Tag Archives: Mafia

“Den of Thieves” Sankt Gallen & Anti-Mafia

So far, in this series:

The “Den of Thieves” documentary is about how some few people, allegedly dazzled with money, allegedly cynically used the desire of others, that desire being to provide for the common good as motivated by genuine religious piety. It’s not that those others who were being used were “important” or “had extraordinary talents.” No. They were simply convenient stooges in the eyes of the cynical, nothing, pawns to be removed at will.

This resonates with me because it seems to me that, at a certain point, I was set to be one of the stooges for this alleged money laundering scheme, just another convenient, useful idiot in the eyes of those same cynical people. It was a perfect storm of coincidences. Nothing more. I’m nothing, nobody, but certainly eager in my naïveté. Apologies for dragging you though some personal history, but what is recounted here about my being thrown into the dark side of the Church and then about anti-Mafia connections feeds into what I think may be a lead someone might want to take up regarding the alleged money laundering of the (Catholic) American University of Madaba, Jordan (AUM) and the alleged money laundering of Vatican Bank. No apologies, however, for my throwing in some humor with this. We gotta lighten it up, right?

Encouragement to get to know the dark side

Just by happenstance logistical circumstance, as a nobody seminarian, way back in the day, I became friends with a newly ordained priest who was actually a believer, solidly Catholic, pious, one of the few truly brilliant minds in the Church today. Over the decades he became concerned that I was too entrenched in being oblivious to the real world, the way things are, the glaring wounds slashed upon, hammered into the Body of Christ. Over a period of some months he tried to convince me that part of being faithful is to recognize all the unfaithfulness there is all around us, also in the Holy See, the Roman Curia, Satan prowling to murder souls. I had been too content with seeing myself as evil, but, please God, saved by Jesus Christ. Out of sloth, I didn’t want to also much notice the needs of the Lord’s Little Flock.

One day, many years having gone by but still repeating his mantra against my naïvité, he then added that a certain papabile (someone quite likely to be elected Pope in a future conclave) with whom he was acquainted ex officio, needed a driver, and that I would be perfect for this, as it would be my chance to get to know the dark side, those individuals in the Church who had chosen not to follow Jesus. Finally I would be put face to face with the needs of the Lord’s Little Flock that my friend knew all too well. But, he warned me repeatedly, this papabile is likely a homosexualist. Well, that was no surprise. I had been surrounded by that in the seminary and throughout my priesthood. This simply meant that I was to meet up with sociopathic rationalizations now more than ever.

This is the kind of thing an ecclesiastical library rat – the most extreme in wanting to be nobody so as to make the silence of a highly protected library effective – would be happy to do, as it would permit (1) continuing in the joy of being nobody, (2) it would afford entertainment (which was otherwise walking about Rome memorizing Greek and Hebrew paradigms) and (3) might possibly aid in the betterment of the Church, however that would work out, trusting my friend that he knew what he was doing. He was an occasional Confessor for me and, on occasion, also a spiritual director. I was well aware that this was also for the good of my soul, meant to rip me out of the entirely too-easy-life of the naïve.

My friend then said he’s going to make a phone call to set this up. Some days later, he told me that I was expected at that papabile’s residence at my convenience. I put this off for weeks, but at his insistence, I went. Was I being set up to be a spy, reporting back to my friend? Sure. Obviously. That’s also the point. I trusted him and still do trust him to this day, entirely. Is that being naïve? I was learning.

On the periphery of Sankt Gallen

In the space of just a year and a half I was catapulted into extreme Church politics, gaining in perspective. This included moving amongst the movers and shakers and other papabili of the time. For instance, I gave a retreat to a certain group of priests and power-monsignors of the Archdiocese of Milan as a favor to Cardinal Martini, S.J., a fellow “Scripture scholar” of the Pontifical Biblical Institute, if you’ll forgive my adding myself in name to such a gnostic group. After that retreat, Martini tried to draw me in closer, having his minions, now inside the Jesuit Biblicum, put pressure on me to do translations for his non-stop verbiage published at the time everywhere in the world. On one occasion, I was brought to within a few miles of Sankt Gallen when that particular papabile for whom I was a “driver” threw an apoplectic tantrum as he remembered some real-time church politics taking place there. This actually scared me. He was frantic: “Turn into that parking lot! Now! – Now turn around! – Go, go, go!” I had no idea what Sankt Gallen was back then. Needless to say, this incident indicates that I wasn’t quite in the inner circle, though I would continue to be invited to accompany the power-Cardinals at whatever Pontifical event. I’ve been given the name “the janitor”, but now I was “the driver”. Still a nobody, thanks be to God. Sorry, just a little humor to lighten it up a bit:

Again, for me, all this was entertainment in the midst of stratospheric academics. It was an opportunity to do what I never do, provoking or responding to ferocious discussions on the most essential refinements of perspective that was “steering the policy” (a phrase I hate) regarding the world and the Church. I would try to point out that our redemption wrought in Christ is the driving engine of history, that Jesus is the Lord of History. Deaf ears for that pronouncement.

In those years I could and would wend my own way throughout, say, the Secretariat of State, from the “Tower” to the Terzo Piano, always starting from the wrong door, say, the back door of the back door, just to gaslight security, teaching them a lesson in just how unprepared they are, just to do it. Conversely, I would be brought into even the most remote offices and back corridors throughout Vatican City State. For instance, I was left home alone, if you will, for hours, with the secret archives specifically of the Congregation for Bishops, right in front of me, I’m guessing as a test. The chain of custody, if you will, wouldn’t be lost if there were cameras. But maybe I was the stooge. Or simply trusted. There’s my naïveté.

Weirdly, I was invited, pressured really, by a number higher-ups and papabili throughout the years to investigate the maze of tunnels also used for electrical conduits and old pneumatic communications systems crisscrossing below Vatican City, throughout the Roman Curia, and everything inclusive in between, and one of which was still used. My questions, retrieving answers, and countered with recommendations, were all about security. I heard later that one of those recommendations for the residence “Santa Marta” involving what I’ll call “security windows”, with a certain chemical barrier, was taken up with the most up-to-date technologies. Another recommendation was taken up for the Holy Office after my own computer was disappeared, which is laughable; whoever it was got a lot of Greek and Hebrew paradigms and exegetical notes. Ooo! The Hail Mary in Greek! The Lord’s Prayer in Syriac! Many offices in the Curia had been hit that very night.

My friend who threw me into this maelstrom told me frequently that I was beginning to be “feared in the Roman Curia.” This was a warning. And this wasn’t because I was important. It’s because I was an unknown quantity. People hate that. He himself was taken aback as all this was taking on a life of its own. He didn’t elaborate, but the original papabile to whom I was “assigned”, so to speak, often mentioned… incidents… meetings… in which I was brought up by this or that Cardinal Prefect, this or that Archbishop Secretary, including various and sundry at the top of the Secretariat of State. There were objections about me that were met with strong defenses. That particular papabile (who set me up with Martini), named names, stating who my friends were, repeating their names again and again over the years. This surprised me, as I had never met or talked to such people, and wondered what that was all about.

I am not bragging about this. It makes me feel unclean. But learning about the dark side was good for my priesthood. Being at least slightly less naïve has provided that I can be a bit more available to Jesus for what He wants of me in navigating all the hell there is in this dark world.

But such a life history can and did have unintended consequences. Whenever one moves in the circles of those who are also, say, at the center of international finances, to the point of teaching financiers philosophical nuances of rationalizations for whatever economic systems, that is, to the point of manipulating world leaders, or those who in turn manipulate world leaders, through larger than life institutions such as the United Nations, the World Economic Forum, the World Bank, various parliaments and influential mega-rich individuals, it is then that one is also noticed by the intelligence community. They want to know who such a person is, for better or worse. And that’s just really annoying for them. I was annoying for them. Again, it’s not because I’m important. It’s because I’m happy to be the useful idiot for the good of my own soul. The question for those who notice this regards whether I’m willing to be even more of an idiot than I already am. Trusting my friend is one thing. Trusting intel is quite another.

Recruitment tactics of anti-Mafia GICO

Years after being thrown into the dark side, so, now in the mid-2000s, I was at targeted for recruitment by the Gruppo d’investigazione sulla criminalità organizzata (Organized Crime Investigation Group = GICO), which is a specialized department of the Guardia di Finanza, the Guardians of Finance, an Italian law enforcement agency, a subsection of their Department of Defense. That should tell you something about those in the Roman Curia I was hanging around with. Some of the GICO are Tier 1 operators. They investigate and finish what they start regarding international drug trafficking, smuggling, financial crimes, money laundering, terrorism, what always goes hand in hand with money laundering, which is the financing of terrorism, not to mention their attempts to tamp down human and sex trafficking. They also have much to do, therefore, with customs and border protection. But most especially, with intensity, any GICO adrenaline rush is being everywhere and everything all that which is anti-Mafia. They’re the ones.

My recruitment, at first, wasn’t meant to tear me away from the inner sanctums of the library of the Pontifical Biblical Institute, where I was daily, literally, the first to enter and the last to leave. Academic endeavors having nothing to do with the Mafia were one of the aspects of my life lending me, strangely, the street cred needed to move among those who were to be my named targets for spying, that is, some particular Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church. On the Italian peninsula, where there’s money, there are also all-too-clever mafiosi. There were two individuals involved in my recruitment to assist with anti-Mafia activities, one I’ll call The Thug, the other The buffoon.

The Thug

The thug entered my life after I once again arrived in Italy, and had sent boxes of books back to Rome. The thug had waylaid those boxes, sending them instead to his anti-Mafia office he was temporarily using at the docks down in Naples. Killing two birds with one stone, I first attended the celebrations for San Gennaro on 19 September and then went to “his” office. He himself didn’t appear, though we had had many phone calls leading up to this would-be meeting. He threatened me with all sorts of trumped up charges, such as tax evasion for using old and tattered dictionaries instead of buying new ones in Italy. Pfft. More seriously, I had sent restricted medicine to myself from oversees, a supply of some months as it takes forever to get a doctor in Rome and this was medicine on which I depend to stay alive from day to day. My bad. I had brought a supply on the plane with me, but I would need this other medicine soon enough. My anti-Mafia friend had waylaid this at the airport in Rome. I complained that I would have to go overseas to get the medicine and then return again, continuously. I told him honestly that I didn’t know it was restricted. Kicking me in the face was now counterproductive for him, so he let me have the meds as well.

This anti-Mafia thug, never letting up, was forever bragging about his accomplishments, what rank he held in the anti-Mafia and what his role had been in famous Mafia take-downs up to that point. He was poised to become part of the top council of the anti-Mafia. I’m guessing that such stories, true or not, were meant as a threat as much as some sort of credibility statement. He would literally hunt me down wherever in Italy I was, befriending me by, say, taking me on day-trips to whatever ecclesiastical pilgrimage site. I played along with such shenanigans because in doing so, one learns much about motivations. Indeed, the whole time he would speak of what he wanted me to take on as assignments from him, so that I would report to him about – you guessed it – the Cardinals whose names and residences he correctly iterated. He had this witnessed, though such conversations would not be public. I was to to be a spy, but this time for the Italian Ministry of Defense. One of the more ironic day trips was to Orvieto. He said he wanted to get my comment on Signorelli’s mural of the anti-Christ in the side chapel of that zebra-Cathedral. Clever.

For a really cool slide-show about the zebra-esque “Duomo” from Google Maps: HERE. Really awesome. And he was right. I was truly impressed. But I think my explanation of the anti-Christ went right over his head.

By now any threats were over, and he had moved on to bribery. For instance, for the summer months of my return to Italy I was living on the top of a mountain some 100 kms North of Rome. I would commute by bus which normally went to the top of that mountain. He had said that he had arranged with the chief at the local police station at the base of the mountain to give me a ride, personally, wherever I wanted whenever I wanted. Imagine the hatred that chief would have for that guy, and by extension, for me. Immediately after such arrangements were made, the bus was cancelled at the bottom of the mountain, and likewise the train. Just when I arrived. Again and again. Coincidence?

This left all the bus passengers flustered. Even though a number of times it would be raining, and even though it was a hike of many miles up the all too steep mountain, an old volcano, I wouldn’t take the bribe. I was asked about my not taking the bribe some time later. The guy was really angry. I had made a fool of him. Bribery is the flip side of extortion. The thug was so very sleazy that I didn’t trust him at all. Hence, my nickname for him, the thug.

The Buffoon

Soon after this failure, still in the mid-2000s, I was at targeted for recruitment once again by GICO, this time intensifying the pressure by using someone a bit more clean, more refined, more polite, with a judicial grasp of the Italian language, a talent preemptively winning all arguments in Italy. This buffoon was the top Italian military attorney, now also getting his degree in Canon Law as he was the named liaison between the Italian Department of Defense and the Holy See. The Italian military cooperates with the Holy See in just about everything security-wise, and there is a lot of legal maneuvering what with ever refined concordats and such. He had moved into my priests’ residence in Rome and after no time he was wanting to arrange that I become a pastor of a certain parish in southern Italy in order to help them arrest certain mafiosi by their bugging of my Confessionals, etc.

Unlike the thug, he did this recruiting as if it were all good, above board. He did this publicly, hoping to legitimize his request by attempting to make such an agreement with me in front of important and well connected ecclesiastics in Rome, one of them a well known professor, a consultant for the Holy See, entrenched in the Middle East, and a Pontifical Confessor at one of the major papal basilicas in Rome, always at hobnobbing events, known to everyone in the Holy See and amongst the worldly politicians of the day. Since I’m actually a priest, there’s no way I’m going to betray the Seal of Confession. They would all have known of the automatic excommunication awaiting any priest who breaks the Seal of Confession. I said this plainly. This attorney guy failed as well.

Yet, for him to get to that point, finalizing arrangements for this rather sensitive operation with the Holy See, this attorney guy would have already done his due diligence in my regard. Such a background check, if you will, would have not been possible unless it had been put directly in front of the guy in this series whom I nickname Bellissima. In proportion to this being out of the ordinary, coming from the Italian Department of Defense, such a request would be duly noted, remembered. More than that, Bellissima would have been acutely aware that I had gotten a Propaganda Due “P2” guy out of the Holy Office right at that time. That was quite the nuclear explosion all on its own, and was confirmed for me years later by the head of Intel for the Holy See. But I digress.

But perhaps this buffoon guy was actually doing me a favor, giving me the opportunity to publicly manifest a rejection, thus distancing myself from any mafia-esque disgruntlement. But I’m not “important” enough for that kind of cover which is at best ineffective. There would still be a question mark over my name. Even a buffoon would know this, and so would anyone hearing of this. After my rejecting his offer to assist in taking down some individuals in the Mafia, he could have come to me later, privately, and said, “Well played! Hahaha. So, what’s your real answer?”

Back to alleged money laundering at the American University of Madaba and Vatican Bank

Fast forward a few years when it’s now crunch time for the new American University of Madaba, Jordon, which was seemingly, allegedly, from the beginning, set up as a front for money laundering as pointed out in Church Militant’s documentary “Den of Thieves” (which I’ve repeatedly showcased at the top of every installment in this series). It’s now 2010 and AUM, though incorporated in, of all places, New Hampshire, has zero accreditation in the USA, not even in New Hampshire. It all seems to be just a lot of deceptive fakery. Important donors, to the tune of millions of dollars, were getting skittish. It was all about to implode. The perfect storm.

When it was discovered that I was willing to work and teach in Israel and then be transferred to within an easy bike ride of the American University of Madaba, and that I had already assisted a university level Catholic institution to get their accreditation, and that I could easily have supplied the Holy Mass and sacraments and whatever, say, optional courses in philosophy, theology, Scripture (even though AUM was not explicitly mentioned in that trajectory of life laid out for me), well, that information would allegedly have been shared with Bella in New Hampshire. I’m thinking Bella is the guy who assisted AUM with incorporation, with “accreditation”, and, most importantly, with the money laundering. I’m thinking that Bella knew absolutely nothing about me. But happy to capitalize on such an opportunity in giving AUM a little boost, he immediately called his friend, Bellissima, with whom he’s as thick as thieves, so as to say: “We have a convenient stooge, a useful idiot, someone who’s nobody, who can help AUM’s standing.”

See previous installments of this series about Bella and Bellissima. It would have been quite impossible for Bellissima not to have known about my activities in the Holy See and then with the anti-Mafia. For all of them, I’m exactly, precisely the person that would have to be kept far away from AUM. As I mentioned in a previous posting in this series, a threat, delivered with consummate politeness yet thuggery of enforcing the threat was called into my own ecclesiastical higher-ups, putting a kibosh on my getting on the plane to Tel Aviv within hours, that cancellation causing catastrophic difficulties in many countries. I was entrenched in being a nobody and that was the problem. I couldn’t be verified as a friendly, and there was a question mark as to why I had been hanging with papabili and anti-Mafia for years.

All just my opinion. I’m not implicating anyone, not naming anyone. The underlying allegations of money laundering are made by someone else whom I don’t know, whom I’ve never talked with, in the video up top of this post. What I write here might perhaps be considered as a lead by some few. I don’t know. I’m just putting my own experiences out there. At least for me, this narrative answers the most questions the most consistently and the most simply. Perhaps it’s all fiction. I don’t know. To me, it raises questions.

As the Lord’s providence would have it, I would again cross paths with both Bella and Bellissima not long thereafter. And it wasn’t pleasant.

Next up in this series: “Den of Thieves” Vatican Bank – J’accuse!

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Filed under Holy See, Humor, Intelligence Community, Law enforcement

Open letter to Sammy *The Bull* Gravano: You got a bad attitude, Sammy. I worry about you.

  • Nightline: “You a good man?”
  • Sammy: “I think I’m a descent man.”
  • Nightline: “You don’t worry about a final judgment?”
  • Sammy: “I’ll worry about that that day, and we’ll see what happens.”

Big mistake. You’ve spoken your own judgment already now, right there, Sammy. Let’s rephrase that conversation with a bit more clarity:

  • Jesus: “If you love me, keep the commandments.”
  • Sammy: “Loving God and neighbor by keeping the commandments isn’t my way of getting the job done. It doesn’t mean I don’t love God and neighbor. I’m just doing it my way.”
  • Jesus: “I am the way, the truth and the life. If you love me, keep the commandments.”
  • Sammy: “You, Jesus, want to judge me, Salvatore? Get in line. We’ll see what happens on that day.”

Big mistake. You’ve spoken your own judgment already now, right there, Sammy: You’re disrespecting Jesus, dishonoring Him. How do you think that’s going to work out?

You think you have power over the Creator of the universe?

You think you can be self-righteous in front of Him, who stood in our place, Innocent for the guilty, taking what we deserve for sin, death, on Himself, so that He could base His mercy on His justice, He, standing in our place: “Father, forgive them?”

Jesus just showed us His Truth, His love. In our cynicism and self-righteousness, this was perceived by us an incriminating, as an insult. We killed Him to get Him out of the way, such entitled cowards are we, not being able to face the Truth of who we are before God.

He knew that would happen. He baited us into it. He did it to take on the death we deserve for sin. But He’s Innocent, and He’s God. He has the right in His own justice to forgive us. He has the right to command us: “If you love me, keep the commandments.” And you blow Him off, Sammy?

It’s been a while since your first Holy Communion, right?

What did you do before that? Your first Confession, right?

Time to go to Sacramental Confession again. Let’s get the job done.


So, besides the soul of Sammy, why do I put up such a post on my little blog?

After the RICO laws started up, and after Sammy did what he did because of those RICO laws, things have changed for the mafia over in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, Ozone Park… And there are really a lot of Mafia who are living out their last days in the quiet, forested, back ridges of the Appalachian paradise that is my parish. They’re also right now moving into the area. And Sammy’s statements are a scandal to them, keeping them away from Jesus. Not good.

To one and all: Go to Confession! Don’t wait until “that day.”

Sammy is not beyond redemption, beyond Jesus’ forgiveness. No one is.

And don’t think that the keys of the Pearly Gates are with Saint Peter at the entrance to heaven and that those keys will be turned on “that day.” No. Those keys are held and are turned by the lowly parish priest in the Confessional. You want to go to heaven, go to the gates of heaven now, in the Confessional, and start on the Way, who is Jesus.

We’re not computers, but an integral, that is, honest Confession has the following characteristics:

  • Confession of all mortal sins, the kind that they are, say, murder, and the number of times, even if we have to guesstimate, say, 19 murders, or is it more. No details. No excuses. No obfuscation. Just say it, flat out. That’s it.
  • Well, important circumstances that add mortal sin have to be included. So, say a young man, not Sammy, but any young man, murders an old man. That’s one thing. But if that old man is his father, that also has to be confessed as that’s against another commandment of honor thy father and thy mother. Get it? Just the facts.
  • There has to be contrition, at least because of fearing the loss of heaven and fearing the pains of eternal hell. It would be great if one were also sorry to God for having offended God’s love.
  • There has to be a firm purpose of amendment of life, to not sin again.

After that, the priest will give the absolution, the soul will radiate God’s grace, all forgiven, pointed to heaven, ready to go. Really. God is good. God loves us. He paid the price. Just take it in.

Sure, there a “penance”, you know, like “Say three Hail Marys for the souls in purgatory.” Whatever it is for the Confession that’s made. The priest should give you a penance that you can actually do.


I say all this with full respect, as a courtesy, with the aim of getting souls to heaven, including that of “Sammy the Bull”, Salvatore Gravano.

And no, I don’t think I’m better than him or anyone else. As it says in the book of Revelation: We will all of us together look on Him who we have pierced through. We all stand in need of the Lord’s forgiveness. I just went to Confession a few days ago. I don’t want to go hell. I want to go to heaven. I want other to go to heaven. You, too, Sammy. All of us.

P.S. Remember John Gotti not getting a Funeral Mass. Well, if you, Sammy, also make a public renunciation of the Mafia, I’ll give you a public funeral. Yep. It would be an honor to respect you.

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Filed under Mafia

What’s up with the Mafia, Father Byers? Can you break the Seal of Confession for us?

Here’s a fictional conversation between myself and a certain law enforcement officer:

  • What’s up with the Mafia, Father Byers?
  • I’m a priest, not a rat.
  • You’ve made it point to get to know a guy helping head up GICO of GdiF.
  • That antimafia freakboy? I’m impressed. You’ve done your research. But you’re wasting my time. Am I free to leave?
  • You’re right. It was his initiative. He made it a point to get to know you. We put him on to you.
  • But for years, with bribes that would embarrass Church and State, with extortion that would have left me bereft of lifesaving medicine, even threats to bring my priesthood to an end in any number of ways, all witnessed, so annoying. Typical craft. What of it?
  • But life as a spy, full of adrenaline, the assignments he was giving you… You resisted…
  • I guess you’re having a problem with my answer at the start of this interrogation.
  • You misunderstand. This is just a conversation. We’re all friends.
  • So, I’m free to leave, friend?
  • There is the matter of that liaison between the Ministero della Difesa and the Holy See that we had living at your college in Rome.
  • You mean that idiot wanting to get me assigned to a certain parish with the end of having me break the Seal of Confession should any members of the mafia sing about what they’ve done? That weasel, sorry excuse for a human being, pezzo di merda?
  • Um… the best attorney Italy has to offer, Father Byers. He was getting his doctoral degree in Church Law as well if I remember. But, yes, that’s why we’ve brought you in.
  • I cannot break the Seal of Confession. What’s said there stays there, buried deep in the wounds of Christ. I would die before breaking the Seal of Confession. I don’t want to be excommunicated. I don’t want to go to hell. I want to go to heaven. I cannot betray the blood of Christ Jesus in the Confessional. I have no right to anything said there. If I were to betray sins confessed in Sacramental Confession, I would take the guilt of all those sins on myself. I won’t do that. As for you… you betray your oath to uphold the Constitution, the First Amendment, the free exercise of religion. You should go to Confession. We’re done here.
  • But we thought you might be brave enough to go up against the mafia.
  • I want those in the mafia to go to heaven, repentant, with a firm purpose of amendment, with changed circumstances of life, with absolution.
  • We just want to listen in. We wont act on anything. It’s privileged information. You can do your duty as a priest and help to protect innocent people.
  • After all this time, you, the religious expert — one-time seminarian, is that right? — you still don’t get that I’m not against flesh and blood. I want people to go to heaven, including the mafia. I am against the fallen angels. And you’re siding with them, aren’t you? I believe in God, because I see His wounds.
  • I’ll tell you whose wounds I see, those of the sheep inflicted by those damned mafia wolves.
  • You only lust after promotion. You come to me only because you can’t do your own job. You just want to imprison the mafia. But I can do more to end the multiplication of victims by converting individual members of the mafia, relying only on integrity and honesty and honor and respect.

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Filed under Confession, Intelligence Community, Law enforcement, Mafia, Priesthood

Vax for Sacraments: Zeig mir deinen Ausweis! Coward (arch)bishops vs Mafiosi. Humor. So sad.

From the website of the Archdiocese of Moncton: COVID-19: GREEN phase: September 17th 2021 Update

Beginning Wednesday Sep 22nd, at any gathering inside our churches, rectories or community centres under our supervision, those present must be doubly vaccinated. By gatherings we mean: religious celebrations (Sunday and weekly masses, prayer meetings, baptisms, weddings and funerals, Confirmation, First Reconciliation, First Communion), parish and pastoral meetings, catechesis meetings, management meetings, conferences, workshops, fraternal and social meetings, bingos, card games, etc. By those present we mean: priests, lay ministers, members of choirs, volunteers, the faithful and other participants. This also applies to family members or close friends at baptisms, weddings, or funerals. Young people under the age of 12 are naturally exempted by this measure, as they cannot currently be vaccinated. How can these measures be put in place?

  1. At Masses next week, several volunteers are expected to be at the doors of each church to ask worshippers for full proof of vaccination and collect their names on a list of fully vaccinated people. This list will be used again on subsequent Sundays so our volunteers will avoid asking our parishioners for proof of vaccination each time. The request for proof of vaccination would then be required only for new people. This list may eventually be requested by the government.
  2. Inform the funeral home staff that family members and loved ones who come to church are to be doubly vaccinated. For baptisms and weddings, this task will fall to the parish office staff or to the person meeting the family to prepare for the celebration. As with other masses and celebrations, it will be necessary to keep a list of participants in funerals, weddings and baptisms after ensuring that they are doubly vaccinated.
  3. For catechesis with children, we follow the rules in force in schools. For the safety of young people, catechists should be fully vaccinated. When parents (or another adult) attend the meetings, they will of course have to be doubly vaccinated. For a celebration in church, you will follow the rule in force now in our churches.
  4. As for parish employees, it is highly desirable that they be fully vaccinated. However, if this is not the case, they will have to wear a mask at all times and undergo a COVID test periodically according to government policy.
  5. We will accept anyone who comes to the parish offices for information or service. If this person is not vaccinated, they may be asked to wear a mask.

Questions: Can we still accept a person who is not vaccinated or has a single dose inside our facilities for a celebration or a meeting? Even with a mask and social distancing?
Answer: The minister said “no” unless she had proof of exemption, which is rare.

We ask you to implement these new measures in each of your Christian communities not only to respect the government’s request but above all to help stop the spread of the virus among our population. We would not want one of our places of worship to be the location of a COVID exposure due to our negligence. The Minister of Health is counting on our cooperation.

If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact us so that we can help you implement these new measures. I thank you in advance for all the efforts it requires to put in place this new protocol.

May the Lord bless us and continue to watch over us. — Mgr Valery Vienneau, Archbishop of Moncton

=========

You are correct, your Grace, the Lord is watching you.

Dear readers, this kind of thing is happening multiple times a day right around the world and is coming to a(n) (arch)diocese near you.

In my little world, I think of immediately of the mafia. Lol. I’d like to see the coward bishops who insist on implementing these measures come to a baptism or wedding or funeral involving a mafia crime family and telling a capo or boss or any low-level enforcer that they are not allowed in the church, and that they have to show their identities. Do you think a cowardly bishop is going to threaten these guys by whispering at the entrance to a church to say, a mafia hitman, like, “I know where your family lives, where your children go to school…”

No, no. Ain’t gonna happen. If any (arch)bishop tries this, he’ll immediately disgustingly soil himself when the mafia hitman tells him ever so matter-of-factly what will happen forthwith unless any interference ceases. Lol.

Meanwhile, so very sad. Denying the Sacraments. And the Holy See doesn’t do anything. Because of that, it seems to me that those in the Holy See are using the likes of such (arch)bishops as test-the-waters cases. If they “get away with it” and they are, this will happen elsewhere, as is happening.

But, about that testing of the waters:

How are the waters, (arch)bishop?

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Filed under Coronavirus, Free exercise of religion, Humor

Pope Francis angrier than ever with TLM

My messy translation on the fly:

  • “Concerning the Motu proprio Traditionis custodes the Pope insisted [with the French bishops on their ad limina visit some days ago] on the fact that it must not be that the celebration of the Ancient Rite be a pretext for refusing Vatican II. “A limit must be established and ENOUGH!” he insisted with the Bishops of France to the end that a liturgical attraction must not be cover for an ideological posture. With that, the Successor of Peter incited them to adopt a “paternal attitude” toward the faithful.”

The word “basta” in any latinesque language connotes real anger, voiced sotto voce by the mafia hit-man before a kill, or in the loud shouting of one who is frustrated, cornered, at the end of his rope: “BASTA!” In English such a proclamation of exasperation is likely to be followed by theological methodologies of localities: “ENOUGH! DAMN IT!” The message for the bishops is clear: either they smack priests down or they will be smacked down.

The superlative, if you will, of “basta” is “bastone”, a cane, stick, that with which you would club someone to death, as in the verb bastonare. The image is that of a mafioso smashing someone’s brains out with a baseball bat. You know the famous scene in The Untouchables. It’s the “We’re-the-‘men-of-consensus’-or-else!” baseball-bat-scene”. BTW, this is very violent, but, I think, a poignant analogy regarding the “paternal attitude” (godfather attitude) that is desired from bishops who do not smack down any non-team players among their priests, any priest who’s not a “man of consensus”:

The frustration and resulting anger comes from the weird insistence that the Ancient Rite is somehow itself an ipso facto structuring of the faith of adherents such that, Pope Francis presumes, the Ancient Rite adherent will have such a non-team player reject the spirit of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council (whatever that is).

FUN FACT: The Ancient Rite was the Mass of the Council. It was the only Latin Rite of Mass offered at the Council. Every single Latin Roman Rite Mass was the Traditional Latin Mass. So, I mean, like, um…

For myself, being born before “Vatican II”, I can attest to the fact of the celebration of Second Vatican Council. I accept that. It happened. Yep. Is that enough? Or must I say more. I can say a lot more.

If I did say more, I’m sure that I would be held to be a non-team player, not a man of consensus, a traitor to the spirit of the Council, a betrayer who needs to be bastonato by paternal ecclesiastics somewhere in Rome.

FUN FACT: The bishops at the Council, the “Fathers” of the Council, were allowed to disagree with sentences, paragraphs, articles, or even entire documents, even all of them. No one made a fuss about that. THAT’s the purpose of having a Council. Francis: EVERYONE MUST THINK LIKE I DO OR ELSE, DAMN IT!

Um… just… wow… That’s not the spirit of the Council, is it? If it is, it’s not Catholic in the least.

The spirit of the Council is all about the sycophantry of the non-thinking fear driven “yes men” with whom Francis surrounds himself.

  • Francis: “BASTA!”
  • Bishops: “We obey you! We worship you! You are god!”

Question: Why do I say these things? Answer: Galatians 2:11.

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Filed under Liturgy, Mafia, Pope Francis

Pope extorts vaccines: no vax no Mass. Holy Communion? Fuhgettabaddit.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is wp-16266483760135271761621520977666.png

You remember his three steps so far: (1) workers in Vatican City gotta get vaxed, or else they get fired, or get a meaningless job cleaning the wall of Vatican City with a toothbrush or something; (2) everyone meeting him on his trip to Iraq has gotta get vaxed, or they don’t get to meet him, because, you know, it’s all about him; (3) everyone attending Mass on his trip to Slovakia, those who want to go to Holy Communion, they all gotta get vaxed and show proof of vaccination. Using Jesus for extortion. God will not be mocked.

Our freakishly anti-Citizen governor of North Carolina just said that some State workers gotta get vaxed and show proof, or else they gotta get masked and get tested on their own dime and their own time every week, Federal Hipaa laws be damned, but I digress. Back to church extortion:

One of my parishioners was going to go to an “Emmaus” retreat run by the diocese, a retreat that is an official apostolate of the diocese, headed up by a bureaucratic department of the chancery called Latino Ministry. One of the priests of the diocese demanded that retreatants either wear a mask the entire time or show proof of vaccination. My parishioner, who spent a great deal of time and money to get to that faraway place, instead came back to the parish having had no retreat.

When people like the bishop of Rome strike out at Jesus, disrespecting Him, using Him for extortion, and when people like this retreat-priest strike out at the Lord’s Little Flock, disrespecting them… well… you have to know that Pope Benedict’s prophesy that the Church in the future would be very small, very tiny indeed, is now coming true. Priests who don’t get vaxed will be dismissed, the bishops viciously purposely leaving the Lord’s Little Flock untended. Have they no fear of judgment from our Lord who was Himself in the womb of His dear Mother for nine months, and who is surely indignant that these vaccines are researched and/or developed and/or tested on fully developed and absolutely healthy babies whose organs are ripped from their living bodies as they are ripped from the womb? I guess not. They simply go their merry way pushing vaccines even while praising, in some cases, pro-lifers protestations: “How cute!” they say.

Meanwhile, the question is never about whether or not someone has natural antibodies from God, which, as ultra-persnickety analysis from Israel says are six to seven times stronger than fake antibodies.

It’s all about “GET THE VACCINE!”, not about science, not about conscience, not about that person’s unrepeatable health circumstances which may prohibit them from getting a vaccine, not about real antibodies… No. It’s all about “GET THE VACCINE!” or else, damned be Jesus, damned be His Little Flock.

Too bad, that. Too sad.

But do you think such people continuously misleading others are going to change their minds even as they daily entrench in ruining the physical, economic and faith lives of the Lord’s Little Flock?

But this is what this is all about. Jesus doesn’t have a place in all of this.

But Jesus is God. He is King of kings, Lord of lords, Prince of the Most Profound Peace. His faithful will not be ripped from His hands, out of His Heart. He will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by the very fires of the ardent Love – how to say? – the ardent Truth of the Holy Spirit. And those who have denied Jesus’ image in the womb will be denied by Jesus.

Here’s the deal: All this chaos makes our Immaculate Mother Mary weep. Jesus doesn’t like that, not at all.

  • “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.’ Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” (Matthew 25:31-46)

There are no lesser than the “least ones” in the wombs of their mothers.

But they are vulnerable in the perspective of cowardly monsters who take advantage of their vulnerability… and have them murdered… Yep. I mean, you know, objectively speaking. Surely they must think of themselves as being nice.

Are they just like the mafia? Do they need an absolution? Do they need an exorcism? Just some questions that they’ll have to answer themselves.

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Filed under Coronavirus, Eucharist, Pope Francis

“My offer is this: nothing, and you owe me.” The Mafia, Jesus and the priesthood.

The larger context of this 6-second scene is that the casino needs a $20,000 permit. A Senator is trying to shake down the mafia guy by jacking this up another I think $230,000 – quite the extortion – even while the Senator insults both the mafiosi and their families. Hint: Don’t do either of those things, but especially not the latter.

The response from the mafioso guy is so predictable, and so perfect: “My offer is this: nothing.” And then the mafioso adds that it would be a wise move for the Senator guy to go ahead and himself pay for the $20,000 permit for the casino. Hah. The tables are reversed. Jesus does this all the time.

Hope is high that Jesus will laugh at the analogy which just must be made between Him and the mafiosi. I mean, if you’ve ever even once read the Sacred Scriptures, you’ll immediately see the ferocious irony, sarcasm, humor, the table-turnings (figurative and literal) all meant, of course, to put people back on the right track.

Look, I don’t see myself as being better than any mafioso if I am without the grace of God. We will all look upon Him, the One who is, who was and who is to come, the Alpha and the Omega, the Almighty, whom we have all pierced through with all our sin whilst He was lifted up on the Cross, yes, all of us, men of race, tribe, tongue, people and nation.

Having said that, yes, when I see someone trying to be even more mafioso than the mafiosi, well, they get what they deserve. I hope they also repent, but – yikes! – shaking down the mafia?!

About Jesus… the analogy here is that Jesus is the mafioso guy who says that His counter offer to the extortion is to jack up the stakes. The self-absorbed who use religion to make themselves heroes, feeling powerful in bullying, who say that they will kill Jesus unless He stops being… what is it? – more “popular” than them, well, they are answered in this way by Jesus: “My offer is… nothing.” But then Jesus will continue: Not only will I rise from the dead after three days, but if you are to serve my Heavenly Father in Heaven for eternity, you will have to be crucified to yourselves and to the world, and to do that, you will have to believe in the One whom the Father has sent into the world, you will love Him, and you will keep the commandments. Hah.

  • Jesus said, “Amen, I say to you, there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or lands for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not receive a hundred times more now in this present age: houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands, with persecutions, and eternal life in the age to come. (Mark 10:29-30)
  • But Father George, Father George! “A hundred times […] houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands” is not nothing! What are you talking about! Jesus’ offer is a prosperity Gospel! It’s all about this world, “now in this present age,” you know, besides “eternal life in the age to come”!
  • First of all, these were given up, and then when more are added, it is only with persecutions. It’s the ol’ “My offer is this: nothing.” And, by all appearances, it then gets worse. Have you ever been in a persecution? Any mafioso earner might temporarily spare the life of a recalcitrant priest who speaks out against the mafia because the arm of his grandmother was just broken by a mafia “earner” for not paying her “pizzo” (protection payment), but that “earner” might then kill a member of that priest’s family as a warning if that priest insists, you know, his brother, or sister, or mother, members of his parish family… His rectory might be burned down, lands destroyed. When Jesus calls us from death to life, when He calls a man to be a priest, wretch that he is if without the grace of God, the offer is this: nothing. And less than nothing, that is, in this world. Even the little we think we have can be taken away at any moment, all those “houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands” by way of the promised persecution. Ah, but then there is eternal life, not only for the faithful priest, but also for Jesus’ Little Flock for whom that priest was available to get out of the way of the One High Priest so that He Himself might lead them to heaven with His goodness and kindness and Living Truth.

Perhaps there are some who are offended at this analogy. But I rush to be vindicated by the Venerable Fulton J Sheen, who made a similar analogy, even more ferocious. The good archbishop made an analogy between Jesus and – get this – atheistic materialistic dialectical Marxist Communism. Yep.

  • What I recall from his conferences very many decades ago (distributed on cassette tapes by Keep the Faith), was that he described the demonic communist oppressors as totalitarian: they want to control your food and water, your medicine, your housing, you work, your possessions, your family, your friends, your conversations, your faith (none allowed), your very thoughts.
  • Meanwhile, Sheen went on, Jesus wants everything from us as well, citing the famous oft-recited passage:
    • “Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone! Therefore, you shall love the LORD, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength. Take to heart these words which I enjoin on you today. Drill them into your children. Speak of them at home and abroad, whether you are busy or at rest. Bind them at your wrist as a sign and let them be as a pendant on your forehead. Write them on the doorposts of your houses and on your gates.” (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)

The difference, he said, was that the communists do this with terrible violence and fear mongering, always torture, always killing, always persecution.

Jesus, he said, does this with love, so that we love Him in His grace most willingly, even in the midst of the persecutions of this world, with that love of His that is stronger than our sin, stronger that our temptation, stronger than death, bringing us to heaven, with grace turning to glory. Amen. And that’s something!

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Filed under Priesthood, Vocations

“Run away, Fr Byers, really far away! Stay away! You’re not safe! *They* are coming to get you!”

home alone GIF

So, all day Saturday, non-stop, I got recordings filling up the message bank on my phone, with the following paranoia, coming to me from someone who lives in Asheville and down on the coast of N.C.:

  • “They, the mafia, the international mafia, where you live, in Appalachia, they have pulse machines from international terrorists, pulse machines of wavelengths of bad stuff that can go through cars and houses and into your body and hurt you and make you tired and you’re not safe because they are coming to get you [lol: such a cliché] so you have to run really far away so that you feel better and where you’re not in danger from the pulse wavelength machines of the mafia from international terrorists. And you can read about it on [url] if you scroll two thirds of the way down and read about it there and it’s true and stuff and everything so go away, really far away, because you’re not safe and they are coming to get you, you know, those people who slow down by your house because there’s a speed bump and they look at your garden and tell you how nice it is or ask you what the Mass schedule is now but they are really slowing down and surely pointing international mafia terrorist pulse wavelength machines at you with bad stuff that goes through cars and houses and into your body and can hurt you unless you run away, really far away, and stay away, and you have to leave now because you’re not safe, and whatever you do, don’t get a 5G phone because everyone with a 5G phone coming this October will die because it’s a genocide of all people with 5G phones all around the world and everyone is going to die with 5G phones so don’t get a 5G phone because it’s as bad as the international mafia terrorist pulse wavelength machines with bad stuff and everything…”

All day Saturday, non-stop, and then on Sunday again, until the recording capacity on the phone was used up, which is annoying. Hospitals and nursing homes call my phone so that I can do Last Rites for patients, but they message bank is filled up so they can’t leave a message. I do shut my phone off when I’m saying Mass, for instance. The long messages have only stopped because I haven’t yet erased the messages already recorded. All too weird. And there’re motives for that, very ulterior motives. Too sad.

That person also happens to be smashing down a loved one. And that is like the mafia I know only too well:

  • “Sappiamo dov’è la vostra familia, capisce? Ci capiamo abbastanza bene o no, scarafaggio pretino che sei?”

The idea is: leave now, or else. Interesting, that. I’ll just take note of that and put it on some back burner that’s turned off permanently. Pfft. But I wish my loved one wasn’t being harassed. I get the idea that said person manipulating all this is trying to look like a paranoid schizophrenic for legal reasons that manipulate situations, meaning of course, that this person is just cruel even while very intelligent, but pretty much a sociopath, which isn’t legally insane, but, depending on how far such a person goes, can get one many years or lifetimes of years in prison. Too bad, that.

Meanwhile, Macaulay Culkin has some good acting skills in the gif above. ;-)

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Filed under Humor, Mafia

“Now you’ze can’t leave.” Line crossed.

The fuller scene is avoided because of continuous bad language, but what happens is that the Mafia crowd,  end the threat of the biker crowd who were trashing the Mafia crowd’s establishment.

The dark side lives for the time to hear those words – “Now you’ze can’t leave!” – crossing the line as often as they can on so many levels and in so many ways on so many occasions, pushing, pushing, pushing, until finally their dream comes true with some push back coming their way, not that the dark side enjoys that rather painful teaching moment, but relishing nevertheless the learning experience which no one else has been able to provide them throughout their lives, an instruction which they know they must endure in order to be brought out of their deep hell hole of escapism into rotted arrogance. We all know that that’s not the place to be. If only someone would help out.

Of course, we don’t want to hear those words – “Now you’ze can’t leave!” – just after entering hell. Anything that can get us to learn a bit so as not to go to hell is welcome, at least from the perspective of one in heaven who learned from his own smack down of whatever it takes, whether that comes from guardian angels or those who in the Lord’s providence are sent to do the necessary.

A word to the wise. This is true for everyone’s life. We all have a lot to learn. It’s best to avoid crossing the line and meet up with the Lord Jesus. He might have us thrown down from our high horse like Saul who would become Saint Paul, but Jesus means to bring us to heaven, you know, whatever it takes. He is the Lord of History. He’ll make the learning experience happen. It’s what we do with it that counts into eternity. It’s good to have our souls ready to go to meet Him at any time. A word to the wise.

If you think you’re immune, that you’re aloof, that you’re above all that, don’t. That attitude only proves that you’re ripe for a smack-down learning experience.

BTW and just to say, not all smack-downs are because we are lacking. Some are because we are close to our Lord. It is a powerful intercession for souls here and in purgatory when a soul who is close to the Lord is smacked-down, brought to nothing, humiliated, in pain and devastation, but remains in good friendship with Jesus. So, don’t curse those smacked down. They might be great saints. I call to mind that Jesus was smacked down, giving His life as a ransom for many, and that His good mom was in solidarity with Him regardless of Him being treated as a criminal on our behalf. The question is, are we also in solidarity with her?

pieta

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Note to “AM” in RH. Don’t send money. Appearances of money laundering.

money laundering

I got a comment the other day on the blog from someone I don’t know with a great deal of instructions about money this person wanted me to launder… err… um… move along to unknown third parties. Let me address this person directly:

While your intentions may be good – blessings upon you if that is the case – but you have to realize that what you want me to do with those untold thousands of dollars you want to send me could sound to anyone else like bribery or extortion in some elaborate scam… or… well… I’ll just say it, it could sound exactly like money laundering. I have no idea who the people that you mention are. For all I know – and I know nothing – they could be mafiosi or some reps of some cartel. Even if I did know them (and I could think of some names), I wouldn’t have anything to do with it. Do me a favor: don’t involve me or any priest for that matter. If it’s all on the up and up, figure out another way to do what you’re doing. If it’s not on the up and up, there’s an FBI field office just up the road from where you live. Sorry, but a priest can never be too careful these days. If fact, what you’re asking me to do feels just downright creepy. So, just think of another way.

Meanwhile, for some reason I am reminded of some people who visited the parish a few months ago, the ones with the Russian connections who, in the same place where you are, started decades ago to offer me huge sums of money to move cargo throughout Russia. Yes, I was already a priest then. That’s precisely why they wanted me, someone naive, who they could use, who will get in trouble for them, a stooge. Funny the coincidences one comes across. As you can see, I try my best not to get burned.

Come to think of it, where you are is also the place where someone stole something like $15,000 from me while I sent it to some cloistered nuns in South America so that they could purchase a new altar bread making machine as they supplied most of South America with altar breads. The FBI helped me get that back from a bank in the Cayman Islands. It’s good to have friends in the Agency. The nuns did get their machine in the end. I suppose the person involved got some prison time and lost his job.

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Going to Guadalupe? Pay the Mexican Military Cartel cash or die. It’s that bad.

ak 47 ammo

We had a wedding last Saturday in the parish. The couple went to Mexico for their honeymoon. They reported back that there are now military checkpoints everywhere in Mexico. They don’t ask for documents or other useless rubbish. They want money, only. If you refuse, they let you go, but they call ahead to inform the drug cartel in whatever area that you refuse to donate to their cause. The cartel stops you, and simply kills you as an example for others. This makes me upset inasmuch as my identity was used for arms transfers to the Sinaloa Cartel just when Joaquín “El Chapo” Archivaldo Guzmán Loera (now imprisoned along with his “godson”) started to terrorize innocent civilians, the government, the politicians, law enforcement and, finally, the Church.

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Filed under Drugs, Guns, Intelligence Community, Mafia, Military, Politics, Road danger

Meth-heads gift my parish a hacked up donkey. Such violence! My response.

venison

This is what I saw when I drove up to the church parking lot this morning. So, this happened just last night, perhaps very early on January 13.

These chunks of carcass, two back-ends and a back-strap, look like they come from a donkey (in which case I would take great personal offence), but are most likely from a field dressed deer, with the hunter using a chainsaw or ax in order to hack it to pieces. It’s not a pig as pig meat is very light in color. A few things…

  • The pieces of carcass are posed nicely, placed, not simply dumped, which is pretty insane, kind of like someone whose brain is fried by heavy-metal meth.
  • The pieces of carcass were situated in the exact center-center of the lower parking lot even though there is everywhere else (right there) to throw these into the woods or a ditch, so this is also pretty insane, kind of like someone whose brain is fried by heavy-metal meth.
  • I’ve run across this phenomenon before here in Andrews, NC, when we were looking for a rectory. One family seemed to be living in a meth-lab and there was a stench coming from the kitchen. Someone opened the fridge door and the rotten-meat smell went right through the house. Kind of insane, like someone whose brain is fried by heavy-metal meth.
  • The most logical explanation for this insanity is that a local meth lab has started up using our parking lot again at night. This will be the third one. Someone who wanted drugs but had no money was bringing payment in kind, hacking up their donkey (or a deer) for this end. But the meth-lab owner rejected the offering, which was already rotting as happens for meth-heads (see above). It really was pretty rank, with the smell staying in my nostrils for hours and Laudie-dog smelling this on me many hours later. Anyway, when asked what to do with the rejected carcass, the customer was told to place the remains in the parking lot as a gift for the church, thinking that this was a nice gesture on their part – no, really! – hence the pieces being placed nicely and not at all just thrown down or thrown away.

But what do I know? Nothing. And because of that, I was instantly reminded of this horse head scene from the original “Godfather” movie! If you have a weak constitution, don’t watch this 90 second clip, as it’s rather like the picture above…

Perhaps there are some readers who think Laudie-dog would have loved to eat that dead donkey (or deer), but I won’t give it to her, the reason being that I’m quite sure this is all meth-head related, and could be from the meth-lab itself, meaning that the meat is saturated with heavy metals, all very unhealthy. No, it was all tossed away appropriately.

All this brings back questions of evangelization. It’s all for Jesus. This donkey says: It’s all for Jesus.

donkey blessed sacrament

GEORGE DAVID BYERS - COAT OF ARMS - revision

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Brazen R & R before the mafia. I love it. Perhaps this priest has too much fun.

rest-and-recreation

Yesterday I had some free time to do some family visitation. “Let’s go out on the pontoon boat!” said the great Army veteran. “Great!” said I. So, away we went round about along far distant fantastic shorelines typical of these mountain waters. Just because we are in the mountains doesn’t mean that there isn’t more shoreline than most of the rest of North America. Think reservoirs and dams, the watershed of the entire South-East. Really, really nice. Lots of big money.

He said, “Most likely retired CEOs of major corporations.” I said, “Most likely the mafia.” Oh my, the stories I then heard. My response was, “People have been murdered for a lot, lot less trouble than they are making, and if they haven’t been in any accidents, then it must be that they are mafia. There’s no other way.” I know some mafia, and plenty of Italy’s anti-mafiosi. It’s all so typical. And while that is part of the world in which I moved about in previous lives, I guess I just didn’t want to see it here. It’s too beautiful here. I want to stay here, but I didn’t want this kind of thing around here. And now I’m getting to know why some of the locals don’t like “all those foreigners” coming into the county, with “foreigners” referring to people who have lived here even 50 years but who weren’t born here, but instead were born outside of the county, perhaps just the next county over. But, it makes life interesting. And it’s good to know who you are dealing with. It answers some questions.

For my part, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. In fact, I think I have too much fun as a priest, especially these last three years in this parish. I’ve often told the bishop over these last few years that I wish I could stay here until I die, but for this past eight months or so he’s started saying things like, “You’re not going to stay in that parish forever you know.” But, that’s O.K. I love everything about the Church, every possible apostolate, all the people, including the mafia of whatever kind. After all, Jesus loved them to death, right? We must be in anguish until as many as possible are on their way to heaven, knowing and living with the goodness and kindness and truth of Jesus, Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception, who will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire. Amen.

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(4) Father Byers at 12 years old: world-class kiddie-porn star

north junior high school

The necessary preface: this series of articles is written with specific people in mind, the string pullers and those who manipulate them, those who are one and two steps beyond the corruption mentioned by Pope Francis, those who are lost to a corruption of the corrupt, and beyond that, are brought into a kind of tangible evil. It is evident that these articles make their way into the hands of some few of this targeted group. The purpose is to offer them forgiveness, even after all that will be related here about those much more insignificant in the scheme of things than they are themselves. After all, those who are more important, the string pullers and their manipulators, take on the guilt of everything that goes on under their influence. I hope that thought puts the fear of God in them, and that they repent, for the Immaculate Conception’s Divine Son, Christ our God, will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire. Here’s a list of the preceding posts in this short series:

pinocchio stringsRight away I have to say that the title of this post is misleading, the bit about kiddie-porn, for this is about the filming of young and naked teenage boys evidently for the use of older homosexual men. But I’ll leave the title as it is for the sake of the main stream media mentality we have in this world, which calls even the abuse of adults “pedophilia” with the malicious intent of not ever speaking about the stats regarding abuse, that it is largely homosexual, that is, involving (post)pubescent young men. That would interfere with certain aspects of social engineering, of certain aspects bringing about a persecution of the Church. That social engineering is itself a symptom of the crisis of the identity of men after the total rejection of their fatherhood by society and by so very many in the Church as contraception and abortion and self-abuse and porn and homosexuality were condoned by the so-called pastórally minded among the clergy and episcopacy of the 1960s and 1970s. But then, as I say, then there are the ones I’m aiming this series at, that is, a certain class among them, a group which has learned to pull the strings on a global level, involving manipulators even more interested in money and power than they are. They are really quite few in number.

just me climbing treeAnyway, the swimming pool at North Junior High School would be a source of trouble time and again. When I was eight and nine years old, the older neighborhood kids were saying that swimming trunks were not allowed by the gym teacher. Everyone had to swim, and swim naked, saying that this had already been going on for some years. I would soon be towards the end of my twelfth year of age, and would be attending there myself. Many schools were starting to do this I was told, so no adult questioned it in what was now a Woodstock society. But don’t be fooled, all the kids hated it, at least at the beginning. They thought that the instructor was going after the boys. But I thought that I could handle myself, and there was no question that I had to go to school, and to that particular school. When the time came, I did go.

camera reel to reelWhat I found, at twelve years of age, was that the teacher’s office, with its large bay window overlooking the locker room, was always jam-packed with naked boys, whom he seemed to be totally ignoring. But then I saw a very expensive movie camera – very professional looking – set up on a large tripod facing the bay window from the locker room, with its on-air light lit up. He was filming the whole thing. The boys, so eager to be around him, were part of a “secret club” that – as one boy told me as if I were entirely stupid – could only be opened up to membership by the gym teacher himself.
Poor kids. They fell for what they thought was the excitement of immodesty and the sense of belonging to a group. I was disgusted by the kind of spirit that seemed to have blinded them to all but a tiny set of arrogant, self-centered emotions, which were lit up so brightly in them that they were blind to everything else, having no agility of spirit whatsoever. They were like deer willingly mesmerized by their own headlights, being shot down by an unscrupulous hunter. I knew that something was terribly wrong with all this, and was taken aback by the very public nature of it. It was the old trick of flaunting it like its normal so that people will think that it is normal. It worked in society then just as it does today. Some few of the kids didn’t fall for it. Neither did I. But what could a little kid do back in those days, so very different from today? Of course, there will be those who blame me for the whole thing. There’s nothing I can do about that. I thing those perpetrating the crimes should be the ones to be blamed, not the kids. Just my opinion.

studio camera 1960sI could try to avoid that camera. But the cameras were everywhere. There were more cameras throughout the locker room, with heavy cables all over the floor. There were cameras in the open room showers, and out in the pool area. There were very large movie cameras, Hollywood cameras I would call them, up in the empty swim-meet bleachers high above the pool, lights blinking away, another in an open storage room at the end of the pool next to the locker room door, and, it seems, below, inside the underwater window at the deep end of the pool. A mafia operation with the school being paid off to turn a blind eye? I think so. The gym teacher made everyone march around naked, sit in certain areas facing certain ways, sit in groups on the diving board, dive from the board in certain ways, and so on, like scripted scenes that would fit some sort of porno story. He even had us swim to the bottom of the deep end of the pool two at a time in order to fetch a block of heavy rubber matting, asking us to fight for it underwater. That’s where an underwater window was located.

just me 04He must have taken thousands of large reels of film over the years that this continued, from the mid-1960s into the mid-1970s. I can only guess that this was a fraction of the operation, another part of which was surely the “secret club” of the gym teacher’s naked boys. I can only guess that the fellow with the Cadillac Limousine mentioned in a previous article was financing all this. I can only guess that the school and police and the Feds had all been paid off to keep quiet. I can only guess that these films still make up by far the largest source of “kiddie-porn” still circulating among the perverted until this very day throughout the United States and around the world, with enough footage for millions of still photos, uncountable DVD’s, pay-per-views, and a multitude of internet formats. In other words…

just me 03I had been prostituting myself and didn’t even know it. I was a kiddie-porno star and surely I still am so today, with dirty old men doing unspeakable things while gaping at images of myself and all those other boys. It only hit home when it was too late. Abuse of minors is always abuse, because, no matter how worldly wise they are, or however much they think that they can take care of themselves (with me being in first place in that category), still, when one is going through a situation as a kid it really is hard to imagine the immense evil of some adults. Sure, I saw the cameras. Yes, I knew they were rolling. So did everyone else. But we just could not imagine for what reason. It just didn’t make any sense. None of us could fathom the depths of the evil at hand, and so mindlessly went along with it, especially because it all seemed condoned by the most trusted adults, the teacher and the school’s administration. I had told my parents about it. I think my dad tried to do something. But the power behind this operation seemed to be beyond anything he could do anything about.

pool lifeguard chairThere was some grumbling among the boys, but only one bit of real, though only momentary rebellion. The occasion for this was one boy being singled out. I felt so sorry for him, and angry and confused right along with him, as did we all. He was made to climb up an inordinately tall life-guard chair and stand there, naked, standing, the gym teacher insisted, with his hands to the side. This boy noticed the cameras up in the bleachers, and mentioned them, pointing to them. You could see the scars of hatred being seared into his heart, as if someone was dragging a dagger right through his chest, deeply, right through his very soul. Overwhelmed, he threatened to jump from the chair so that his head would hit the tile edge of the pool below, breaking his neck, smashing his skull open, killing himself. “No! Don’t do it!” we said. “No!” We just couldn’t believe what we were witnessing. We almost lost our voices. He didn’t jump, thanks be to God.

With that, the “game” was over for the day, even though there was still some twenty minutes left for this “class” in the school schedule. The gym teacher knew that if he didn’t let us go now, he himself was going to pay a heavy price. He let the boy climb down. I don’t know how the boy didn’t fall while climbing down, so much was he shaking with anger.

There was a big difference, thought I, between this gym teacher/kiddie-porno-film director, and my friend with the switch blade in an earlier post, though both may have had similar histories. I want to think my friend had remained with a shred of hope in his soul, even in his darkest moments, a hope which manifests the power of the grace of God in the midst of the hell some live through on this earth. The kiddie-porn director, instead, had chosen not to have any hope. It is how low the human soul can sink. But I will insist, even this kiddie-porn operation isn’t the lowest of the low. The Mafia isn’t the lowest of the low.

Sorry, but I insist: there are always others pulling the strings, and manipulating those who are pulling strings. Those are the ones I’m aiming this series at. And, yes, after all that, I tell them that mercy is theirs for the asking. No one can commit any sin which is so great that if one sincerely asked for forgiveness it could not be forgiven. Let this be a sign to you: I forgive you if you want that forgiveness. Don’t bring that offer with you to hell, which always comes sooner than later, much sooner than any time later. When you face all of eternity as you enter hell, you will know what I mean, and my words to you now will haunt you for eternity. Now’s the time to change your ways and go to Confession.

Now, having said all that, back to the more local culprits. I’m sure the statute of limitations has run out, or not? There are hundreds of witness to what I speak about here. So very many in the “secret club” of which I, however, was never a part. Would they know also of any murders, disappearances of kids? Time for them to come forward, but to what, if everyone was paid off, if this involves the big names in the Twin Cities and elsewhere? What I would like to hear is that huge stashes of kiddie-porn have been destroyed, with whole networks of abusers being brought down with all their servers brought down. That would be really cool.

Also, just to say, there were a number of kids in the area who went missing at that time. Open up those cases, my FBI friends, or are you afraid? Maybe I can kick-start the thing by writing a story for the local paper, and get a local reporter to interview whoever of the survivors of those years then comes forward to speak about it…

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(3) Father Byers at 8 years old: Taking *The* Mafia Kiddie-Porn Godfather for a ride

cadillac limousine

This is one of those stories which requires one to say before beginning that no one else is ever to try this at home. What I did was stupid, though it seemed really smart to me at the time. The purpose of repeating this bit of the autobiography here is send a message to some people who pride themselves a bit in their lust for power in all their evil doing. They have a need to understand that there are certain people who will uncontrollably do stupid things, putting themselves into grave danger, truly having no fear because of having, at any rate, the idea that they can get their way out of any difficulty precisely because they have no fear that burdens them. They will do what they need to do. And they do it. I must say that what happened in this story was very formative of my own character, and terribly instructive to me as a little kid about the way politics work regarding abuse. Seeing the powerful become fearful (they are always fearful) was spectacular. Very important, this. Those for whom I am especially writing these articles should take note: No fear. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Give it up and convert. Go to Confession! For the other articles so far, see:

north junior high school

When I was just eight years old, I had made a habit of going swimming at the local Junior High School. The pool was opened up to younger kids like myself, at night. It was a pretty good hike to get there, three miles, at night. Bikes were impossible in Minnesota in February ice and snow, at night. I know. I tried many times when it was way below zero, at night. It’s a good extreme sport, but it really was faster just walking. No one from my neighborhood wanted to brave the hike. I was alone for that part. But there were plenty of kids to meet there. The trip was worth it for someone who could swim like a fish, and I was just such a one. I think I once did five lengths of the pool underwater without once coming up for breath. I was a bit of a show-off, looking for some competition in this way. Competition, if it’s just for the sheer idiocy of it, is always hilarious to those involved, and is its own reward. I found out that half-crippled legs didn’t matter so much in the water.

Also, I was used to the cold enough to know that when it’s below zero and one’s hair is still wet, the walk home will be cold only at the beginning. Wet hair freezes into a helmet as hard as rock, keeping one’s body heat insulated. I would let my hair freeze for a minute or so, and then put my hat on over that. Only I would do that, of course. But one has to know how to survive.

On my way home from a great swim, but on a particularly cold night, way below zero on the Fahrenheit scale, and with eyes seeing chlorine halos around every distant light, I noted that a very expensive looking black Cadillac Limousine started following me at my walking pace, about forty yards out. He had followed me a couple of other times, but from about 100 yards out. This narrowing of the range was creepy. I was on the road since the sidewalk had about a foot of snow cover. But now, to escape, I ran up the mountain of snow separating the road from the sidewalk, which was set back from the road about twenty feet. I walked along the sidewalk, to no avail. The car stayed exactly forty yards back. He knew what he was doing. I was just at a point where the sidewalk ended in front of a deep, culverted ditch that was being filled in with building demolition, parts of brick walls and great slabs of cement floors, with jagged metal I-beams that poked through the snow and ice with dark menace. I stared at this, imagining myself escaping along this impassable route, but being put off at the thought of freezing to death with a broken leg a half mile from the road, not to be found until the following Summer, if ever.

plowed snowI jumped back out on the road, right where my stalker would be able to grab me. Back in the day, there were no houses in any direction for about a half a mile along that stretch of road. The field next to me, blanketed with about three feet of snow, up to my chest at that time, stretched all the way to a forest about three miles away. It was pitch dark. I thought I was dead for sure.

And yet, if you can’t run, you can fight, even if you are only eight years old, as I had learned some months previously. I was braver than I was smart. I turned and walked straight to the car and, when offered a ride – just as I thought – I took it. This seemed stupid even to me, but it also seemed like the only option, and so, therefore, smart. I thought I was going to end up in the car one way or the other, but if I took the initiative, the psychological dynamics were such that I could have the upper hand, at least for a while, until I figured out a definitive escape. What a stupid eight-year old! But I was filled with adrenaline once again. And I had not forgotten the bit [mentioned in an earlier part of the autobiography] about letting people hang themselves if that’s what they wanted to do. I learned later on what our Lord did with Judas.

This fellow in the Cadillac Limousine was perhaps in his thirties, and may have been merely the driver for someone else somewhere else. His job for the evening was just to collect kids. At any rate, he knew his business; it was clear he had done this before. Today I would conjecture that his boss was the kiddie-porno king of the world, with no one equaling his volume of kiddie-porn even today. But, maybe he was the godfather. Those were different times. But I’ll get to that in the following article of this series. At any rate, this fellow interrogated me about exactly where I lived in town and then what my name was. When he heard the name, he asked me to repeat it, again and again. I told him, and said that my dad had been the mayor of the city (of 48,000 people at the time) and was now an attorney at law, and also worked at the State Legislature, and headed up the biggest law firm in central Minnesota. He asked me repeatedly if I was sure that was my father. Sure? I almost broke out laughing. But instead I also mentioned my uncle by name, since he was the chief emergency responder in the city. At that point, he stopped the car abruptly, right there on the icy street, far from anywhere, at night, way below freezing, commanding me to get out. I mocked him with a sing-song voice, saying he could meet my dad if he wanted to drive me the rest of the way. That wasn’t very intelligent on my part, but he sped away, thank God. I tried to get the license plate number, but it was too dark. I was dumb enough to be a bit too happy with myself, having gotten 1-1/2 miles closer to home in a nice car. I had no idea that I had been in most grave danger, out of which few come out alive.

I wonder how many youngsters’ lives he had destroyed and is still destroying. I wonder if my ever so troubled friend had been a victim of his. I told my parents right away, and my dad got on the phone immediately. I can only think that this fellow was run out of town for a while, but, in those days, I suppose, only that. The kiddie-porn operation was so massive that very many people had to have been paid off to look the other way.

Just when you think you’ve run into the ultimate evil, you find out there is something even worse. It would be a grave error to think that the politics of abuse, the string pulling behind the scenes, is simple. It’s not that it’s all so much more complex than money and the lust for power along with a perverted, inverted lust for lust. Instead, the difficulty comes in being put off by thinking that there can’t be anything more evil than what one has already found. But that judgment of the state of affairs does not then take into account the passion and death of the Son of God Incarnate. If He suffered like that, things really can be very, very evil. But that’s when we see Jesus’ mercy shining most brightly. O.K., so, my participation as a kid in kiddie-porn up next. Stay tuned.

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