Saturday, January 31, 2015


If you believe the theologians, nothing is innocent. Gascoyne-Cecil

By now, many of you have had a chance to study the documents related to the horrific SGG School Scandal of 2009.  A large proportion of the e-mails we've received expressed shock and dismay at Dannie's transgressive refusal to do the right thing for the children at the school despite the protests of laity and clergy. He defended the indefensible and thereby lost his apostolate. No matter how hard he tries or what he says and writes, his cult will never recover. His legacy will remain permanently tarnished: The events of November-December 2009 will haunt him for the rest of his life.

A number of our correspondents remarked on Wee Dan's obsession with the "innocence" of children. For instance, in a Christmastide message in "The Bishop's (?) Corner," Dirtbag Dan gushed:
Holy Innocents Day! May Innocence Himself, with His Immaculate Mother, bless you on this Christmas Sunday by restoring your innocence, and renewing your devotion to protecting innocence in our midst;
and just last week he emoted "Thank God for the voices of innocent children..."! The jarring contrast between his cold, callous stance of 2009 and his current warm, sheltering enthusiasm inspired many a writer to lash out in the harshest language (which we won't cite, for we're a family-oriented blog).

As for Pistrina, however, it's not the hypocrisy of Tradistani clergy that moves the Readers to righteous indignation. That's been the cult masters' hallmark for many a year, as we have exposed time and again on these web pages. What truly disturbs us are the laity who financially support and continue to send their children to SGG School.

If Dannie is to be believed, the school is "larger than ever." We think that's cause for concern. It's almost impossible to imagine that any rational parent who knew of the ill treatment reported here would send their own flesh and blood to the school still under the control of the "principal" at the center of the 2009 crisis. Even the humblest parents with children languishing in dreadful urban public schools wouldn't allow their offspring to attend such an institution unless there had been a thorough housecleaning. (Middle- and upper-class parents at suburban schools would have ended the career of any administrator who employed such practices as well as the career of any school executive who supported such behavior.)

But hard-core, Traddie trash apparently don't possess normal parental instincts. They have surrendered their weak wills and small intellects to their cult masters. In return for a rush of faux piety, they have offered up the innocent. In this regard, they, like their malformed, under-educated, often dubiously valid clergy constitute the great Other -- aliens to the values, emotions, and upbringing characteristic of an ethically centered, organized society. Standing far away on the margin, they glare maliciously from the outside onto the morally sensible world and mock it for being overly protective of the young. They pride themselves for approving and even encouraging disproportionate, vindictive, irrational discipline administered in ire, which they justify because it "concentrates the mind," as the Checkmeister says.

Some Traddies may argue that things have changed since the SGG School Scandal of 2009: The great benefit of the massive SGG exodus, many have said, was that, like a rod of correction, it focused the cult masters' attention and forced them to alter their policies to assure their survival. We, too, are sure the situation is not the same. But that doesn't mean the bad old days will never return. Contrary to the advice given in the Blunderer's "School Dazed," there remains a big reason why loving parents  should never, ever "[f]orget and forgive," and why they should definitely "hang on to the memory of someone’s past offenses": 

There's trouble in River City, and the money's drying up.

That means the cult masters' nerves are on edge. Who knows how much longer they can keep paying the principal tens of thousands of dollars a year? A while ago, Dannie exasperatedly complained that he had to come up with 800 bucks so that a Ukrainian priest could get an apartment for himself in his strife-torn homeland. (Of course, Li'l Dan meant that he expected the Gerties to cough up the cash!). Then last week, after lamenting the prohibitively high shipping costs to Nigeria, where the doubtfully ordained Bede Nkmauke has relocated, he melodramatically intoned, "God grant a solution." Now, since even "One Hand" is not so naïve as to suppose that the Almighty will fracture the economy of salvation by intervening to effect a dramatic reduction of overseas postal fees, it's obvious that he expects the remedy to come from the Gerties themselves.

In the old days before the scandal, he'd've flat-out asked for the cash to pay off these pet projects that have no direct or indirect benefit for the Gerties. However, he knows the cultlings are suffering from Giving Fatigue, the gradual lessening of the will to donate in once generous but now emotionally strained donors who have been repeatedly and abusively asked to give. He's heard the whispers after Mass in the social hall: donors are burned out. From what we've heard, the reluctance and embarrassment to say "no" has been replaced with annoyance, the result being the decline in revenues. 

That's bad news for the cult, because once Giving Fatigue sets in, donors are disincentivized to give with each new appeal, no matter how indirectly it's phrased. They're on to the game. Fully aware of their own hardships, they're tired of being buttonholed at every turn to underwrite Dannie's schemes (most of which are aimed at promoting his rapidly fading image abroad). As the cash stream dwindles to a trickle, cult tempers will be on edge. Conditions may well become ripe for a repetition of the unconscionable events that led to the 2009 scandal.

Parents who cannot -- or will not -- foresee the risk need intervention. But these morally impaired lowlife have drunk too deeply of the cult's noxious brew. No human can intervene with such people. The only recourse is to seek the intercession of St. Germaine Cousin of behalf of the precious innocents by making a novena in the name of this great protector of children.

* * * * * * *

Beloved Saint Germaine, I praise, bless, honor and glorify you. I love you and hold you in deepest esteem. I thank Almighty God for you.
Pope Pius IX called you "A new star shedding a marvelous glow...over the Universal Church." To you, then, the "new star," shining brilliantly in Heaven. I lift up my mind and my heart. Allow, I pray, your bright radiance to fall upon me in benediction.
Reverently mindful too of the words of Pope Gregory XVI who said that you are "The Saint we need" and following the paternal exhortation of Pope Pius IX, who counseled us to "Go to Germaine," I come to you, Saint Germaine, to render my homage and veneration, humbly begging you, "The Saint that we need," to attend to my prayer and to lay your hand upon the innocent children in blessing.
Your life on earth, dear St. Germaine, was unspeakably hard. You were an outcast, unwanted and unloved by everyone. Sick and frail, ragged and starved, brutally beatened and abused, your only home was a sordid stable. Hated and ridiculed by men, you were dearly loved by God, to Whom you were supremely pleasing and precious and to Whom you gave all the warm and tender affection of your loving heart.
Your life, which seemed utterly useless and insignificant to men, was a continuous song of love, a prayer of praise and worship, ascending as a fragrance to God.
I marvel exceedingly, Saint Germaine, at the thought of your gentleness, your sublime sweetness and patience, at your complete lack of complaint and bitterness.
I am filled with admiration for you, Saint Germaine, as I recall the pity and compassion which melted your heart at the sight of anyone's need. So eminently kind and good were you that you gladly shared with others the little crust of bread which was the only food your cruel step-mother permitted you to have each day.
I rejoice at the wondrous miracles with which God crowned and glorified your life and at the countless favors and blessings which He has bestowed upon your clients through your intercession and for your greater glory and honor. Saint Germaine, you who are now in resplendent, heavenly glory, remember the innocent. Pray for the innocent, help the innocent,  have pity on innocent, graciously intercede in the innocent children's behalf with God to Whom you are so dear. Amen. 

Add an "Our Father," Hail Mary," and a Glory Be" in honor of Saint Germaine.

Saturday, January 24, 2015


Santa-Fe/ Dear, dear, dear, dear Santa-Fe/ Since I'm never gonna to cease to roam/I'm never, ever far from home. Bob Dylan

By golly, Li'l Dan's a sneaky one, isn't he?

Without so much as a peep or a burp, a couple of weeks ago Dannie took off to Albuquerque, New Mexico, "for Confirmations and a pastoral visit to St. Gertrude the Less, and hoping for a bit of warmth as well." No one -- not even the Reader --  was the wiser until "One Hand" published his "Bishop's (?) Corner," although Pistrina had correctly predicted earlier this year a winter side trip to fashionable Santa Fe

Time was when Wee Dan would've announced his vacation with great fanfare well before he made his getaway: he'd've wanted the Gerties to know the wide extent of his "apostolate." But now, after so much public scrutiny into his dollar-wasting, rambling ways, he's been reduced to creeping out of town without so much as a 'bye-'bye, you suckers.

With Dannie's poor-mouth complaining about this "season of high heating bills" and "the imperious Duke" (the local energy company), we triple-dog-dare the half-frozen, flat-broke Gerties to confront their footloose, wandering "bishop" with a couple of burning questions, now that he's returned from toasting himself in the chic Southwestern sun.
The first sizzling question is: Who paid for the round-trip airfare, local transfer, food/lodging, and the excursion to swanky Santa Fe? (Was there also a quickie sojourn at the ritzy Bishop's Lodge featuring the SháNah Spa and Wellness Center, with its massage-and-meditation teepee?)  Did the money come from the pitifully few members of "St. Gertrude the Less" (what a ridiculous name!) or from SGG's coffers? If SGG paid all or some of the freight, then ask if he plans to reimburse the chapel from his Albuquerque stipend and his own Christmas money. Let him know in no uncertain terms that you hard-scrabble Gerties aren't operating a missions society. (And, BTW, demand to see receipts.)
The second red-hot question is: If Travelin' Dan's planning to trot off  to Mexicali, Mexico, this winter, who's paying for that? The Mexicali chapel, SGG, or (Absit!) Deacon Dan on his lonesome? Be sure to remind him you were disgusted by last year's Lenten meat-eating bacchanal. Inform him that you don't intend to underwrite such offensive clerical behavior this coming Lent, especially in light of all the recent expenses, like two replacement vehicles, the exterminator, and high heating bills. 
But let's be open and honest: the West-Chester wild rover's not going to answer these questions.  (The sternly ignorant Checkmeister won't allow it.) Therefore, since you're bound to be kicked out for asking them, you might as well just



Saturday, January 17, 2015


Oh, spa-a-a-nk us!

You asked for it...
and Pistrina delivered.

After a long absence from cyberspace, all the information related to the screamingly disgraceful 2009 scandal at St. Gertrude the Great School is now back online at

For those of you who've forgotten or who weren't around in late 2009/early 2010 to read the material posted on the old sgginfo website, you now have complete access to the whip-smart letters, editorials, articles, responses etc. that exposed the cult masters and got out the true story of the shocking events at SGG.

At last, you'll see at first hand the beginning of the end of Tradistan and understand why the cult is now up a creek without a paddle. You'll also find the chronological list of documents very useful as you refresh your memory or learn for the first time whole truth

Until next week, happy reading!

Saturday, January 10, 2015


A man travels the world in search of what he needs. George Moore

Mid-January 2015 brings two things to barren Tradistan: frigid arctic weather and, with this year's early Easter, the looming onset of Lent. That can only mean it's time for "One Hand-Dan" to pack his bags and head off to gorgeous Mexico where the sun is shining brightly, and the Lenten fast is mitigated. (Remember last year during Lent when he bragged about pigging out "on copious quantities of meat" at an Argentine restaurant in Mexico City?)

This year, we're almost certain Wee Dan plans to grace Mexicali, Mexico, with his diminutive presence and oversized appetite. (We'll wager he's sick to death of those sticky, tasteless casseroles slopped together by the hollow-eyed and unkempt "Cucina cooks." That grub's only fit to feed house mice and the "young fathers," not self-important, world-wandering "bishops.") Dirtbag Dan's been preparing the Gerties for this new junket since last year, when he announced he'd been invited there for the winter because the summers are too hot. Then, in the fall, he hosted a visit from some Mexican priests out of Baja, no doubt to firm up plans (and menus?) for his annual winter escape veiled as a "mission" visit.

As of yet, we haven't learned the exact date for the all-too-convenient getaway. We figure it could take place between February 18 and March 28 (he'd want to be back for the big show on Palm Sunday). But since Cultilandia's weather is tolerable in March, our best guess is sometime between February 18 and the end of the month, while it's still icy cold in SW Ohio: The average February low temperature in West Chester is a glacial 21 ºF or -6 ºC, while the average February high temperature in Mexicali is a balmy 73.4 ºF  or 23 ºC.

While the Gerties and the left-behind "clergy" are shivering around their thin, tepid soup, Li'l Dan will be sunning himself before heading off for a good feed. A colleague couldn't find an Argentine churrasquería in Mexicali, but she did come across a Brazilian rodízio-style* restaurant, Mr. Pampas do Brasil (Justo Sierra 1051, )686-565-6558). We think Wee Dan will really like the joint. One reviewer on exclaimed, "Stuff your face with meat!" and Gabriel G effused, "Para carnívoros."  We don't expect the waiters will ever see the red NÃO token on Deacon Dan's table: it'll be go-go green SIM the whole night!

When Travelin'-Man Dan announces the dates of his winter-holiday, loyal Gerties in the choir will want to accompany him to the airport to sing a buen-viaje serenade. We've taken the liberty of composing an appropriately themed ditty to be sung to the tune of "Mexicali Rose." Here's the original, as covered by the immortal Slim Whitman so y'all can sing along at home.

Mexicali knows I'm dyin'
For a Lenten feast of copious meat.
Every fastin' day is sorely tryin'
The patience of a vagus who can eat!

Set the mesa with a platter.
Load it with carnitas and bistec.
Fry some chicharrón, make me fatter:
Mexicali knows I'm packed!


* A rodízio, or Brazilian steakhouse (churrascaria in Portuguese), is an all-you-can-eat, fixed-priced carnivore's paradise. Your waiter gives you a token, one side green, often marked sim ("yes") and the other red, usually marked não ("no"). As long as the servers see the green token on the table, they'll keep bringing you dripping skewers of barbecued filet mignon, sirloin steak, roast beef, short ribs, pork sausage, pork ribs, chicken hearts, dark chicken meat, grilled pineapple, and the prized, super fatty  picanha ("rump cap"). We imagine that once Li'l Dan's through, there'll be an incident much like what Mr. Creosote's experienced in "Monty Python's The Meaning of Life."

Saturday, January 3, 2015


Toga! Toga! "National Lampoon's Animal House"

In his squalid "Bishop's (?) Corner," written right before Christmas, "One-Hand Dan" indulged in his wonted (and unwanted) oversharing.  There he left us with this stomach-turning, but significant, revelation:
...the fortnight before Christmas a mouse in the house of the young fathers had stirred himself right into the fridge. How we are not sure, but there he was feasting away all night long like the priests of Dagon in Daniel. Well, we set a trap, and...plugged with a pen the smallest of holes, and the dike is holding. Our tasty leftovers (thank you, Cucina cooks) are again safe.
Now a decent person brought up in a normal, middle-class home would exclaim in disgust, "Eeeewwww! Gross! Why would you ever make public such a story!?"

From Dannie's graphic remarks, you'd have to conclude the residence is a filthy pigs' sty teeming with nests of house mice so cheeky that they breezily make themselves at home in the refrigerator to snack on rotting discards (that were probably put away uncovered). "One Hand's" detailed description makes it painfully easy to imagine the stench of that dump, the uncleanliness of which must surely attract all kinds of diseased critters. A genteel mind doesn't even dare think of how contaminated that unhygienic fridge must be, let alone consider storing food there ever again. The vision Dannie's given us is enough to gag a maggot on a gut wagon: hantavirus haven, that's for sure!

Dirtbag Dan leaves the impression that the whole trashy place must look like a misfit frat house on double-secret probation after an unspeakably gruesome pledge week, doesn't it? His barf-inducing account suggests three things: (1) the absence of adult supervision, (2) the alarmingly accelerated decay of the cult's dreary, industrial-park campus, and (3) a fresh money-raising campaign on the horizon.

Since (1) is a no-brainer, let's briefly consider (2) and (3).

Dannie's report of a raccoon infestation in the cult center's walls has been a "Corner" obsession for several long weeks. It looks like the problem's getting worse, for in the same pre-Christmas "mice-in-the-icebox" message he confided:
The church wall raccoons have sublet, I fear, to even noisier beasts, and are bickering all during Mass and Vespers, roaming all through the house. Animals are territorial, aren’t they?
The whole incompetently designed, cheaply constructed rat-trap has been on its last legs for several years now. Now, it seems, it's been taken over by varmints known to carry rabies, roundworm, and leptospirosis. That's why public-health officials warn people to rid themselves of these foul pests as soon as possible after detection. Under no circumstances should rabies-vector species be permitted to go "roaming all through the house." In the meantime, the more civilized Gerties are advised to keep their children away from the cult center until such dangerous wildlife can be removed and all areas -- including the scandal-scarred school -- are thoroughly disinfected by certified professionals. There are probably raccoon latrines scattered throughout the entire crumbling structure!

Since cult revenue gets squandered, there can't be any funds for regular maintenance, and apparently there's no ready-money to call in a licensed pest-control firm. So Dannie has the perfect set-up for an early-winter fund raiser to tax the already grumbling and tapped-out cultists:  More donations to buy an expensive, new refrigerator and hire an exterminator to clean up the unsanitary mess.

We expect to hear the first call for cash before the end of January, around the time when final planning gets under way for "One Hand's" Mexicali, Mexico, winter getaway cum dining extravaganza -- oops! we mean "apostolate." (Surely there'll be enough donations to set aside a nice portion for the south-of-the-border escapade, especially if they buy a second-hand, low-efficiency fridge for the woebegone "priests" of Daniel. Why, there might be enough for a quickie side trip to chic Old Santa Fe.)

When the cult masters come begging, tell 'em to clean up their act and use their own Christmas money if they want to rid their shabby living quarters of vermin. Meanwhile, put into action your resolution to leave the cult in 2015. Have a frank talk with the whole family this weekend. Tell 'em it's time to be cleansed of these clerical pests infesting your bank account.

Tell 'em it's time for a normal, wholesome, thrifty Catholic life.