Tag Archives: Military

Fr Byers, the FBI investigated you how many times? We want files! My real ID.




cia memorial

[[ This is put up again for a reason, years after I put it up originally, and with some revisions. ]]

Here’s the high pressure repeated request from a self-described [ex-?]CIA guy who’s now […] as cover: “Father Byers, the FBI investigated you how many times? We want files! Who are you, anyway?”

Playing along with this kind of interview, um… interrogation… can be fun for me because I like nostalgia, a lot. He baits and is thus baited back, a counterintelligence dance: which investigations do I know about, or do I know what my ID really is? Who am I anyway? ;-)

The short answer to the question about who I am and how many investigations there have been on me is this: I’m nobody. And I don’t know how many investigations. Maybe just one, as in lifelong and continuous. I would dearly love to see those “files”.

The [ex-?]CIA guy’s question (going after me and my parishioners incessantly) is incomplete and therefore inadequate. Not so smart. He said he only wants files merely from the FBI? I mean, go ahead and include the CIA (“Dedicatio par aevum” memorial pictured up top, but I guess he would already have those…) and DEA and BATFE and DHS and ICE and TSA and, most importantly, Counterintelligence for Consular Services at the Department of State and Diplomatic Security in Rosslyn. Be sure to include the dozen and a half other groups. In fact, include all those groups who were subpoenaed but who refused to answer the questions of Jason Chaffetz’s congressional investigation into Fast and Furious. Jason was ignored even though he was Congressional Chairman of Oversight. So, good luck with that, especially since I’ve been told by Main State that anything related to me has long been destroyed, the normal practice upon being placed into a perpetual interdepartmental program. Go ahead and ask for such files. Just know you might be asked, with polygraph, why you’re asking. Could be a career ending move, or send you to prison.

My rap sheet: No felonies. No misdemeanors. Ever. Nothing pending. Nothing ever having been pending. No courts. No settlements. And nothing having been “wiped” from the record. Well… There are some things that may have disappeared from my rap sheet as one sheriff told me when I asked him about it – disappeared things such as being pulled over for not wearing a seat belt when I was constantly starting and stopping to deliver meals to the home-bound for the soup kitchen. The cop admitted later that he ticketed me for purely political reasons. Anyway, that citation was, like, back in I think 2012. I found out at the court house that no one knew enough to grant permission about the statute at the time that permitted no usage of a seat belt in such conditions of constant service deliveries with permission. I can recall other times getting pulled over, like when my sister was teaching me to drive when I was twelve years old in 1972 (going on five decades ago) and I ran a trick stop sign that was posted inches behind a light pole so that it couldn’t be seen. Other occasions do come to mind. For instance, I remember I was going a little fast – like 5 miles over – in making the 1000+ mile trip to my dying dad’s bedside some decades ago. You get the idea.

A longer than short answer: I guess it would take an autobiography to even scratch the surface. I’ve had a pretty wild life. There was a time when I’m guessing that for a short while I was a most researched person in these USA. But, what do I know? That’s just a guess judging from the blog stats of hits from named and therefore not much secured servers of pretty much every intelligence HQ in these USA and around the world. You know the drill: USAIC, NNIC, DHS, DOD, DOJ, BATFE, IRS[!], SSA[!], FBI, CIA, Interpol, The Hague[!], etc., in so many centers for each all around, making the stats fly, scrolling quickly off screen, zip zip zip. I should see if I still have some screen shots from years gone by. Probably anomalous interest, right? If these were the named hits, I have to wonder what the blind hits were. It is what it is. At any rate, let me guess about a few incidents which may have instigated Federal research on yours truly now and again.

  • It’s just now just over four years ago in late 2020 since I’ve received my concealed carry handgun permit here in North Carolina, which has (in some cases by far) one of the more stringent series of local, state (SBI) and federal (FBI) background checks in these USA, a fact opening up North Carolina to reciprocity in most states of these USA. North Carolina even adds what amounts to presently illegal (because of duration, many months) checks into mental health. No records of that for me.
  • I got my Gold-Star driver license / “Real ID” when that was a thing and had to renew again in time for the election. This involves some pretty stringent background checks as well on Local, State and Federal levels.
  • I’ve been fingerprinted and checked all over the world, not for any particular reason that I could put a finger on, as it were, outside of association and location, you know, just because I happened to be in terribly dangerous places really a lot with lots of terribly dangerous people, people who have killed really a lot of people, or who are in charge of the militaries of their countries, et al. So, it finally becomes the ol’ “Who are you anyway?” kind of thing, literally, pretty much everywhere. Embassies literally ask that question in frustration, not being able to get a grasp of what good old Diplomatic Security can do. Sigh. I mean, it’s all I can do not to laugh out loud. It’s so predictable.
  • I’m still thinking about gathering some dates and info and documentation so as to sign up in the near future for Global-Entry, a jacked up version of TSA pre-check which involves checks even more stringent than for the NC firearms checks. This was still a thing in June 2020, except of course for uncooperative New York: see the CBP website. G-E involves checks against criminal and law enforcement indices (Federal, State, Local), customs, immigration, agriculture, and terrorist indices including biometric fingerprint checks and a personal interview (That‘s surely a well experienced interrogator). All the checks are not listed here. It’s a pretty long, exhaustive list. Fun!
  • Just because of past lives, as it were, I’ve recently called in some items related to financial groups and terrorism to, for instance – depending on the subject – Main State, Liberty Crossing Campus, the FBI. You can’t do such things without first being extremely thoroughly vetted by the FBI from multiple locations and on all sorts of levels. That particular and fairly recent investigation took fully two months: I was cleared by all FBI research centers spread throughout these USA and… So, fine. These series of checks are so comprehensive that they pretty much add up to joining any of our institutes or agencies minus the polygraphs. Thoroughness cannot be underestimated. Oddly, the guy taking the financial case wanted to know about terrorism. I mean, he asked about it like a half dozen times. Oh, I forgot, terrorism and financial malfeasance often go together. My bad. I finally told him to launder such amounts of money usually involves terrorist groups and, therefore, their financing. He knew I knew, and it all went forward.
  • Of course, Main State and the FBI do not put one on a perpetual interdepartmental program for no reason. It costs them resources, financial and personnel, who have to track me and, to them, my boring life. My consolation is that there’s a tiny chance that they will be inspired by at least some of the things I write. Once you’re on a program, you’re on. That’s it, forever, as the FBI strongly insisted with me, drilling this into me, way back in 1996, four years after Main State insisted on this with me in 1992. There’s no way off as there’s nothing remaining after destruction of files [Ooops! There goes those “files” the guy mentioned at the top of this post was is pressuring me about!] in order to base a new decision upon. It’s like the seal of confession. Even if the penitent gives you permission to break the seal you can’t break the seal. Someone could be putting him/her under some sort of coercion to request such a thing against his/her will (regardless of what he/she says). The information doesn’t belong to the priest. It belongs to Jesus. The same here: even if I request to get off the program I cannot do so. It’s beyond unmasking. It’s frustrating. There are summaries only with the Secretary of State and the Director of the CIA. Part of the program is to be “accompanied,” even in a terribly annoyingly obvious way, especially at airports and inside airplanes (as I was forewarned about). In analyzing this, the guy I call “The Guy” [an actual CIA guy] told me that this is meant to send a message to the idiots: If you mess around with this program you will be stopped. However annoying this can be, it’s also kinda nice. This started decades ago, perhaps when I was a teenager, in the mid-late 1970s. I need to write more about it. As mentioned above, Diplomatic Security on behalf of Counterintelligence for Consular Services established someone with secured alternative identities, as they do, the problem being that it’s my identity, that being convenient, as that guy is like the same age and looks like me, and still, after a lifetime, has my life experiences in the countries where I’ve been, and, as far as I can tell, many of my languages. He works for them. I’m groomed as the fall guy. This is the case for thousands of people in these USA. The difference with me is that I found out.
  • More recently, seemingly in April of 2018, this was all jacked up a bit. Already being in the area for something else, I had gone to FBI ATLANTA to talk about options for that perpetual interdepartmental program mentioned above. I was delayed for some twenty minutes from approaching the security building, that is, until CTU Virginia showed up. We parked together. The last two spots. He accompanied me twice to the security building (as I forgot my passport and had returned to my car to get it). He delivered a printout and entered while I was told to just go to the window. That printout was given to the agent who looked at it, looked at me, looked at it, looked at me, looked at it, looked at me, set it down, shoved it toward me and said that he has no one presently there who can speak to this. I was able to read the author’s name and the provenance of the printout, DOD DARPA. Good old nerdy DARPA. They created some mathematical complexities using massive amounts of intel that they’ve categorized and turned into that which is actionable in the field for whatever “target” they have on “the list.” That, of course, makes me, again, one of the most highly researched people in the world. Huge amounts of resources are used for such targets. Just Google “DARPA COMPASS”. I assume that this, in my regard, is simply meant to assist whomsoever in my being “accompanied” (to use Pope Francis’ terminology). As I’ve written previously, I once told the guy who was established with my identity (yes, I’ve spoken with him) that I regret the cost of such accompaniment, but he instantly cut me off before I could even finish to say that such costs are entirely negligible in view of the scope of the entire program. He cut himself off half-way through “program”, knowing he said too much.
  • I’ve been involved in one way or the other in numerous terrorist incidents [always on the right side of things, mind you], but enough to be further investigated through the decades by a number of countries, including the Holy See, Italy, these USA, Australia and, with some intensity at the highest military, intelligence levels, Israel. It is what it is. Try asking for their files on me, you know, like in המוסד. Good luck with that one too. I mean, would they give you something that had nothing to do with the real file? ;-) Either way, when you get those “files,” [pfft!] share them with me! Baiting for leakers is fun. I might even find out what is held to be my real ID. This quickly disintegrates into rabbit holes of counterintel mind games until, gaslighted, one can’t remember who one is anymore:

Having been trained into some basic counterintelligence as a teenager by a very special individual, I’ve never done the Jason Bourne thing. I never had to. In all of this, I apologize to sincere and patriotic agents of all our military and intelligence and law enforcement agencies. I poke fun at myself. I don’t mean to poke fun at you.

Meanwhile, to repeat, the reason for all the investigation thing is not because I’m special – oooh! special! – No. I’m a nothing. Nobody. And that’s the reason my identity was so conveniently used. I’m utterly expendable, truly nothing. I don’t count as a citizen of these U.S.A. I mean, the FBI were adamant about giving me an alternative identity so that I, as Father George David Byers, and a citizen in good standing, would just be disappeared. No more priesthood, no more family, no more decades of studies, all in favor of the guy who works for them and for whom I’m merely the fall guy.

I hope to be a citizen of heaven in future. You gotta have hope, right? The original sin in which I’ve post-hoc participated, and all my own sin, is all written out in the wounds of the Divine Son of God, now risen from the dead. It’s in Him that we find our identity as redeemed and saved so as to walk in humble thanksgiving in His presence, in His friendship. Saint Paul speaks of this as the Body of Christ, Jesus being the Head of the Body, we being the members. That’s the ID I want to have. Jesus is the One. He’s the only One. And He’s the one to judge us, who we are before Him. He will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire.

But you can’t get to know Jesus and know who you are, your “real ID” – Jesus’ love and truth and integrity – until you go to Confession. A lot. With sincerity. I do. That’s who I am: just another soul who goes to Confession, and no investigation will be able to provide anything more. Why? Because I know the following and so should we all:

Psalm 139 For the leader. A psalm of David. Oh LORD, you have probed me, you know me: you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. My travels and my rest you mark; with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, LORD, you know it all. Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me. Such knowledge is beyond me, far too lofty for me to reach. Where can I hide from your spirit? From your presence, where can I flee? If I ascend to the heavens, you are there; if I lie down in Sheol, you are there too. If I fly with the wings of dawn and alight beyond the sea, Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand hold me fast. If I say, “Surely darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light” — Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one. You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, so wonderfully you made me; wonderful are your works! My very self you knew; my bones were not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret, fashioned as in the depths of the earth. Your eyes foresaw my actions; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be. How precious to me are your designs, O God; how vast the sum of them! Were I to count, they would outnumber the sands; to finish, I would need eternity. If only you would destroy the wicked, O God, and the bloodthirsty would depart from me! Deceitfully they invoke your name; your foes swear faithless oaths. Do I not hate, LORD, those who hate you? Those who rise against you, do I not loathe? With fierce hatred I hate them, enemies I count as my own. Probe me, God, know my heart; try me, know my concerns. See if my way is crooked, then lead me in the ancient paths. (nab)

These days people are talking about the FBI going through the files of priests at chanceries. Great! Have at it! Get that trustworthy counterintel guy who did up personnel for the FBI before being the fall guy… what’s his face… oh yeah… Peter Strzok. So, not so great then. So…

These days people are talking about the laity going through the files. Great! Have at it! Hopefully some kind of competence is involved, like law enforcement investigators. But people don’t like police these days, did you notice? So…

These days people are talking about any and all parishioners going through the files of the priests of their parish. That would be a real hoot. I can hear it now: “Father George chose blue as his favorite color on his million-question psych exam instead of yellow even though he’s got off the charts leadership skill sets (which would have to be yellow[!]). So, Father George has got to be lying. But why?” Meanwhile, I was thinking of Jesus’ good mom, who is depicted with blue because of the meaning of her Jewish name. That might be said to be ideological but it is sincere, and therefore not a lie. And blue is my favorite color anyway.

You want to know about my life? You sure you got the right guy? Have at it. But, I say, and so should we all: Jesus Christ, you are my life! Jesus is the One who is forgotten in all of this. Always forgotten. Jesus is not there in faithlessness. Jesus is not there in investigations. Jesus is not there in any solutions proposed by fallen human beings at all. I insist, and so should we all:

Jesus Christ: You are my life!

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Filed under Intelligence Community, Law enforcement, Military, Terrorism, המוסד

Georgia National Cemetery: Full Honors

One of our parishioners who died toward the beginning of Covid-19 lockdowns (not from Covid) could only have the full burial rites (Air Force leading up to the Church rites) carried out just now, in November. We’re talking Georgia and the military, not my parish.

Being early at the cemetery, there was time to slowly go round about the cemetery. Oh my. The following scene is repeated again and again and again. Everywhere. Those who hate the flag, who hate these USA, should come here, to any national military cemetery, especially when all the flags are out at all the tombstones. But they aren’t worthy to do that.

As always, I got totally choked up finding it very difficult to compose myself during the folding of the flag. It was as if the flag represented everyone in America, everything good for which we recite the pledge as one nation under God, and in particular the veteran who had served all at great risk to himself. We’re talking tenderhearted affection by the military. Especially difficult was when the Airman went down on his knee before the widow, offering her the flag while starting off with: “On behalf of the President of the United States…” The widow had tears streaming down her face…

Afterward, we all trundled off to some old parishioners who had moved nearer their kids quite near the cemetery, all good friends. He was at the top of acquisitions for the Air Force. Quite the reunion of old friends and parishioners. A sorrowful day, but a good day. Thanks be to God.

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Filed under Death, Military, Patriotism

On the road to jail for Bible study, a flag was to be seen

A flag for each local veteran for Veterans Day. And, of course, we also honor those who laid down their lives, those whom our living veterans remember. Hail Mary…

Meanwhile, the Bible study continues. An odd Bible study, not because the participants are all prisoners – for Jesus has come to set us all free from the bonds of sin and death – but because there’s quite the constant of change, as it were, what with those who are there for a day or two, those who are transferred out to other places, the new faces each session.

And isn’t that the way for us all. We may only get one chance to help someone get to know Jesus this very day. Just once. We can make it count with our angels, with the grace of God, with our Blessed Mother. Hail Mary…

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Filed under Military, Prison

Cop chaplain’s Glock, Back the Blue & 2a T-Shirts, Deescalation

We live in a time of anti-God, marxist bullies, whose BLM Antifa style fascism (yes, they reflect each other), whose primary method of anarchism is meant to bait law enforcement officers into being ambushed, wherein no matter what happens, it’s the fault of any authority other than their narcissistic selves. The entitled bully’s is reaction to authority, which is, then, by definition, no identity at all:

  • Identity politics is about being devoid of identity. There is no self-respect, no respect for others, no respect for God our Creator, no respect for the natural law or any law other than the absolutism of one’s personal relativity to oneself, which is nothing. Yuck.

Assassination of law enforcement officers is the “order” of the day, with such assassinations celebrated by all criminals who entitle themselves to blind obedience of their rich masters who pay them slave wages.

There’s a political party which celebrates such as this:

No apologies from this Catholic-priest-law-enforcement-chaplain: if I saw someone pumping bullets into law enforcement officers who were just minding their own business, I wouldn’t bother with any failure drill (two to the body and then one to the head if the threat weren’t yet ended), but I would rather just do a quick double tap to the head. Yes. No time to waste, especially with someone who looks like they might well be wearing body armor. Of course, then, as the priest, I would conditionally absolve the perp, you know, while calling in the “Shots fired!” and “Officers down!” and EMS and LEO assistance required. One hopes there will always be time for deescalation techniques. One hopes that one can use the old “continuum of force” fairy tale made up by someone who has never been in the field.

But encounters don’t always go very slowly, and are not always subject to a half dozen steps bringing one within rules of engagement, you know, greeting a person who then runs, who then resists arrest, who then gathers a crowd interfering with the arrest, who then assaults the LEOs with stones and bottles, who then grapples with the LEO, who then uses deadly force on the LEOs. It can go from zero to one hundred in less than a nanosecond.

It is expected, nevertheless, that the officer, while pumped full of bullets, will call social services to calmly talk the perp down at all of these stages, waiting an hour or two for the nice social worker to show up, that is, after a few weeks when messages are retrieved during these Covid-19 zero service, zero office hours difficult period we are going through in these USA and around the world.

When it goes from zero to a hundred in a nanosecond, there’s no time for this kind of BS. No deescalation techniques. No coping mechanisms. No offering of lolly-pops and cotton candy. No time.

There’s a political party which demands that the criminally insane be allowed to murder whomsoever they want, but especially law enforcement officers:

No apologies from this Catholic-priest-law-enforcement-chaplain: if I saw someone repeatedly plunging a Bowie knife into any law enforcement officer who was just minding his or her own business, I wouldn’t bother with any polite discourse, using words like sir or miss, or please, but I would rather just do a quick double tap to his or her head. Yes. And that’s even if I knew the guy or gal was criminally insane. He might not be personally responsible for his actions, being criminally insane and all that, but that doesn’t mean that the threat shouldn’t be subdued. We live in a fallen world. It’s not the officer’s fault or my fault if unjust aggression is afoot. It’s all very sad. I wish it weren’t so. The one who assists in lessening the threat is also a victim. Who wants to carry that event around in one’s soul for the rest of one’s life? Nobody. Deescalation IF POSSIBLE.

Meanwhile, I’m patriotic and I’ll tell you this, there’s only a small percentage of those in America (whether citizens or paid foreign terrorists) who are like that. Most people are like those I met on the day off yesterday. They were happy for me to take pictures of the backs of their T-Shirts:

I make it a habit to have lunch on the day off with another priest at this particular restaurant in the middle of absolutely nowhere. I don’t think I’ve ever been here when there hasn’t been some law enforcement officers, or spec ops guys and gals. This is the order of the day in this back-mountain region of Appalachia. There is no harassment of those dining here. ;-)

The other week as we were leaving that restaurant, one such guy threw out a greeting to me, and I made the observation that he had a tattoo of a very unique American Bald Eagle on his forearm (stating the extremely obvious), but I asked what the symbolism was, expecting something about that stylized eagle being the logo of a particular military group. He hesitated a couple seconds, perhaps not wanting to share anything like that at that moment while trying to eat with his wife (I’m so imprudent, but he started it), but he then exclaimed that it stands for “Freedom!” I laughed in joy and wished him a “Be safe!” as he did for me.

Look, I realize that this is not the experience of those who live even just down the road from me in Atlanta, where, as in so many other places, people are accosted while quietly eating in a restaurant, their meals thrown on the floor, getting spit on, insulted and shrieked at, their tables and chairs being overturned, and even elderly people being smashed to the floor and beat up by uncontrollable mobs. Let’s see… that would be defined for the elderly as at least grave bodily harm. I’ve seen what an intracranial hematoma can do to people – like a 66 year old parishioner of mine. She died pretty quickly after that, but only after tortuous suffering.

That kind of assault, threatening grave bodily harm or death in some circumstances to be evaluated, would also be a threat which would have to be confronted, though such a confrontation would surely – at least with me, I hope – be able to be wrought in such manner that deescalation of unjust aggressors would immediately ensue. These kinds of perps are such cowards when anyone confronts them. Just use the Jedi Knight trick by telling them – in no uncertain terms – that they will stand down, NOW! Yes. It does work.

Perhaps you remember that Jedi Knight trick:

Here’s the deal. We all want peace and joy, goodness and kindness, all of us, including and perhaps especially the perps. There’s no one more thankful for having been stood down than a perp who then has had an opportunity to think about it and repent. Praise the Lord, for His mercy endures forever. We pray for better times. We pray that we get through the next few months unscathed.

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Filed under Guns, Law enforcement, Military, Officer Down!, Patriotism

About your trauma recovery dear Father Byers… ;-)

A couple of articles have been published in recent years about terrorist suicide bomber Saeed Hotari.

There was nothing traumatic in all that. I was never much traumatized by my being shot at I don’t know how many times over decades and the ten thousand other “incidents” any one of which might throw someone into a trauma-recovery program, say, in North East Virginia, say, at Wolf Trap or at Liberty Crossing Campus. As I’ve often said however, bullets buzzing by one’s ears are certainly memorable.

In that more recent article linked above I mentioned that I carry. It’s a Glock 19, chambered. I like the Serpa Blackhawk OWB, for convenience, my stupid record (as I’ll never repeat that again) is 1.01 seconds for 2 to the “body” (spine) 1 to the head (brain-box) 25 feet out from the holster. Being in a state of prompt readiness to protect the innocent from unjust aggression is a virtue related to justice. Just to say it, mercy is a potential part of the virtue of justice, as Saint Thomas Aquinas points out in his commentary on the Sentences. Providing justice is a mercy. Yes.

I received a very clever comment on that more recent article. At first glance I thought this was a denunciation of carrying a Glock. But it’s not that at all. I didn’t let it out of moderation there as I wanted to give it a bit more visibility. I include my interlinear [comments]:

  • “We cannot rely on our own ability to fight evil [she’s referring to Peter slicing off the ear of Malchus when Jesus is being betrayed, as we’ll see momentarily] but must depend on God. [I agree.] How often we forget our survival is totally dependent on God. [Hey! I forget all the time, you know, not having the beatific vision and all that. Yep. I agree. I want to go to heaven!] Eventually we all learn [well, some of us] that the unstable world [crux stat dum volitur orbis: let’s just call it a fallen world and figure this out] cannot be the source of our security, of true peace of heart. [“My strength shines out through your weakness” – Jesus to Paul] I’m interested in how you square your essay with Luke 22:51. [I’m paraphrasing because of bad translations, but Lk 22:51 is this: Jesus said: “All of you let me do this!” And He touched the ear of (Malchus) and healed him.] Your words make it sound like you live your trauma recovery [with me being Malchus and all… (adn with trauma recovery being a very technical term betraying much background in the same] in a state of protection with a clenched fist. [That is, not trusting in God and full of fear, whereby Malchus steals Peter’s sword and I forge it into a Glock. Very clever, that. And lots of work to be able to spit that out just like that. There’s no way out except like this:] Meanwhile another hand, not yours or mine, reaches out in the Eucharist. [See top picture on the Eucharist. And I agree with that, to a point.]

Malchus was an enemy, a servant of the High Priest, literally dead set against Jesus. Malchus learned from the mercy shown him to be sure. It being that I’m the Missionary of Mercy of the High Priest, Pope Francis, maybe I too should learn something of mercy. But is carrying a tool to protect the innocent from unjust aggression a lack of mercy making me the enemy of Jesus?

Jesus was a special case. His reprimand not only to Peter but to all the Apostles (it’s a plural imperative) was not about the inappropriateness of what Peter was doing so much as it gave Jesus a moment to show mercy to the end. This was precisely like His reprimand to John the Baptist: Let it be so for now for the fulfillment of righteousness! When Jesus was baptized He was asking our Heavenly Father to treat Him as if were guilty of sin, not just like the charioteers and soldiers of Pharaoh who were drowned for their sin of enslaving the chosen people, but He was asking to be treated like He was guilty for having enslaved all in sin, all peoples of all times, from Adam until the last man is conceived. Jesus lays down His life, taking on the punishment we deserve for original sin and all our own rubbish, so that He has the right in His own justice to have mercy on us. The Apostles see this mercy with Malchus and off they go.

Is it wrong to protect oneself and others while trusting in God while doing this mercy? No. In fact, it’s a contribution to the virtue of justice.

Two points and excuse my theological language:

First of all, I don’t want any trauma recovery, particularly not anything from Northeast Virginia. Why not? Because I’m not traumatized enough, not yet. As some priest friends from Colombia told me, “We’ve done nothing; we’ve not lain down our lives for the brethren.” Get me away from all that is trauma recovery. If anything, my therapy will be to put my fingers into Jesus’ wounds in His hands and my hand right into the wound in His side, into His heart.

My saying, “My Lord and my God” will be my entire trauma recovery, good enough to take my right through torture and death. I deserve everything I get along the way of the effects of original sin and my own, including being available to the malevolence of others (there ain’t no Glock that’s gonna stop that). And because Jesus laid down His life for me and called me to be His priest, He deserves that I un-clench my fists so as to Consecrate His Body and Blood at Holy Mass, so as to provide Absolution of sin, so as to Baptize, so as to Confirm… Yes. But I still carry. In calmness. Tranquility. You know the drill: “Carry! And carry on!”

It is no trauma to follow up on Jesus’ invitation: “As the Master, so the disciple.” Why not? Because His strength shines out through our weakness. His love carries us in the peace and joy of the Holy Spirit.

Let me give an example. This very morning, while that lady wrote her comment, I myself at the same time was being stripped of my carry and locked in jail. I’m out now, obviously. But you have to know that I feel most at home among sinners like Malchus because I’m so like him. I make lots of friends in jail. I have a Bible study with the guys every week. I love it. What a joy. And I gotta say, lots of the guys are much better prepared in the Scriptures than were my seminarians anywhere around the world. Truly. I love it. We help each other out to get to know the Lord. Believe me, no protection or clenched fists inside the stone walls. No, no. It’s all about Jesus. It’s all about putting that ear back on Malchus. And about letting that ear get put back on me by those, you know, “sinners” and all that.

But, hey! Not to worry my interlocutor comment friend. Maybe you can help me with a bit of trauma recovery after all. There are some adjustments to the “recovery program” that I’m on – if you want to call it that – (DS or DipSec might have another name for all that), adjustments which I would like to be implemented, but I won’t write about that or say it over the phone. I need an in-person interview with someone, say, I don’t know, just up from the Rosslyn metro stop, maybe at the Campus… Can you swing that, maybe with CCS oversight? That would be really, really cool. Seriously, if you want to help me, that would go a long way.

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Filed under Guns, Intelligence Community, Interreligious dialogue, Law enforcement, Military, Missionaries of Mercy, Pope Francis, Priesthood, Prison, Terrorism, Vocations

I shot my IV+ ballistic armor (Chinese) *sigh*

Said to be ceramic/polyethylene composite. Just wanted to shoot a corner to see what would happen (see entry top left of the picture above). I did this after seeing a Demolition Ranch video on Chinese armor, some of good, some of it really horrible, as in just a thin sheet of Styrofoam!

I then find out that the American standards for this type of “composite” is that the hit has to be at least two full inches from any side, meaning that you’ll be missing out on a full four inches for both width and height, with anything hit in that huge area of the plate being deadly. Not cool. Having seen what happened I just went ahead and shot it dead center. Also not what I expected.

The rifle was a more recent version of a friend’s Ruger Mini-14 semi-auto with 18.5″ barrel. The corner shot was a simple 223, while the center shot was a green tip “armor piercing” (lol) 556. All legal in North Carolina btw.

Here’s a clearer shot of the “composite.” A super thin layer of “ceramic” (pfft) out front with a layer of fiberglass on either side of it, and then a heap of layers of polyethylene. Um… but… it was on the edge…

Let’s see a video of that so you get the idea:

Meanwhile, the center shot did catch the green tip 556, pretty much at the very last sheet of polyethylene, causing a huge bulge:

In the center of the back, that would about break your spine in half. Out front, it would pretty much break all the ribs and stop the electrical system of your heart, if it wasn’t already gelatinized. And that’s only a 556. Imagine a 30-06 black tip, which it’s supposed to stop. I really doubt that. And it’s supposed to be multi-hit. I really doubt that as well. Glad I checked it out.

I’ll be looking for a steel plate truly rated for level IV. Shooter cut. 10 x 12 as I’m a plus size guy. Curves on all four corners. Not easy to find. Anyone with any ideas?

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Warrior Poet, Alexander, Trump, Biden. UPDATE on this censured post: LOL!

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[The above is the beginning of the original post. It then continued:]

Then there’s this:

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UPDATE: At this point in the original post, the rest of the post was censured. It was only like five words of personal opinion that appraised my own intentions regarding Super-Tuesday, November 3, 2020, something like, “As for me: Trump 2020,” or words to that effect. And that was the whole of it. Those words of my personal opinion outraged a very censorious personage.

My patriotic instinct made me think that this smacking down of free speech was stepping over the line. Questions came to mind:

  • Upon ordination to the priesthood, do I have no personal voice in the public square?
  • Upon ordination to the priesthood, do I have zero Constitutional First Amendment rights?
  • Upon ordination to the priesthood, do I have zero rights in the Canon Law of this One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church?

So, what did I do?

  • I asked for some links to research and dear readers sent them in. Great! I’ve yet to go through all that, but I’m most encouraged by what I see at first glance.
  • I asked for some advice from some really smart people. I find out, of course, that no matter how good I think I am at analyzing stuff, there’s always someone much better at it than yours truly. The truth of the identity concerning the complainant against yours truly then finally hit me in the middle of the night. And then I laughed out loud. I didn’t see that snowflake’s communication to the one who smacked me down (but smacked down in such a friendly manner, which I appreciate!), but methinks that my conclusion about who the complainant happens to be is at a Zero Dark Thirty 100%:

Careful! There’s some bad language in that video. Maya (actress Jessica Chastain) is my hero. As she said in the script concerning the whereabouts of terrorist Usama bin Laden:

  • “It’s 100% he’s there. O.K. fine. 95% because I know certainty freaks you guys out. But it’s a 100.”

Hah. Yes. LOL. It’s the logistics of the communication made to me that convinces me, the when and the who of it. As pointed out by advisors, forcing that communication at that time by that person would be quite impossible even for really clever people heading up political campaigns. There’s only one person who, as the original complainant, could and would do this according to the time and manner of communication. Yes. I agree with that. 100%.

In the past, the complainant – in my Mayaesque opinion – a most tender entitled snowflake, has used the same method of having me smacked down, hiding in the background and having someone else smack me down, which is entirely unfair to the messenger. He’s a grown man. The messenger is a woman. He hides like a coward behind her. Now twice. That guy has got to stop this abuse of women. What a cruel guy. What a coward. All bullies are cowards. He should just put a comment in the post itself, or send me an email, as he has my email address. But no, he has to use a woman as human shield from the words which might come back at him, demonstrating how unreasonable he is.

The previous incident? He had written something about active shooters in churches, having it that people should just go ahead and die in all their hundreds, and that church-goers should never ever have competent and capacitated security at hand, having it that no one should ever micro-aggression terrorist mass-killers by supporting the God-given right to protect the innocent from unjust, mortal and being-delivered aggression that we’ve too often seen with the bully tender-snowflakes in this otherwise great country.

I challenge this coward to come out from behind his anonymity so we can discuss law of all kinds, natural, civil, federal, church, so we can discuss duties and rights, so we can discuss candidates for the coming election, comparing the most pro-death guy, the most anti-church guy, to the most pro-life guy, the one who has done the most to protect the free exercise of religion.

Let’s lay down some background:

  • What I wrote in five words about Trump in 2020 I wrote during my down-time, in zero official capacity as a cleric, not on any of our church campuses, but on my own private computer in all the privacy of my dwelling, with my own internet connection I myself pay for, disregarding what I can otherwise claim from the diocese. I didn’t do this from the pulpit, or on any parish campus, not Catholic radio nor in a Catholic newspaper. I didn’t use the church bulletin, which hasn’t been published this entire time of Covid-1984. I didn’t use any church function no matter where it might be.
  • The blog I write on is my own personal blog. I myself pay the fees. My blog has NOTHING to do with the parish. It has nothing to do with the Diocese. It has nothing to do, believe me, with the United States Catholic Conference of Bishops. It has nothing to do with the Holy See. Nothing to do with Pope Francis. I say all this loudly: look at the ABOUT page of this blog. I pay for the blog domain as well. I designed it myself. No one edits it for me. No one is required to read this. Almost zero people in the parish do read it. Those who do so only read it once in a while, well, except for one or two people. But even they say that they pretty much just look at the “Flowers” posts, wishing these were on Instagram. Never!

But, let’s start in the next post, if he’s willing to chime in, on the very specific IRS policy. But even prior to that, let’s discuss the fact that the parish has it’s own 501c3. I don’t have one myself. And I don’t use the 501c3 of the church. No. I pay my own income tax to the Federal Government quite apart from the parish, quite apart from the Diocese, quite apart from the Bishops Conference, quite apart from the Holy See. But I get ahead of myself.

For now, I’m just baiting this guy to show himself. I’m baiting him to throw theology of identity at me so I can smack him down about courts not going anywhere near any theology. Courts are interested in taxes, numbers, not in defining theological concepts.

Right now, I’m just shadow-boxing, as it were, since the accusation was not read to me by the messenger. It’s quite impossible to defend yourself when you don’t even know what the accusation is that is leveled against you in such a cowardly manner. However, the accusation is serious, and the polite messenger of the accuser told me how any appeal would go, who I would have to bring that appeal to. That was a threat, however nicely delivered on behalf of the accuser.

So, here’s the challenge to the accuser: send me a copy of your communication to the one who smacked me down (ever so politely) on your behalf. No, really! Be brave! For once.

I laugh out loud again. I’ve added a “Humor” entry to both the categories and tags of this post. Truly. I laugh out loud. I have really a lot to say about the morality of positions of both candidates. I will speak of those. A lot. As I say, he has no idea what he has unleashed. It’s the last thing he wants. It’s the last thing the society of his ilk wants. I’m indebted to him, of course, for I might not have done this unless it was for his misuse of women (which irks me altogether), unless it was for his anonymity to me. Thanks, bud.

For now, it’s time for me to offer Holy Mass and set about what might be a 12 hour saga of priest stuff with another priest. Such drama! I love being a priest for Jesus. And that’s the point, right? All for Jesus.

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National Purple Heart Day August 7

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purple_Heart

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Little kid then big kid trouble maker, goodness and kindness always

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George Byers Jr is the one with black curly hair wearing black with white shirt, just above center/center. Later in life from the Navy and USMC…

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Yes, that would be fully two Navy Distinguished Service Medals[!]. That would be two Distinguished Flying Crosses. Purple Heart, etc.

Other medals coming in from other countries and entities:

And then there are those coming in from the U.S. Army. They repeated the foreign and other medals (Korea and the at-that-time United Nations). However, there’s a third Distinguished Flying Cross. I like the number five for the Air Medal. That would be five in a very short period of time as he started out on being one of the craziest insane absolutely fearless get-it-done fighter-attack pilots in U.S. history. I’m guessing they lost track of numbers as time went on:

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I thank Beverly Elliot and (then) Congressman Mark Meadows (now Chief of Staff at the White House) for forcing the hand of both the Navy and then the Army for researching and providing this history of one of great American heroes, my dad.

What did I learn from dad? (1) Reverence before Jesus, whereby fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. (2) Fearlessness, whereby we are free to strive to follow good examples. (3) Zero political correctness (see both 1 and 2). (4) Service to others (see 1 and 2 and 3).

And then there’s dad’s rule number one, which he would instruct me by inserting my name in an oft repeated admonition and was pretty much his dying request of me:

“Goodness and kindness, George, Goodness and Kindness.”

I have the citation-accounts for the Navy issued Distinguished Flying Crosses. Wow. Wow. Wow. I like to know the citation-account for the Army issued DFC.

I don’t have the citation-accounts for the Navy issued Distinguished Service Medals. Those are issued by the President of the United States. Since Mark Meadows is now Chief of Staff at the White House, I should write a thanksgiving to him for having forced the DOD for the medals, but then go further and ask if he can get me the citations for the Distinguished Service Medals. There should be copies of the citations for those rarely given medals in the archives of the White House itself.

It’s good to honor one’s parents. It’s a commandment of Christ our God.

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On wearing T-Shirts to Church: Mercy, Military, humorous Patriotism

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The above is worn by our church musician. There’s also a bit of mercy to be had:

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And then there’s humor in all truth. I totally laughed out loud when I saw this:

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I don’t see any inconsistency with any of these with each other nor with what is happening at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

 

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Cruising with DoD Intel and a great law enforcement encounter at midnight

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Every seagoing vessel needs proper rope discipline.

Every seagoing vessel needs proper maintenance of sailors. For me, La Croix:

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Off we go into the magnificent reservoirs in the back mountains here:

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This was truly a gift to be away from the drug-violence of town. Thanks to our retired officers for this super pleasant outing. I had a great talk with the wife of the Navy guy. Interesting that her first question was pretty much verbatim what the “CIA” guy was asking to all my parishioners a couple of years back. ;-) All good.

We had refreshing showers of rain drops from a cloud a good half-mile or more away:

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Very nice. Irish weather, I call it.

Let’s test your situational awareness in this next picture. Can you find what’s out of place? Try! (Hint: It has something do do with the power lines.)

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So, here’s a bit closer:

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That’s an Osprey nest. You know, of Ospreys:

OSPREY

I love it.

Afterward, we had a very pleasant meal with their neighbors, also lifetime Military Intel. This has now become a yearly event together. I think I’m the luckiest priest in these USA. Having said that a number of times on this outing, I immediately made the caveat that should my guardian angel hear that, I might be in trouble. I might just be having TOO much fun. So I begged him to be easy with me, because I’m so very stupid and know nothing of the providence of the Lord Jesus…

As soon as I got back on the road to come back across the mountains, I was greeted by a good dozen law enforcement officers, blue lights filling the midnight forests. Cruisers were all over the sides of the road and they were standing right across the road with flashlights. Not very safe that. Not in these times. Anywhere else they would simply have been run over.

  • My windows rolled down, hands on the steering wheel, I said: Good evening, gentlemen. Hope everything’s alright. I gotta say that I’m carrying appendix.
  • You got a permit for that?
  • Yes sir. (I show it to him).
  • Driver license?
  • Yes sir. (I show it to him). Anything dangerous in the county tonight?
  • No, no. We’re just checking.
  • Thanks to all you for keeping up with law enforcement for us. We’re living in some really weird times. All respect for you guys, thank you.
  • A whole chorus of officers responded together: Thank you for that. Thank you.
  • Me: You guys be safe out here.
  • Them: You have a good night now.

THAT’s how to do up a law enforcement stop. Don’t be the sovereign citizen. Don’t keep your windows rolled up. Just comply. Answer simple questions like about the permit and driver licence. These were totally cool officers. It’s not a police state. We should be thankful that we have any law enforcement whatsoever. It’s a thankless job. But we all depend on law enforcement. So…

Thanks to our Military. Thanks to our Law Enforcement.

P.S. And, yes, there were plenty of questions from all about religious everything. :-)

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Cheetahs of the Homeland full throttle

Now extremely rare in the homeland of Israel, the Cheetah is this very day, this very hour, flourishing in Iran, fast as they can go. Just in time. Fancy that.

Cheetahs of the Homeland. Catchy name. I like it. It even reminds me of Homeland…

😎

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Coronavirus: Flags Half Mast and Full because this priest will NOT cancel honor. Still singing the National Anthem with Whitney Houston

Pictured above is Memorial Park which sits high above Andrews, NC, the very heart of Appalachia. The tradition in these USA and here in town is to lower the American Flag to half mast at sunrise. Mind you, this is a rebellious tradition wrought not by any groups or the town of Andrews itself, but rather of individuals who rightly have a sense of patriotism and lively respect for those who gave their lives for us. These individuals have, on their own dime, supplied the large size American Flag. Since they were preoccupied on Memorial Day, yours truly went up to recite the Pledge of Allegiance and some prayers for the honorable fallen and their families.

Those who could and would carry on the tradition were not available this year, and the town, I suppose, has been forbidden to schedule official ceremonies by insurance companies and lawyers trying to bow to the ridiculous, humiliating, oppressive, anti-Constitutional policies of the powers that be in this State of North Carolina. Personally, I cannot abide cancelling honor. I can’t.

By the way, the POW-MIA flag is also put at Half-Mast, as so many of our veterans died as POWs and so very many of our MIAs have, by this time, died…

After this, it was up to the cemetery to pray for the dead there, mostly teenagers by the way. Check out the dates on this tombstone: just 16 years old…

I was born in 1960. In 1976, when I was sixteen years old, a Sophomore in High School, I signed up for whatever state of affairs the draft had fallen into. A super-interesting article on conscription, the draft, selective service, who and what and when, is found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conscription_in_the_United_States. Keep in mind that the Paris Peace Accords had already been signed three years earlier in January of 1973, officially ending our involvement in Vietnam, though the fall of Saigon, actually ending everything, wasn’t until the Spring of 1975. The nice gentleman took my application but said that no one would be contacting me at this point. Too many politics were at play. I thank James above, and all those who gave their lives.

The flag had also been put at Half Mast at Holy Redeemer Church. The flags are meant to go Full Mast right at Noon. I left instructions at the church that our Noon Mass would be delayed by ten minutes, as I would be busy with the flags up in Memorial Park, but that they were to gather at the flag in front of the church for prayers for the dead and a recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, after which the Flag was to be put up to Full Mast. This they were happy to do.

I couldn’t resist also getting the history of these two guys from Andrews…

Our POTUS has an amazing speech, very touching, at Fort McHenry. If you want to know something about our Flag, watch this:

If anyone is offended by the Flag, go and read this post I wrote, which has been visited by pretty much every grade school, middle school, high school, college, university and specialized institute, as well as by so many in our armed forces and all sorts of branches and bureaus and offices of government, right up to the top:

National Anthem: Star Spangled Banner – Meaning of “hireling and slave”

But in case anyone is too entitled not to learn something, or is afraid of Whitney Houston, I include this all below:

The Star Spangled Banner is misunderstood and is rejected by many as our National Anthem.

Fake news about it continues. Let’s do some analysis:

O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:
‘Tis the star-spangled banner, O long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion,
A home and a country, should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps’ pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war’s desolation.
Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the Heav’n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: ‘In God is our trust.’
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

=======

The lyrics were written in 1814 by Francis Scott Key about the Battle of Baltimore fought against the Brits’ Royal Navy in 1812. The Brits just wouldn’t let it go, and had to engage again, and so lost again, almost thirty years after the end of the Revolutionary War. The Royal Navy would enlist mercenaries, the “hirelings” mentioned in the third verse, and enslave Prisoners of War to fight for them as well, the “slaves” mentioned in the third verse.

Why do I insist on this having nothing whatsoever even remotely to do with black African slaves when Key himself was a slave owner who lived long before the American Civil War? Because of the purpose of the song and what it is describing, that is, a particular night of battle in the harbor of Baltimore against the Royal Navy in which hirelings and slaves were employed in the battle by the Royal Navy, surely other Brits or POW American military.

Even if a tiny percentage of these hirelings and slaves happened to be black Africans, possibly most recently from the United States, the mentions of those hirelings and slaves wouldn’t refer to any previous status of slavery, but only to the slavery imposed by the Royal Navy on any POWs. To win this battle in Baltimore, there would be no interest in going to, say, Mississippi, and killing hirelings and slaves. To hold that to be the meaning of the words is simply ridiculous.

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Memorial Day Amazing Grace Bagpipes – Taps – 21 Gun Salute

During the Salute, some kid is goofing off crying out faking like he was shot. But it immediately struck me that most veterans killed in action were teenagers, just kids. This kid has the right idea. Out of the mouths of babes and all that.

I was upset that this year the kids were not allowed to place flags at the tombstones out of respect for their classmates and friends.

I’m heading up to the cemetery right now. It’s a good and holy thing to pray for the dead.

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Calm quarantine strategies, not panic

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First  of all, we are not in any kind of stage of a quarantine of any kind. San Francisco called for a State of Emergency, but that was just a cynical move to release Federal monies they otherwise can’t get at this time for sanctuary cities. It has nothing to do with any COVID-19 Novel Coronavirus. No. Demoncrats are self-centered jerks and want to cause panic.

And I don’t say we are any kind of stage of a quarantine YET. No. That also would be to panic. See above.

Having said that, let’s take the worst case scenario – a declared pandemic – so as to point out how to avoid the worst case scenario, which would not refer to any medical condition (more people dying from the flu or smoking or car accidents…), but rather panic, which would be the logistical cause of death for hyperbolically more cases of death. So…

  • The other week a reporter asked POTUS Trump whether or not plans were already in place for the quarantine of entire cities if the need arises. He answered yes.
    • I’m sure that if this were to be effected it would be done so by the National Guard before anyone knows, including all law enforcement, who will likewise be quarantined in place in their cities.
    • Immediately after the National Guard is in place for a no one in-or-out scenario, health officials and law enforcement will be privy to policies and enforcement and rules of engagement.
    • It would be extremely helpful if in the same announcement it was said that food delivery trucks to supermarkets will have drop off locations at the border of the quarantine and that other trucks from inside will later come to pick up that food and deliver it to local supermarkets.
    • Gasoline deliveries? I guess they would have to be made when the stations are otherwise abandoned.
    • It would have to be stated that utilities will continue.
    • Extremely severe penalties for price gauging and looting would have to be stated.
  • demon panThe worst possible thing that could happen is panic. In that case, there will immediately be home invasions of idiots looking for food, not because there is any lack of food, but just because of panic. This will be done by those who have already been spending all their money on drugs. And they are well practiced with home invasions. Not good.
  • Panic in this sorry world of ours – the mob mentality which eliminates all “inhibitions” like reason and goodness and kindness and courage and fortitude and justice and mercy – the eliminator of all that is good in the chaos of panic is the demon-god Pan. This is not the too-cute and effeminate Peter Pan of Disney, but rather the ancient demon of all demons, Satan, who, as Jesus says, is a murderer from the beginning. Panic is the worst thing that can happen.
  • What is most needed in a Pan-Dem-ic is to not cave into panic, to not cave into Pan-Demon-ium. Get it? Pan in Greek means all or everything or everyone: “Everybody’s panicking!!!!!!!”
  • To panic is to give reverence to the demon-god pan. Panic makes one a worshiper of Pan. Panic makes one a pagan, an idol-worshiper. “Oooh! Pan told me to worry and have anxiety and to panic, so, therefore, of course, ever-obedient to demons, I will! I will panic! I will! I will! // off sarcasm.
  • So, an examination of conscience is in order. What or who is the most important thing, person, during a pandemic? Christ Jesus. If we have our spiritual lives squared away, if we are actually looking forward to going to heaven, trusting in the mercies of our Lord, we will not cave in to panic, we will not worship at the feet of Pan.
  • For atheists who mock faith in the time of crisis as the opiate of society, know this, the only ones I’ve ever seen help each other out in desperate times are believers. This is especially true in Socialist/Communist/Marxist countries. You know that’s true. I’ve seen it first hand. Believers have extraordinary strength of love and reason because of the love and truth they carry about within them coming from God Himself.

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  • Where is God in all of this? Look for those who are trying to be helpful in all of this. Look at Jesus’ good mom holding God in her arms…
  • But why did God let this happen?
    • Let’s call to mind that original sin opened us up to all of this sickness and death and weakness of mind and weakness of will and emotions all over the place.
    • Let’s call to mind that God so loved that world despite our use of free will that He sent His only-Begotten Divine Son Jesus – basing mercy on justice – to stand in our place, the Innocent for the guilty, taking on the punishment we deserve so that He might have the right in His own justice to have mercy on us.
    • Let’s call to mind that God thus knows all about suffering, and all about combating panic and the horrific demon-god Pan.
    • Let’s call to mind that Jesus does give us the grace, His friendship, to be reasonable, to be calm, to be good and kind, not to panic, but to be helpful, pointing people to Him who is that love which is stronger than sickness, stronger than any pandemic, stronger than death, strong enough to bring us to eternal life, to our eternal home, where love and peace reign supreme. Heaven is our home and we are now – in this hell – in exile away from home. But we do have a home in heaven, and we right now carry about the way to that home, grace which St Paul says will turn to glory.

So, no worries then! Jesus, I joyously trust in You.

JESUS I AM

Meanwhile, I’ve lost 52.xx pounds on Keto so far, and I’m going off Keto soon, transitioning over to something more high protein and not neglecting carbs. Trundling off to Walmart grocery to stock up on non-Keto items, I noticed lots of almost empty shelves, just a few packages of oatmeal, a packet or two of lentil beans, that kind of thing. It looked like panic buying. That’s O.K. Those panic buyers are all set now and won’t be emptying out stores in panic buying. Don’t panic. Instead, drop off real dead weight that holds you back. Go to Confession!

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Quite the Happy Birthday e-card for both me and my dad. Wow. Good one.

Happy Birthday ecard

That’s Shadow-dog, of course. And that’s dad’s training plane some 80 years ago. The idea is that he’s flying up in the heavens now, wishing me a Happy Birthday. Our birthdays are only two days apart.

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The Boeing Stearman was a military trainer introduced in 1934 when dad – George Byers Jr., was just 10 years old. They were dumped on the public after eleven more years, 1945, just after WWII. But I’m guessing that only after a half dozen years an early training model would have been run into the ground, as it were, and the military would have sold some of the more battered workhorses to some enterprising farmers wanting to utilize a bit of the new crop dusting technology and who knew a crazy enough young lad like my dad who would jump into such a wreck. That’s me in my immense naivete saying that. I’m sure it’s not really that way.

BOEING STEARMAN YELLOW BIPLANE

I’m betting that if the truth were told, with the preliminaries of WWII gearing up over in Europe, our own military, very short on pilots, dumped some of the planes early on with the farmers, not because the planes were worn out, but for ulterior motives. I bet the deal was that the farmers would only train in young, smart, but crazy would-be pilots who would be quietly assessed in their skills by the military. In other words, without knowing it, the kids self-select, the farmers confirm that, and then they are finally approached by the spotters. Dad was taken on in the early 1940s to a small military airstrip along the Mississippi river down in Iowa. He crashed before taking off the first time in a battered Corsair fighter attack plane they pointed him to. They forgave that crash and immediately had him try again. They knew he was better. Indeed. He quickly went on to become one of the most decorated fighter attack pilots in World War II.

This e-card took some research. I think I have the best parishioners in the world.

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Cuba, Russia, NoKo, China ICBM threat: preparing for the unimaginable

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When I was in first grade in our Catholic parochial elementary school in the mid 1960s the school desks we had were like those pictured, but the legs were bolted to long pieces of lumber much like a railroad tracks. The desks were always in order and one couldn’t mischievously rock the desk forward either by lifting it up from behind or rocking forward on the seat in front. I would’ve been the kid with bow and arrow outside the window trying to get my sleeping friend to skip school.

Anyway, for many days in a row we had nuclear missile drills in the class room. The goal was to get as quickly under these iron and wooden desks as fast as we could when we were given the signal. This wasn’t fun, and had us living under the dark threat of nuclear war, such as little kids could even begin to understand such things. That was when I began to have a deep hatred for all that which is Communism. All of my multitudinous experiences with Communism since I was a little kid have confirmed and further informed my first visceral judgment. I learned to include other power-ideologies such as one finds in the insane governance of Iran, with the oft-repeated desire to obliterate Israel from the face of the Earth.

Meanwhile, our hide-under-the-desks drill was taking place more than two decades after these USA dropped Little Boy and Fat Man on Hiroshima and Nagasaki respectively. We shouldn’t forget how the war in the Pacific Theater actually ended:

Everyone knows that rule number two: “Trust but VERIFY” while making friends – of sorts – is always one aspect of preparing for the worst. It’s not a backup plan but goes hand in hand with rule number one.

Everyone knows that rule number two will be broken, which is why rule number one is always in place: “Be able and always ready to neutralize an activated threat when rule number two is broken.

Israel knows that neutralizing a merely prepared threat is absolutely necessary where they live. Thus, nuclear reactors manufacturing high grade nuclear warheads in deserts have been routinely obliterated. Great.

Not many know, however, what the absolute best way to prepare for nuclear war happens to be. It comes before the above two rules. It’s overarching, reaching into every aspect of our lives: the Rosary.

Oh, and that applies to the-end-of-the-world for us in our own personal lives, when we die, and either we will go to Heaven (whether after Purgatory or not) or directly to hell. Hell is unimaginably worse than any already unimaginable nuclear annihilation would be for those who somehow survive.

Being one with the Living God whose love is stronger than death is the way to live, and die. No threat is ever so scary when we are walking as one with the very Creator of the Heavens and the Earth, the Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception.

BTW. That picture above belonged to a parishioner who recently died, Marie McIsaac. She had spent a good bit of her life teaching special needs kids. She always had a rule number one for me, every time I visited her as homebound, or in the hospital or nursing home: Behave yourself!

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Pearl Harbor: Lest we forget…

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What’s that circling about the church? More on my best memory of dad.

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Dad was all about USMC Fighter-Attack Corsairs and then jets. I once asked him if he could fly helicopters and, to my delight, he said that he could fly about anything at all that any manufacturer has come up with that goes up in the air. Marines. For God and Country. Yes, both of those in the same sentence. For God and Country. A marine is always faithful, semper fidelis, Semper Fi, because God is first of faithful, so to speak, steadfast in the glory of honor: God so loved the world that He sent His only Son… So, I always wax nostalgic… From a post I put up some years ago, with a few more details:

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Dad’s the one with his back to you immediately to the left of the propeller. This is on the USS Bataan.

My favorite memory of dad was back in the Autumn of 1962, when I was just 2 1/2 years old, ten years after the picture above was taken. I’d walk up in the Communion line next to him with the rest of the family behind us. The first time I had made brave to follow him the rest of the family threw a fit saying that I should be carried, but I insisted I could make the long trek from the back of the Cathedral up to the front, and dad backed me up. The Cathedral had a gorgeous altar rail with the linens flipped over the top. I was always impressed by the linens getting flipped over the top, just as I was with kneeling there beside my dad, reaching up as high as I could to put my hands under the linens like he was doing. I was pretty small. I was filled with such wonder and awe and reverence as the priest and altar boy with paten would make it over to us. They would start on the Epistle side. We were always on the Gospel side. Everything worked together to instill reverence.

It was good be on my knees with dad before the Lord Jesus. Very good. That’s not just reminiscence with commentary of someone older. No. I was thinking that thought as a tiny little kid. And I can still remember thinking it from my diminutive height, especially so small on my knees. I remember how cold the granite altar rail was below the linens – even in summer. Here I am, thought I, with my dad, before God. I was totally enthralled.

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Armistice Veterans Day: Integrity Honor

This is the recording of an F-4 dog-fight practice run in the North Sea when James Charles Evans (12-29-1942 – 4-13-11) had to eject with a damaged plane that was on fire. His son was given this recording by his mom after his dad’s death and he decided to put it up, having gotten a walk through the recording by another pilot, Capt. Daniel.

This caught me off guard, making for some intensely emotional listening, as it brought me back in time to when I was a little kid and my own dad was telling me about the times he had some rough times in his piloting. I don’t have recordings of such conversations myself but I wonder if I could get a hold of them. Anyone know how to go about doing that?

(1) Dad was heading up the Corsair Squadron known as the Checkerboarders, which is still commissioned today. His plane got pretty shot up in a real dog-fight and his engine was on fire, with oil covering the window cap of the plane. I asked him if he had a parachute and he said yes. I asked him if he used it. He asked me why he would jump out of a perfectly good airplane. “What did you do?” I asked. He described the landing amidst cliffs jutting out every couple of hundred yards across a beach in North Korea (you can find this on Google Maps. Going deadly slow, he popped the plane up just before a cliff and came down hard on the beach on the other side before smashing into the next cliff. I said that the prop is too big, and would do the egg-beater thing and the plane would flip. He admitted that that’s what happened. “But how did you get back to safety. The North Koreans would be sending people to capture you.” And then he said something with such matter-of-factness which told me everything I needed to know about him and the Marines and what trust and loyalty that had for each other. Totally inspiring:

“Well… (exasperated sigh at my unknowingness)… My own guys picked me up, of course.”

Absolute trust. I gotta well imagine that the conversation before crashing out was awesome, much like the recording above. I am inspired.

(2) The next downing a plane piloted by dad, also a corsair, was accomplished by a student of his, at what is now Andrews Joint Base just South of Washington DC, where dad was doing the TOP GUN thing before it became a thing, teaching guys how to fly while he also did up his JAG at the-back-in-the-day Georgetown University. The student came out of an overly too quick and wide barrel roll, trying to show off, right on top of my dad’s right wing, actually breaking about a quarter of his wing right off the plane. I asked him if he had a parachute. He indicated he did. I asked if he jumped out of the plane. He asked why he would jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Then he explained that he had hold the stick over with all his might, since if he didn’t, the plane, already flying at an extreme sideways angle, would immediately go into such a violent spin that if he tried to get out he would be instantly smacked into nothing by the then spinning wings. Every resource of the airport emergency services were dispatched, fire engines, ambulances, the lot, but they were amazed to watch this best ever pilot land first on the one wing tip, then the wing tip and it’s accompanying wheel, then both wheels and the back of the plane. I can only imagine the cursing and praising going on at the same time among all at that airport. Oh… And this goes to speak of how much my dad was looked up to by his students. The barrel-roll guy who knocked the wing off his plane asked him if he would be his own Judge Advocate General, but dad told me that he had to tell the guy that it would be a…. wait for it… a conflict of interest!

I wish I could get the recordings from the tower for this one too.

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