A CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE

Cruel, but composed and bland,/Dumb, inscrutable and grand,/So Tiberius might have sat,/Had Tiberius been a cat.

Arnold

As though on cat's paws, the June MHT Newsletter arrived almost undetected a few scant days before Midsummer Eve, the night-watch for the apparitions of the soon dead. An awkwardly set photo at the bottom of the last page says far more than the rector's underwhelming prose. There, under a skewed lamppost, squatting on flabby haunches, the pesthouse's sulphur-yellow, feral moggie broods over the desolate, ill-maintained courtyard of Bubastis in Brooksville. The beast's bushy tail, a wizard's wand, points menacingly hellward as though to warn the viewer against disturbing the spirit that its flaccid body hosts.

The pesthouse is dying. The rich, fat offerings, the sacrifices of hard-won family treasure, have vanished. The interior decorators and landscape designers have fled for want of cash. The buildings seem almost to welcome the swift, oncoming decay that attends the loss of luxury. Yet for the second consecutive month, there's not been a single purr about the promised $30K proposal. That silence bodes evil for the bank accounts of the SGG chapels as well as for "One-Hand" Dan's own spa-loving felines. It spells even more danger for Our Lady of the Sun in Arizona: who knows if its lay board can resist the importunate demands?

The rector will not suffer the pesthouse to go quietly to its natural death: You may be assured of that. Pistrina will soon have a report from a family with a vacation home on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. They have promised to bring home a tell-tale souvenir from Fraser. In the meantime, the few decent people left in the cult should stand vigilant, for the silent newsletters loudly declare that something fearful their way comes. Demand to see the accounts books. Parse the bulletins carefully. If the priest can speak English clearly, listen attentively to the announcements. Ask point blank whether there is a plan to give the pesthouse the annual $30K infusion it needs to continue malforming seminarians.

Remember: your pocketbook doesn't have nine lives, so if you don't want to throw away your family's money in these hard economic times...

STARVE THE BEAST!

AID AND COMFORT TO THE ENEMY

Years ago Mr. Disraeli called Sir Robert Peel’s Ministry…an ‘organized hypocrisy’, so much did the ideas of its ‘head’ differ from the sensations of its ‘tail.’ Bagehot

By now, most traditional Catholics are familiar with the sordid business of the Blunderer’s attempt to sabotage the ordination of Fr. Bernard Hall by enlisting the services of a Novus-Ordo presbyter and a lay dupe.* Like all the cult’s misadventures, this one ended in tears for “One-Hand” Dan and Tony. There’s no need to comment further on the excellent link cited in the footnote below, save remarking that the Conciliar clergyman, who used the Checkster to help him get even with a sedevacantist prelate, disparagingly characterized Anthony as a “fringe priest.”

Tony gets no respect from anyone, including Modernist bad boys. But then, how could anyone feel anything but contempt for this uneducated poster-child for the Dunning-Kruger effect? The Vatican-II presbyter, for all his faults, at least enjoyed three years of professional graduate school in Rome and is now studying at the University of Athens, Greece. For the hostile Novus Ordite, the educationally disadvantaged Blunderer offered a convenient, though crude, blunt-edged weapon easily tossed aside once the character assassination was in the bag.

All this comes as no surprise to veteran traditional Catholics, who have observed the SGG cult masters for years. What amazes us is how the rector reconciles Anthony’s conduct with the MHT pesthouse’s published mission to train uncompromising priests who “recognize the enemy, condemn and resist him, and protect the flock of Christ from further devouring by wolves.” Perhaps we lack the rector’s subtlety (or his cavalier sense of irony), but it doesn’t appear in the best interest of the Catholic Resistance to appeal for help from the Novus-Ordo foe in order to impede the ordination of a traditional priest.

Although the Readers have often recoiled in stomach-turning horror at the absurdly low intellectual quality of the MHT completers, we have never sought to interfere with their ordinations. Even this spring, when “One Hand” ordained a hastily advanced, recent Scandinavian convert to the subdiaconate, we remained silent, in hopes that the forlorn young man won’t forget the Consecration when he becomes a priest in November.

The rector, without doubt, holds himself above any need to be consistent. He’s a law unto himself; moreover, consistency is the virtue of a systematic, not a mercurial intellect. At any rate, he’ll never have to explain Tony’s unseemly behavior to puzzled seminarians. They’re probably too timid, too dull, too threatened to ask the rector to explain why one of their “teachers” conspires with the adversary against fellow traditional Catholic clergy.

In point of fact, these backward, malformed aspirants to the priesthood cannot escape the ruinous effects of Anthony’s example and influence. The lessons learned from this episode are that self-interest matters more than the faith; that settling a score justifies consorting with the Modernist enemy; that no principle is sacrosanct in the furtherance of a personal agenda, no matter how alien that agenda may be to authentic Catholic practice; that the protection of “turf” trumps the spiritual well-being of the faithful. The only sovereign remedy against such “organized hypocrisy” is to withhold all financial assistance and

CLOSE THE PESTHOUSE.

* See “Removing all Doubt”, beginning with the paragraph “The warfare against the pastoral work of Father Ramolla at Saint Albert the Great Roman Catholic Church has included Father Cekada played a behind-the-scenes role…”

"CUT THE CRAP"

June Cleaver: Eddie seems to know a lot about the law.

Wally Cleaver: Yeah, he told his father, in three years he’s going over the wall.

Witnessing the antics of the SW Ohio cult masters is like watching an episode of Leave it to Beaver absent the moral rôle models of June and Ward Cleaver, the steady maturity of their elder son Wally, and the transformative repentance of the “Beav.” All that’s left are the failed schemes of three weasels: the conniving but doomed wiseacre Eddie Haskel; the awkward, slow-witted bully Lumpy Rutherford; and the “hydrant-headed” rat Gilbert Bates.

A little while ago, the mischief-maker-in-chief in the SGG-MHT cult’s confederacy of dunces—the laughingly self-styled “canon-law professor” at the rector’s swampland pesthouse—sent out an amateurishly wrong analysis of Fr. Markus Ramolla’s immigration status. It was a patent attempt to unsettle the faithful, whose hopes had been lifted by an announcement in Father’s bulletin. Citing the cult’s immigration lawyer, who has “almost always been right” (Hmmmm), our ill-starred, ill-trained agitator arrogantly reported that

since his [Fr. Ramolla’s] permanent record will also show that he remained in the U.S. for a full year after the removal proceeding began (from Dec 2009-Dec 2010), the Consulate [in Germany, where Father would presumably have to apply for a visa] will inform Fr. Ramolla that U.S. immigration law imposes an automatic 10-year ban on him re-entering the U.S. So, if he'd care to try applying for another visa in connection with ORCM, he would be welcome to come back again in 2021, but not before then.

As for the end result, to our amusement, our doubly jinxed analyst pronounced

because their cases are essentially the same, the outcome for Fr. R. will be the same as it was for Bernie Hall: CIS [Customs and Immigration Service] will "allow" Fr. Ramolla to depart "voluntarily" within a certain period of time -- though perhaps a little more than the 60 days Bernie [Fr. Bernard Hall] got.

As with all this life-long loser’s hoodooed pranks, the nasty caper failed miserably. On May 6, 2011, the government advised the immigration court that it did not oppose the motion to terminate Father’s instant removal proceedings without prejudice. On May 12, the immigration court decided in Father Ramolla’s favor: consequently, no court appearance was necessary.

As a aside, Pistrina notes that the Boy Blunder not only gets the legal analysis dead wrong, but also, in a botched attempt at smarmy sarcasm, he couldn’t spell ‘Zwieback’ correctly:

The visa that he got though (sic!) us until November, 2011 (called an I-94) then immediately became toast -- or Zweiback, if you prefer.

(Let’s not forget: this is the same minimally educated simpleton who offended the world with that shabby museum catalogue of errors and ignorance called Work of Human Hands. No wonder the rector’s completers are such ninnies with such an ignoramus as a mentor.)

As Wally would have said: What a goof! “Creeps Incorporated” were kinda-sorta wrong again. They should not-a started hollerin’ and yellin’.

We’re glad they did, though. Now there’s no doubt about their malevolence and their ineptitude.

Ed. Note: For the text of the Blunderer's analysis and an in-depth examination, see Christ Or Chaos; for the text only, see The Lay Pulpit. We'll add links as more sites come on line.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT

What news on the Rialto? Shakespeare

Ed. Note: There’s been quite a lot of buzz on the web these past weeks about a very important announcement slated for Pentecost. As soon as we heard about it, we dispatched two Readers to get more information. Our investigators subsequently discovered that on Monday, June 13 a number of web sites would be commenting on the welcome news.

We wanted to join in the celebration. Accordingly, this week Pistrina will post not on Sunday as usual, but on Monday. The traditional Catholic world will rejoice at the news, but the Danny and the Blunderer, hunkered down in the decaying Cult Central Bunker at 4900 Rialto Road, West Chester, Ohio 45069, will see the start of many, many more brokenhearted days.

We know you'll be on pins and needles until Monday's post. As Milton said, "Suspense in news is torture." You can be sure, however, that the cult masters will prefer the agony of expectation to the misery of revelation.

NO HIGH FLYER

Sir! You have disappointed us! Belloc

Flying in low with the engine cut, way, way under the radar, the rector’s shot-to-pieces May newsletter crash-landed on the Saturday of the long Memorial Day weekend. It was a sacrifice mission: the flier sported less than two pages of the usual stale, warmed over, oft repeated, hackneyed denunciations of Karol Wojtyła.* There were no pix of the noisome pesthouse, its fly-blown environs, the rector’s savage and pampered cat, or the hell-hole’s unhappy inhabitants. Notably missing was the long-promised proposal for raking in another $30,000 per annum to replace the forever-lost supplementary funds. The stealth arrival was clearly an attempt to dodge incoming flak.

Everybody is speculating why the rector didn’t deliver on his threat. It certainly wasn’t an oversight. How could the acquisitive rector ever forget about $30K? And why was he soooo late in getting out the newsletter? The last weekend of May for the May newsletter? Come on! And why did he spend all that money on printing and mailing for such a pitifully weak effort? If he got cold feet about demanding so much to prop up his failing vocational training program, why didn’t he just call the whole thing off?

It’s beyond reason that such a bold and practiced parasite would lose his nerve. Could it be that he’s found a way around asking for the money?

Don’t be fooled by the apparent absent-minded incompetence. The ol’ Flushing Rat isn’t going to abandon so easily his flights of fancy for interior decoration, conspicuous consumption, and sheer wastefulness. He may have stayed back in the swamp, but he hasn’t forgotten about – not for a minute — all that cash, glorious cash. Perhaps he thinks that with summer almost here, we’ll neglect to watch him carefully.

We won’t. In fact, we’ve tasked individuals and families who will be traveling on vacation to stop by the rector’s and his friends’ chapels to look for the tracks and droppings that signal fund-raising activity. They’ll be especially vigilant for special collection notices and pay-off-the-building-debt appeals. In addition, they’ll keep their eyes peeled for tell-tale contribution envelopes.

Let’s teach the rector that rats can’t fly. You can join us in clipping the rector’s wings before he clips the faithful. Send all reports and scanned materials to pistrina.liturgica@gmail.com. If we all do our part, we can

STARVE THE BEAST & CLOSE THE PESTHOUSE

* The Reader invites the rector to note the correct Polish orthography, with the diacritic kreska ukośna.

AN IMMODERATE PROPOSAL

A nice man is a man of nasty ideas. Swift

Ed. Note: Pistrina publishes 24 hours earlier this week owing to the U.S. Memorial Day holiday.

It was so very nice not to plague us all with the promised proposal to “find a way to make up for the [$30,000] shortfall.” Still, it was naughty to tease us. In fact, so piqued has been our curiosity that we determined to make a wild guess at what the proposal could have been. (Regrettably, there’s no Rumpelstiltskin to spin gold; the only spinning going on was the rector’s lame assessment that “[t]here is no lack of enthusiasm or generosity on the part of our supporters.” Accordingly, we assumed the issue was still germane and hence a worthy exercise for our imagination.)

The Readers (who associate with a better class of folk than the bleary-eyed, open-mouthed, fly-catching SGG cultists) asked a nice certified financial planner (CFP) and a nicer CPA for a “what-if” analysis on how they would raise cash if supplementary funds had dried up. We briefed them how the cult’s chapels broke up as a result of the infamous SGG School scandal and firings. We detailed how, instead of remaining prudently neutral, the foolhardy rector openly supported Tony, “One Hand” Dan, and the school “principal,” the proximate cause of the catastrophe. We showed them the correspondence where several very able laymen gave the rector an embarrassing public spanking and sent him swampward with his tail between his legs; we also shared all the schnorrer’s appeals for parking lots, interior decoration, and costly re-builds. Finally, we explained that “One-Hand” and Tony have complete, unsupervised control over the assets and real property of their cult.

“It’s simple,” declared our advisors without hesitation. “Monetize the principal assets! The economy notwithstanding, the buildings and the land on which they stand have some value. If they’re paid off, then use them as collateral for a loan. If they’re not paid off, refinance to free up some equity. For crying out loud – it’s only 30 grand. That’s only 7-10 G’s per chapel each year. Even slum property can yield that easily.”

“If the people want to continue attending Mass in their area, then they’ll have to pitch in to pay off the debt,” interposed the CPA. “Think of it as a kind of reverse mortgage.”

“Yeah,” added the CFP nicely, “It’s either pay and stay or leave and grieve. It’s really the perfect squeeze. And since this guy’s buddies are in charge of everything without an ounce of oversight, the people will have no other choice. Besides, you said these rubes were really gullible. They probably wouldn’t question anything.”

‘You see,” the accountant nastily analyzed, “if the clients aren’t willing to support the seminary, then, if you want to keep it operating, you’ll have to get their money some other way. Now if you take on additional building debt, you can support the seminary with the loan proceeds. That means you can almost silently compel the people to contribute indirectly by making them pay back the loan on property they’ve already paid for.”

“It’s the only way,” interjected his colleague, clearly impressed with his colleague’s financial nicety. “If you can’t widen the donor pool, then there’s no other option but to deepen it or at least drain it dry. From what you’ve said, there’s nowhere else to raise the cash. The folks have to pay whether they like it or not.”

Not very nice at all, but it does seem to make perfect sense, in a cold, diabolical, nasty way. But undoubtedly, it couldn’t be the proposal. Absolutely, categorically out of the question! No Catholic would even think of such a caper, let alone propose it. For one thing, it would violate every moral precept in the book. Why, not even a Wall-Street banker would dream of it! Besides, the Butler-County cult masters wouldn’t go for the idea, not with vacation around the corner. It’s about time to hit the Santa Fe Trail again, pilgrim.

It’s obvious that the lion’s share of the $30K would have to come from the straitened SW Ohio cult center and its impoverished satellite missions. Furthermore, as everyone knows, the Our Lady of the Sun lay board in Arizona wouldn’t be receptive at all to a nasty back-door raid on its fat holdings. Maybe the rector, completely out of ideas, in the end couldn’t come up with a nice proposal. Maybe he’s going to let everyone

STARVE THE BEAST & CLOSE THE PESTHOUSE.

PROMISES, PROMISES

Boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Bacon

It’s all very disappointing. In fact, we’re devastated. Since his April newsletter, we’ve been waiting for the rector’s promised, bold proposal for raising a monstrous $30,000 per year to keep the rat’s nest pesthouse breeding and the interior decorators employed. We thought it would come on Saturday. All we received instead was an advance copy of “One-Hand” Dan’s retrospective weather report from Butler County.

The Rector of Injustice just doesn’t seem to understand that Pistrina was counting on him to deliver. We were hoping for some comic relief after investigating all the foiled pranks the Ohio cult has been playing. (We’ll be exposing those antics later. You'll love it!) We know the rector’s worried about the spotlight, too, but a man’s word is his word, right? He promised — in writing — to propose a way to make up for the calamitous drying up of supplementary donations, and we want to see it. (We bet the building-code enforcers down there also want to see it: their bureaucratic patience has been worn thin enough.)

We can’t believe it’s already May 22, and we’ve heard not one rodentian squeak or shriek, not a single chirrup, not even a faint squeak-churr (although we’ve heard that Pistrina has incited quite a lot of bruxing down in Swampland.) Is the rector worried about rejection? Have “One Hand” and Tony told him to take a flying belly-roll? Or maybe he dismissed all his plague-house vermin early and no one's left to stuff envelopes. But adverse Anthony was supposedly down in the swamp, so why couldn’t he have helped?

We’re quite out of sorts with this teasing. Has the rector any idea of the many emails we’ve received from inquiring minds? They want to know how he plans to get blood out of the cult’s turnips. Will he offer an imaginative and creative fund raising plan – like enlisting Rumpelstiltskin and vowing someone’s first-born male child? No…the culties are turnips, not princes. (Hideous gnomes are definitely selective when it comes to first-born.) Perhaps he’ll set up tollbooths at the entrances of the cult’s chapels. No…the kiosks won’t be erected and electrically wired according to the building code: therefore, they won’t pass inspection. How about some hell-and-brimstone, damn-all-the-cheapskate-laity, fork-it-over-or-be-pitch-forked sermons? No…been there, done that.

Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. The suspense is unbearable. But wait! There’s still more than a week left in May for the bold and brazen rector to keep his big ($30k-big) promise. In the meantime, don’t forget to do your part in helping to close down the MHT pesthouse:

KEEP STARVING THE BEAST