the city in which an incident occasioned analysis: the Stockholm Syndrome.

I’m guessing he’s sincere on one level, but is so caught up in his rationalizations that he just doesn’t see his own baiting in reverse. Or not that. Maybe I’ve been baiting him to bait me. Maybe we’re just pretending to out-manipulate each other. But, after all, in his mind, if he’s done wrong and I don’t like that, maybe he feels the oppression of my not liking being taken advantage of with my name being used. He’s a “victim”[!], well, until I cave and work with him for the company. But maybe, from my perspective, I can capitalize on all that. He will read this, of course.

The trouble with him making that baiting me into a Stockholm Syndrome a success is that I’m already so bad and evil that I’m already in a pre-skeptical state, a kind of self-aware situational awareness of all that which is bad and evil. Nothing has changed with all of this. Not even with the heating up of incidents, not even with the recent exaggeration of the “accompaniment” when I travel as promised by Main State and the FBI. I still have a request and I still have something to say to the FBI and CT at Liberty Crossing Campus that dwarfs this idiocy between my “Shadow” and me.

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Homily 2018 04 27 – I AM the Truth

World Youth Day 2016 Pope Francis and Jesus

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