Saturday, April 25, 2015


There is a mystery involved in the Conciliar Popes which sedevacantism passes by. R. Williamson 

Editor's Note: We received the following email just before Easter and thought it deserved a public response from the Readers (N.B. we've shortened it somewhat):
I don't always agree with your methods but at least you back up whatever you write ... I, for one, am grateful for some of what you have revealed ... I will not say you are fair, yet you seem intellectually honest ... Therefore I propose a bargain ... I grant that Father Cekada made huge errors in WWW [= Work of Human Hands, Ed.] and in his pamphlet on the conferral of priestly orders with one hand. Also, I will admit his translation of Pius XII's words is "perverse," as you incessantly harp ... Can you in turn be equally honest and admit that Father Cekada's article against attending una cum Masses [We believe our correspondent is referring to "The Grain of Incense," Ed.] is so well done that he makes fools of you when you talk about "that una cum nonsense"? It is certainly his cleanest and best work. His argument and scholarship are impeccable ... Is that why you have never attacked it?... What do you propose in place of it? The SSPX's recognize and resist policy? ... I am expecting a straightforward answer, if that is possible from you smart alecks. 
And that you'll get, though you won't like it or the fact that your challenge has obliged us to pick at the scabs of Checkie's leprous work to expose more of his unscholarly sloppiness.

First, we grant that, in this case, the Blunderer's effort is marginally better than all his other error-laden trivialities. That's probably because, as it seems to us, Big Don Sanborn did most of the conceptual frame-working for "una-cum" way back in 1993 and 2002. We're not too terribly impressed with Big Don, as you know from our many demonstrations of his own howling errors, but in comparison with Tony Baloney, the rector's a mighty prodigy of learning.

As for Cheeseball's article's being "clean," we strongly disagree. We need only mention that on p. 3, B. 1, the translation of Ex Quo differs from that given on and in print by only one word, yet the Blunderer doesn't acknowledge the translator (or the source).  And if you need more instances of far less forgivable carelessness, then, on p. 4, footnote 13, there is the nonsensical misprint cominis instead of the correct nominis. Furthermore, in footnote 14, he prints an acute accent instead of a grave (Prières, Tony, not Priéres!), and on p. 8, footnote 37, we find the slovenly  "catholic communio" instead of "catholica communio." And how about p. 8, footnote 30, where the Latin-challenged nincompoop prints the dative or ablative "Carthaginensi" instead of the correct genitive "Carthaginensis"?

So, then, the same-old, same-old careless shoddiness and bad Latin appear alive and well in this "clean" article. LOL.

But our reasons for ignoring this piece of self-serving propaganda have nothing to do with its scholarly flaws. From our viewpoint, it looks like a blatant attempt to keep the faithful sedated and strapped to the cult, blind to the complex spiritual reality of the crisis in the Church. Not everyone who assists at a sede Mass is a dyed-in-the-wool sedevacantist; we'd guess that a sizable number are folks who just want the Tridentine rite and aren't interested in all the mind-numbing polemics.

For that reason, we'll admit that if you're a lobotomized naïf who wrongly believes that sedevacantism is a declared dogma of the Church, then you must never attend an una-cum Mass and at the same time must also vilify others who do. However, if you're not, if you're a faithful Catholic in search of valid sacraments administered in accordance with tradition and you couldn't care a fig for speculations contrived by poorly trained, clerical entrepreneurs (some of whom once said and enforced una-cum Masses), then you won't have a problem attending an SSPX Mass. (And that's what the cult masters don't want: you'll probably take your money and leave when you get a chance to compare them to priests with a sound formation in real seminaries.)

Inasmuch as our frontal lobes are intact and we know better, we should not be persuaded, even if a formally trained, genuine intellect had penned the article. We could only acquiesce to the argument if we knew for certain we were in the sede vacante.  But we don't. Nobody does. It's merely a thought-provoking thesis, no matter how well it may seem to save appearances. In fact, to be completely frank as our correspondent has asked,  the very attractiveness of the sede hypothesis gives us pause: it's too neat.

Now if the cult masters openly admitted that the proposition was only probable then we would praise them, because that's what Pistrina's sedevacantists affirm. However, many Trads have been led to believe that the sede thesis is Gospel truth with no other explanation being tenable. To oppose such childish narrow-mindedness amid so much uncertainty, Pistrina has adopted, as its editorial posture, aliquid-pravism -- something's horribly wrong with Rome, and anyone who affirms that proposition is our colleague.

As we have written to others, the weakness of all the current theories lies in their failure to account for the enormity -- the utter historical incomparability -- of the crisis Catholics have endured for the last half century. The aliquid-pravi position affirms the ultimate incomprehensibility of the divine reasons for and the eventual outcome of the Vatican II catastrophe, for it acknowledges the inadequacy of rational attempts to scrutinize the will of God in a matter beyond the reach of human understanding.

Aliquid-pravism posits that, as a result of grace, many Catholics of all stripes know that something is deeply, deeply wrong with the Vatican establishment, particularly today under the pernicious Jorge Bergoglio. Anyone who shares the simple affirmation that the faith has been altered is our brother or sister in the faith. Our job is to seek our salvation by our best lights in conformance with pre-conciliar Catholic theology and leave all other conjectures aside until the Restoration. (Today, theologizing lies in nobody's remit.) In other words, an aliquid-pravist has the courage and the humility to surrender to the mystery and trust in God, Whose guidance saved him from the Modernist horror.

(More to the point, and this is an entirely personal perspective, but we find it impossible to consider that God in His infinite wisdom would entrust the stewardship of His remnant Church to the likes of the malformed American clergy of Tradistan. Yes, we believe that with God all things are possible, but it taxes our intellect to imagine He would play such a cruel, cosmic joke on faithful Catholics by raising up these ill-trained, lucre-loving mediocrities, with all the baggage that has weighed them down for so long. Such an affirmation would require the same monstrous act of assent that Borges's fictional theologian Nils Runeberg made when he madly concluded that God chose Judas Iscariot as the Redeemer of all mankind.)

Setting aside our personal contempt for the poorly educated, mammonite oracles of Cultilandia, the argument the rector and his ape advance is still worthy of every traditionalist's attention because it's internally consistent. (Although, we must note, the attachment of their names to the proposition is a definite impediment to its tenability -- the cult masters don't have any intellectual credibility outside their disturbed cult circle. Sometimes, you know, you have to consider the source.)  Nevertheless, the other sides of the debate -- and  there are several -- also demand an attentive hearing, notably the opinion of Robert Siscoe here, here, and here. Further complicating the dispute is the absence of the informed voices of formally trained, universally recognized Catholic theologians: imperiti certant et adhuc sub judice lis est (with apologies to Horace's shades.)*

We don't know which opinion is right and which is wrong. No one will until the day the Church decides the matter. We took a poll among ourselves, and most of us agree that some form of sedevacantism or sedeprivationism might come close, but no one would censure fellow traditional Catholics for thinking otherwise or deny others the sacraments. Whichever side anyone chooses -- and each of the Readers has chosen one of the opinions as a modus vivendi --  may not, in the end, prove to be the answer the Church may someday reveal.
Divine Providence could disclose something altogether different.

In the meantime, the right-thinking Catholic -- layman or cleric -- who adopts in good conscience the sede-vacante thesis with all its implications, will not in good conscience assist at an una-cum Mass, but he also won't condemn  -- or deny sacraments to -- other Catholics whose informed consciences counsel otherwise and who, therefore, assist at SSPX Masses or do not embrace as de fide the sede hypothesis with the una-cum proscription.

That's why we make common cause with all who love the traditional faith and witness that what has happened over the last half century or so is gravely wrong. We stand opposed to those clerics who use sedevacantism as a religious test to determine to whom they will administer the sacraments. Insofar as sedevacantism is, at best, a plausible theory, the sacraments should be available to anyone who professes the true Catholic faith by his petition thereof. Period. 

As to the question of assisting at Mass, we leave that to individual conscience, not to the suspect pronouncements of malformed, agenda-driven clergy who appear more interested in keeping control of people and their money than in the cure of souls. Their real policy seems to favor binding consciences in order to keep the flock from leaving Tradistan's parched desert for a place of pasture where they will find the water of refreshment. Besides, if we are to wage the ongoing battle against Modernism and the evil heresiarch Bergoglio, we'll need more foot soldiers than the diminishing ranks that discredited Tradistan can supply.

* What's sorely needed is a non-polemical, comprehensive study (by a formally trained disciplinary master, preferably writing in Latin) of all the Latin-language canonico-theological literature related to the discussion of the defection of a pope from the faith. Tradistan, naturally, cannot produce such an individual, nor is it possible that a credentialed author will ever come from the United States. There are scholars in South America and Europe now, who are capable of the undertaking. (The Italian universities are particularly rich in a lay professoriate with all the required training, skills, and brains.)

The current literature on the subject published in the U.S. offers us only amateur efforts, at best. Without a sober, professional, coherent assessment -- an assessment that weighs the data offered by the sedes and the recognize-and-resisters --  we don't have the basis upon which to form a solid probable opinion about the status of the conciliar popes. Until we have a reputable, expert, historically centered analysis of the question of a heretical pope who has not been formally condemned by the Church, then all we can say is that Vatican II is evil and not condemn others who share that belief but hold a differing interpretation.

We don't expect this necessary work to begin until after European and/or South American academics complete their demonstration that Vatican II represents a rupture from the past. In the meantime, let every traditional Catholic practice his faith according to his conscience without self-interested fatwās from the badly educated Mad Mullahs of Tradistan, who hold no monopoly on the truth.

Saturday, April 18, 2015


Is the year only lost to me?/Have I no bays to crown it? Herbert

Like gang graffiti in a big, dirty, American city's most forsaken ghetto, the ominous writing's all over the vermin-infested walls of decaying Saint Gertrude the Great:
The cult's days are numbered. The divisive cult masters will soon be wanting.
With febrile apprehension, "One Hand" has read this dire message delivered by way of the Gerties' low attendance throughout Lent 2015. In the Easter Sunday "Bishop's (?) Corner," Dannie allowed all his pent-up angst to burst forth in a flood of dread and recrimination (emphasis ours):
It was a hard one, this Lent, as God sent the penance of the weather, making our Lenten church duties all the more difficult. Attendance was dismal. Many did not or could not come. Some simply stayed away week after week. Thank God most of those on whom we depend for all we do, mostly managed to make it.
Deacon Dan wears the panicky air of a man who knows he's about to be fired, doesn't he?  Gone is the insincere excuse-making to coax the reluctant back; the weather now shares only part of the blame. Dannie knows the truth: he's decoded the hostile body language of avoidance -- the averted gaze, the physical distancing:
It's a hot mess. He's afraid. 
The fact is, the awakening Gerties willfully chose not to attend; they pertinaciously shunned the cult center no matter what the weather was like. Apparently, even some of the hard-core, bug-eyed fanatics who keep the dying enterprise on life support didn't show up all the time. 

Gripped by his rising alarm, His Anxiousness, perhaps worrying he might trigger the early arrival of his (and the Cheeseball's) pink slip, must have had second thoughts about the harsh tone of his angry rebuke: Immediately he walked back his reflexive Nurse Ratched posturing, trying instead the indirect route in the morose persona of a wounded, stubbornly heroic soul soldiering on in the face of sullen indifference (albeit he couldn't resist scolding the Gerties just a little):
But still I could not give up the nights, although most of you have. Sometimes somebody comes to a 5 PM Mass. The Lenten Friday evenings are almost abandoned. The Stations never once drew even a modest crowd. Sad. The dead are gone, the devout grow older and can’t come, and no one takes their place anymore, although the memory of their example reproaches us(Emphasis ours.)
Li'l Dan doesn't know much Latin or Scripture (see our footnote below about his gross misspelling of Samson), but there's one thing His Covetousness does know: absence makes the heart grow harder and draws the purse-strings tighter. The fewer events you attend, the more remote your sense of affiliation. The more remote the affiliation, the less willing you are to part with your family's money for what you know to be frivolous, sinfully wasteful expenditures.

We also suspect that Diminutive Daniel, the Mount Denali of prudentia carnis, divines in the vanishing attendance a threat more foreboding than lukewarm devotion or missed opportunities to eat for free at tepid potluck suppers. He contemplates the very heart of darkness. Since Lenten devotions like Stations or weekday Mass are not of precept, the participation of the faithful is a sound indicator of how well-disposed people feel toward their chapel and its clergy.

A happy faith community will turn out in all but the worst of weather conditions, notwithstanding the inconvenience of rushing home on a wintry Friday to bundle the family into the van for an evening trek in the blustery dark to a distant chapel. The spiritual and social rewards are well worth the hassle, as long as that chapel remains a place where you want to be.

But, as His Self-Centeredness realizes with mounting horror, low or zero attendance means the folks don't want to be there; they're tired of enduring the cult crew's relentless fund-raising and profligate big spending. (Everybody knows that Checkie didn't really need a new organ and that the scandal-scarred SGG School should be self-supporting.) Attending devotions has become a burden, not a joy:
Any excuse, like the weather, will do.
When you don't see yourself as belonging, every time you miss an event, the easier it becomes to skip the next one.  Soon you get comfortable saying the family rosary on cozy Friday evenings after a comforting, hot, home-cooked meal. You become accustomed to the freedom from harassment for more cash from badly educated, arrogant clergy whom you quietly despise. At length, after missing so many Stations, so many evening Masses, it's easy to take a pass on the Maundy Thursday night-watch at a now foreign place where you no longer feel you belong. And where you don't belong, you don't give.

The Gerties' cooling fervor must have terrified "One Hand," for again he overshared in evident anxiety (emphasis ours) :
God bless the men of the Guard of Honor, who watched at the Altar of Repose on Holy Thursday night. We would be happy to have their ladies join them in adoration, as well as to recruit new men for this apostolate .... Like Sampson’s [sic!]* hair, it is a secret of our strength. Our enemies have never managed it. Few friends have matched it. Even though we’re not big on nights anymore, let us never abandon it, lest we lose our chief defense, the source too of so many other blessings, unseen, silent, like the night. 
The cult masters are having trouble filling the roster even for the holy privilege of watching one still hour with our Lord! The situation's so perilous that "One Hand" must brandish the ultimate weapon all desperate cults resort to in times of collapse -- OUR ENEMIES. When the faithful avoid the vigil at the Altar of Repose, His Nervousness is in big, big trouble:

He's lost the people! Fleet Dispossession, on whirring moth-wing, speeds her hurried way to Raggedy Dan's cult center. 
His appeasing words of surrender, "we’re not big on nights anymore," won't help him this year or in 2016, when Easter falls on March 27, ten days earlier than 2015's "early" Easter. If weather patterns hold, the winter of 2016 will be as severe as that he just experienced, arming the disaffected Gerties with all the justification they need to sit it out again, provided they haven't already vacated Dannie's loathsome cult by then.

All the writing on the wall spells an end to the cult masters' high living at the expense of the faithful. They can no longer  make it up as they go.  It'll be tough paying the huge Duke Energy heating bill this year; it'll be far tougher next year. Unless Dannie decides to throw caution to the wind, there won't be a giddy, carefree, decadently luxurious interlude in 2015 at the aggressively upscale Bishop's Lodge in impossibly chic Santa Fe. The prospect of a well-feathered retirement in the artsy, desert Southwest will become yet dimmer. Come to think about it, next year there might not even be enough cash to rent a jackass for the garish Palm-Sunday sideshow: His Asininity will have to stand in for the beast. (Not a soul will notice the substitution, we wager.)

No wonder His Uneasiness bitterly lashed out at the Gerties' apathy: as they steadily grow more weary of the cynical theatrical distractions aimed at separating them from their money, his day of reckoning creeps nearer and nearer.

Spare Dirtbag Dan the painful uncertainty of anticipating the end of the cult gravy train.


* As every schoolboy knows, the traditional English spelling of the Nazirite judge of Israel is Samson, not Sampson. The latter form is that of Biblical Greek (Σαμψών). Now, since it's a sure bet that Deficient Dan has even less Greek than his very, very small Latin, we have here another example of his severe malformation.

After all, shouldn't a cleric at least be able to spell the names of popular Biblical figures? We mean, it's not as though he were referencing, say, (for Confraternity-Version readers) Maher-shalal-hash-baz -- although, Dannie should learn that name, for the etymology characterizes the ideal greedy cult cleric of Tradistan: "quick to the plunder, swift to the spoil."

Maybe there's an explanation for the orthographic lapse, one that may be beyond Dannie's customary ignorance and stupidity: Inasmuch as we've enjoined him from celebrating bloody bunny massacres in the Sunday bulletin, maybe his raging, rebelling subconscious conjured up that gruesome scene in Catch-22, where Kid Sampson, a young pilot, is sliced in two by the propeller of a prankster's plane, as in this clip from the Mike Nichols film adaptation.

Sometimes people can't help themselves, can they?

Saturday, April 11, 2015


The voice of the dead was a living voice to me. Tennyson

It never ceases to disgust the Readers at how low Dannie can sink. 

You'd think we'd be used to it. But even we can be surprised. Take, for instance, the Passion Sunday "Bishop's (?) Corner," where we found the following example of manipulative effrontery (emphasis ours):
One of our faithful went to Margaret O’Brien’s funeral at the Pius X church in Walton, and was really surprised, scandalized even, at the photo of Bergoglio they have there. After all, he’s the antichrist from Hell...How far can you push a good ole boy? Pretty far, it looks like. What would Bernie Brueggemann have to say about this? 
Li'l Dan's motives are so shamelessly transparent, we're almost embarrassed for him -- dropping the name of a widely respected, deeply pious, tradtional Catholic (lamentably now deceased) as if nothing had happened back in 2009, as if the gentleman had remained at SGG until God took his soul.

The truth is, in moral outrage he (and his money) left the cult, and his Requiem Mass was held at the rival SSPV chapel. No doubt the calculated mention of this courageous man's name is part of the cult masters' PR campaign to erase the haunting memory of the 2009 SGG School Scandal from the weak minds of the depraved, remaining Gerties. (The cult center's coming unglued fast, as we'll show next week.  His Brazenness is at his wits' end, so he'll try anything, no matter how indecent.)

Death has silenced this devout and principled Catholic layman's voice, so he cannot protest the cynical misuse of his good name. And while we might only be able to guess at what he'd have to say about Bergoglio, we do have his opinion -- in writing -- about the reviled SGG clergy.

After this exemplary Christian left SGG, Big Don Sanborn wrote him a turgid and fatuously reasoned letter, available here. (The gentleman, you should bear in mind, had been, prior to the outbreak of the scandal, a very generous benefactor of SGG and the pesthouse "seminary.")  In his sharply worded rebuttal of the self-interested rector's lame arguments,* the honorable layman wrote:
My decision to leave St. Gertrude is not based upon advancing the sedevacantist cause but upon (1) not being able, in good conscience, to be associated with clergy whose behavior is morally reprehensible, (2) not being able, in good conscience, to entrust my soul and the souls of (potentially) my wife and children to clergy who calumniate other priests, lie from the pulpit, and defend, excuse, and employ as principal of a supposedly Catholic school a man who physically abuses children and scandalizes them so that their bodies and souls are in danger. How could I ever trust clergy who do such things? How could I possibly turn a blind eye to it and act as though nothing were wrong? I cannot.
If the late Mr. Brueggeman's ethically informed opinion really carried any weight with Dannie, why didn't he heed these words and do the right thing to regain the gentleman's trust (and financial support)? After all, that's pretty strong language. A churchman of honor would have been ashamed that a noble layman found it necessary to condemn him so strongly and so publicly. Furthermore, the letter was posted on the sgginfo site with a dateline of Nov. 13, 2009, so Dirtbag Dan had plenty of time to take its message to heart: such uncompromising words would have stung a normal cleric's conscience and motivated an immediate conversion. Likewise, a true pastor would have been reduced to tears when the saintly Mr. Brueggeman declared that it's "apparent that scoundrels have taken over who have no care for souls."

And if those last words weren't enough to move Wee Dan to sincere repentance, he should have come to his senses when he read this ringing condemnation:
God will always bless righteousness and punish evil. He is the One directing the future restoration of the Church, and it won't be brought about by maintaining the illusion of a good Catholic school and a good Catholic parish when the truth is so terribly different.
Yet Dannie didn't straighten up and fly right, even after reading the questions this good and decent man threw back into the self-interested rector's impudent face:
Why should anyone give money to a group of clergy who lie, scandalize people, and allow the abuse of children? Why should we support this? Why should we turn a blind eye to it and act as though nothing were wrong? 
We all know what happened. "One Hand" utterly ignored all protests, written and oral. Ever a man of principle and conviction, Mr. Brueggeman did the right thing and left SGG, which he largely had built through his uncommon generosity. Yet some five years later, Dannie invokes his memory and wisdom, as though his leaving as a result of the deplorable 2009 SGG School Scandal had never occurred.  After his reply had been sent to the rector, however, it's obvious a rapprochement could never have materialized as long as Dannie kept the "principal" on board and refused to make reparation. Read the whole letter for yourself here.

If you're a Gertie, why don't you follow in this righteous Catholic's footsteps and leave the cult and Dannie today? If you only know some Gerties, show them Mr. Brueggeman's blunt words and urge them to emulate his example for the good of their own souls. 

* The rector's letter has some hilariously mean-spitrited images of Deacon Dan "stocking shelves at Kroger [a grocery chain store], reduced to shame and poverty," "pigeons nestling" in a deserted, barren St. Gertrude's, and Checkie or Wee Dan as a Walmart greeter. (Was there a touch of Schadenfreude at play here? We got the impression there was more than a little pay-back in the rector's choice of images: Big Don must have been livid that Dannie had wrought so much trouble -- and so much future financial loss and exposure.)

To date, although no one has yet spotted the two seedy clerics punching a time clock in the retail trade, SGG has, indeed, suffered an infestation of raccoons in its walls and mice in the so-called priests' refrigerator. Maybe the rector's bleak vision of a trad apocalypse wasn't too far off the mark. 

Why not make it all come true and stop supporting the cult masters this very day? Just before you leave, pass along to Dannie and his blundering associate this link.

Saturday, April 4, 2015


Here comes Peter Cottontail/Hoppin' down the bunny trail... Nelson and Rollins

Editor's Note: We're posting a little early this weekend in hopes of saving the Gerties from another psychic shock as a result of the  following email comment, which seems fitting for the season:
Did you read the "Bishop's Corner" last week? [Ed. note: the "Corner" dated March 22.] Dumb question. Sure you did. But did you catch Dan's obsession with bunnies? He mentioned them twice:  The morning sun had turned all the dew into glistening crystal over which bunnies hopped AND The cats set me a good example these days as they are out at all hours and weather patrolling our property line ... guarding against marauding baby bunnies. Hardly a week goes by without some nutty comment about his alley cats and their prey. Maybe he caught rabbit fever during the recent infestation of vermin in the SGG walls. Any sage reactions, O Wise Ones?
Yes, it's unnerving for a grown man -- other than Pee-Wee Herman -- to write over and over again about bunnies. When we read the "Corner" in question, our collective reaction was, "Has Deacon Dan finally lost it?" Then we had a good, long, loud laugh at Li'l Dan's expense.

If appearances are to be trusted, Wee Dan just might be chafing at our objection to his lurid accounts of disemboweled bunnies and eviscerated rabbits in the Sunday bulletin, where sensitive, squirming and un-medicated  cult-bred children might encounter his fiendish reports. We feared they'd become more traumatized than they already are, so we ordered His Grossness to stop it. (See our post from last October, "Quelling the Cat.")

Under moral pressure from Pistrina, he might -- we say might -- have partially stifled an overwhelming desire to trumpet his cats' blood-spattered triumphs by chanting a bunny mantra every week. (Let's see: does that go, Om bunny-rabbit hum?) Cuteness may have been a coping mechanism to repress the publication of additional adventures in kitty-cruelty. You could, and not without warrant, conclude he was hoping to give an air of respectability to his mania through the absurd pretense of childish benevolence and saccharine squidginess. ("Well, butter muh butt and ca-a-all me a biscuit! That thar li'l, ole bee-uh-ship! Ain't he jes' so pray-shuss, Papaw?")

If our guess is right, then the auto-therapy apparently isn't working well.

His real feelings may be starting to break through, as evidenced by his blaming the victims of the wanton feline violence: the "baby bunnies" in his view are alien marauders abusing the patience of the heroic tomcat border-patrol storm troopers shielding the decrepit cult property from the incursions of the gentle migrants.

As he endures the daily succession of the secular images of the Easter Rabbit and TV's famous Flemish Giant, the  clucking Cadbury Bunny, dare we imagine that Dirtbag Dan might be on the verge of going "bunny bonkers"? 

Perhaps, he can't keep up the pretense any longer. The cute-bunny tic may no longer be enough to control his resentments.  Could it be that he must find an outlet to sate a raging bloodlust?

Come to think about it... bunny rhymes with money, doesn't it?

Dannie's got to be furious over the huge financial losses resulting from the 2009 SGG School Scandal. All that cash gone forever and "nobunny" whom he would dare to punish. Lots of potential frustration there, that's for sure. Nothing worse than not being able to get even for something that ruined your future.


If we don't intervene, will the "Bishop's (?) Corner" again feature "hare-raising" tales of guts and gore to spoil the twitching Gerties' fragile Sunday peace?

We can't let that happen, can we?

The dirty Gerties have enough to terrorize them as it is without macabre images of shredded baby bunny carcasses and diabolical cats red in tooth and claw.

So, O.K., Dannie. Let us help you.

(We hope we're not too late! That's why we're posting a tad early this weekend. We pray Deacon Dan won't ruin the Gerties' Easter morning with another savagely bloody narrative of mayhem and mutilation.)

We promise we'll stop trying to be the better angels of your nature, Dannie Boy.  End all the pretense today. Get it out of your system. Grab a box of Crayolas from the "school," print out the image below, and 

Get your silly freak on!