EXTREMELY ROWDY NUNS

NEWS FLASH

A must-read, game-changing monograph by Eric Hoyle on confessional jurisdiction after Vatican II has just been published and is available here. His brilliant effort promises to turn Tradistan on its head. Without exaggeration, it will transform forever the spiritual lives of truth-loving, traditional Catholics. After studying it carefully, you'll want to (1) print out a copy of either the ACT OF PERFECT CONTRITION or Semple's HEAVEN OPEN TO SOULS and (2) then leave the rotten cult masters IMMEDIATELY. 

We'll discuss this dazzling monograph sometime in the future. Meanwhile, on to today's post...

I like convents, but I wish they would not admit anyone under the age of fifty. Napoleon

Pistrina is blessed with a very well informed readership, many of whom remember what authentic Catholicism was like in pre-conciliar days. On more than one occasion, they have observed the disparity between the sede cults' fictional, often cruel re-imagination of the Church and the actual beneficent practice of the past.

Relying on that abundant treasure of lived experience, this week we're publicizing a few reports about the Florida super-cult convent in Bonkersville. Pistrina will refrain from comment, other than expressing a brief impression at the end.

We ask you to read over the material and then tell us whether the behavior reported therein is characteristic of the ethos of a genuinely Catholic religious institute for women. If you are a former religious or have read extensively about pre-V2 religious life, feel free to give your two-cents' worth, either by e-mail or in the comments section.

We're looking forward to the discussion! We want to hear from others whether Catholic religious life in the old days was one of evangelical poverty and holy detachment or one of secular privilege and worldly attachment. In addition, we'd like to hear from you about the educational qualifications of teaching nuns from the past.

So, for your consideration, here are the facts — "just the facts, ma'am," as Sgt. Joe Friday used to implore back in the '50s. You be the judge about whether the swampland convent represents an authentic religious community for women as the real Catholic Church understood it before the crisis:

⎃ The mother of the head "nun" not only teaches at the school all day, she remains after school hours and shows up on Saturdays to do chores, clean, and run errands for the overworked "nuns."

⎃ Parents and cult members shower the spoiled "nuns" with gifts.

⎃ There are unconfirmed reports that the "nuns" are registered at upscale stores for Christmas presents.

⎃ The "nuns" are allowed frequent visits and yearly, week-long vacations at their families' homes. They spend at least one day per month at their parents'.  They are also permitted to go on family outings for shopping sprees and fine dining at elegant restaurants.

⎃ The Hernando County property website records that a Big 3 family with daughters in the convent has purchased property that backs right up to the site of the future new convent. On the other side of the convent, there are family-owned LLC sites.

⎃ Girls who leave the convent are often allowed to return, especially if a parent is disappointed at their having left.

⎃ There is no indication that the "nuns" have completed college.

⎃ Meals are cooked for the "nuns" at least twice daily during the work week while they're served brunch and dinner on Sundays. They have a cultivated preference for organic, high-dollar foodstuffs. On occasion, these foodie "nuns" request the laity to prepare extravagant meals. And while they don't cook for themselves, some of these godly gourmandes love to bake as a hobby, using only the most costly ingredients. According to one report, for Christmas they requested expensive chocolates and organic teas.

⎃The children do all the cleaning and lawn mowing, and, according to several reports, the "nuns" used to leave their dirty dishes for the children to wash. At one time, students lost a half day of their education each week in order to clean and perform chores for these pampered "priory princesses," including detailing their automobiles.

. . . . . . . . . .

From all this, the Readers have to conclude that, exactly like the Novus Ordo, these so-called nuns appear to have rejected, in the words of the Encyclopedia of Catholicism, "a spirituality of separation from the world as a precondition of holiness" as they "have blurred the distinction between religious life and the laity..."

What say you?

DISORDERED ORDO VI

...Ex ore infantium... ["out of the mouth of babes"]. St. Matthew

Editor's Note: In May, you'll recall, a high-school Latin II class wrote in about the DISORDERED ORDO series.  We Readers were so impressed with the interest that we invited the teacher to provide a "guest Reader" for the June posting. (Hence the feature's earlier-than-usual appearance this month.)

Seeing that our youthful fans attend a real, accredited school with a certificated, degree-holding teaching staff and not a paddle-happy Tradistani train wreck, we expected —and received — good work. As you'll see in their efforts below, Checkie has officially become a high-school punchline.

N.B. Last names and school name have been withheld. We've also entered a few editorial explanations as well as altered the order of the e-mails, which we stitched together for ease of reading. We'll let our readership decode the teenspeak for themselves. (We had to ask relatives.)

Hi PL!!

Julie and Ahuva here. The "mean girls" from Ms. [X's] Latin II class. Thanks for letting us Guest Reader your blog. If we do a good job our teacher will give extra credit. PLEASE PLEASE get back to her before you guys post this!!! The school year is almost over. The kids in our class are high achievers... A 90 around here is like a  C+😜...

We don't understand all that Catholic stuff but the Latin posts rock. Ahuva is Jewish and my family is Unitarian Universalist... Nobody in class gets emo over your "ferocity" like those wimps [in the comments section, Ed.]...  You old dudes are dope and your posts are gnarly... Both of us plan to take the AP [Advanced Placement, Ed.]. Latin Course and Exam later on and study some Classics in college...

Our teacher didn't tell you we created the ERRONEOUS ANTONIUS AWARD for dumb mistakes. Ahuva's brother drew this sketch from creepy web images and printed out 100s of stickers.

When we correct our work in class we put a sticker on the paper if there's a "howler" as you guys call it. Then we throw shade on the guilty kid, point and sing "er-RON-e-ous an-TON-i-us!!!"😏 It's like ROTFL.

Our school is super competitive which is why other classes want the stickers. The "bro club" in Latin IV made T-shirts that say: STUDY OR END UP LIKE with the "Erroneous Antonius" face underneath. On the back it says DON'T BE A N00B...

For our DISORDERED ORDO we each picked out two errors from "Moneyman Dan's" ORDO 2016... 

From Ahuva:

Pax and שָׁלוֹם, All Knowing Readers: Dumb Dan doesn't know much about subject-verb agreement.  3rd graders know plural nouns take plural verbs and in Latin I like in the 1st week we learned plural subjects of plural verbs are nominative plural.

Uncanny Dannie must never have gone to school or else why did he say [on page 49, Ed.]  "Si plures Missas habetur." If his parents sent him to a real school, he would have written "Si plures Missae habentur." Goyim trash hate education.😵 [N.B. Dannie meant to say in Latin "If several Masses are held," but instead of writing the nominative plural Missæ + the 3rd. person plural verb habentur, His Deficiency used the accusative plural noun and the 3rd person singular. Wee Dan's crazy Latin translates something like "If it is had several Masses." Huh? Very, very illiterate. Ed.]

Also Little Endorphn Dannie can't decline 3rd declension nouns.  The tool wrote [on p. 94, Ed.] "cum unica oratio", the nominative instead of the ablative "oratione!" [N.B. There's no period after "oratio" in "One Hand's" ordo, so it's clearly not an abbreviation. The Wee One's key to abbreviations lists "or" for "oratio." Ahuva nailed Dim Dan fair and square. You go, girl! Ed.] 

Reader didn't they have special ed classes back in the 1950's? In public school he could have gotten help...

All "One Hand" can make is mistakes. When we get back for Latin III in Sept., we want to start a new "award" for students that don't make an effort. It's called the DANNIE DON'T CARE PRIZE. People like him bring down our school test scores. We have to drag those kind to the ground.👎

My brother printed tons of stickers. Nobody wants to be an ERRONEOUS ANTONIUS and nobody will want to win the DANNIE DON'T CARE PRIZE.

BTW my brother asked what you think about the Latin [inscription written on the caricature, Ed.]. He bet Julie and me you "ole timers" know where he got it from...

From Julie:

I want to back Ahuva. "One Hand Dan" is clueless about the 3rd declension. Did he flunk  Latin I? [On p. 74 next to 18 Feria V, Ed.] I found "de Assumptionis". It should be "de Assumptione" [ablative singular, Ed.]. Did he think "is" is ablative plural? Can some body tell him "Assumptionis" is genitive singular. 

The next error is [on page 34 next to 25 Feria VI, Ed.] where Dimwit Dan wrote "Crux Altari tegitur" for "The Cross of the Altar is covered". I looked it up, there is no such word as "altarus, -i" in Latin [i.e., a second declension form, Ed.]. Webster says "altar" is from "altare" and my teacher says it's 3rd declension. That means Lame Dan should write "Crux Altaris tegitur". It weirds me out when a priest cannot decline the Catholic word for "altar." Our new name for the Dirtbag is DECLENSION DEPRIVED DANNIE 👿...

Thanks for making Latin way live. Here is a totally savage drawing of DISCIPLINE DONNIE. We can't think of an award to use it on. Our school is upper middle class so we don't have all the acting out the low class cult "schools" do. All of us are college bound... Our parents are top professionals with degrees. Julie's dad is an MBA and her mom is a PhD psychologist. My stepfather is a podiatrist and my mom is a lawyer. We know how to act in school. If you want you can give it to the priest or nun who hands out the most whacks. The cults can hold the "Paddle Games" for the national championship. LOL

Nicely done, ladies. Full marks, we'd say. We concur: it's a disgrace that a "priest" can't write the correct genitive singular of the later Latin word for the Christian altar. But then, "One Hand" may not be a priest. 😱

Before closing, we think our DISORDERED ORDO series must be making Dannie self-conscious. In the June 5 $GG bulletin, we came across what may be a new feature called "KNOW YOUR LATIN." It's clearly an attempt to convince the Gerties that Dannie and his clown crew are true Latin experts despite all our solid evidence that they aren't.

As usual, Li'l Daniel only succeeds in showing how much he doesn't know. Take the following, for example (our emphases):

With its conjugations and declensions, Latin can seem intimidating to learn. But it’s as simple as two plus two equals four. No, really: Plus is a Latin preposition. It means “more.” 

Sorry, Dumbo Dan, but plus is not a preposition in Latin: it's either a noun or an adverb. It's in English where plus is used as a preposition — and sometimes as an adjective or, depending on the register, as a noun or even as a conjunction. (And if Latin is so simple, why didn't Your Inaccuracy and Checkie learn it?)

In another example of ignorance of both English and Latin, we read (emphases ours):

Like plus, minus was used for subtraction starting in the Middle Ages. It means “less” in Latin and is formed on the comparative adjective, minor ...

No, again, Dannie... plus was never "used for subtraction": plus, meaning "increased by," is used for addition. Therefore, minus, meaning "decreased by, less," is not "like" plus in the way His Incompetency's sloppy writing suggests. The word minus is like plus in the sense that it's a Latin word, become an English preposition, used to indicate an arithmetic operation.

In addition, minus is not "formed on the comparative adjective." It IS a comparative adjective*: minor is the nominative singular masculine and feminine comparative used for parvus -a -um, and minus is the neuter nominative and accusative singular comparative used for parvus -a -um. In its English usage as a preposition (or in Latin as an adverb or a noun), it's like plus.

Deficient Dan and Bonehead Tone have got to stop talking about Latin altogether. Not even the Gerties are impressed. The Beevis and Butthead of Tradilandia will never know their Latin. Like most other things in their shallow lives, it's beyond their limited capacities. Latin should be left to real Catholics — and to bright, educated young people from other dispensations.

*Actually, as Palmer explains, "minus is, properly speaking, not a comparative at all, but a neuter substantive..." (The Latin Language, p. 253), and both plus and minus as adverbs are "fossilized...[a]ccusatives" of nouns (p. 282). But if His Insufficiency can't get the 3rd. declension right, how could we expect him to be conversant with Latin philology? C'mon, folks: don't fall for anything this ignoramus tells you: chances are, it'll be wrong.

KNAVES' NEW WORLD

There's a new world coming/And it's just around the bend./There's a new world coming:/This one's coming to an end. Mama Cass Elliot

Tradistan's undergoing a sea change.

On second thought, paradigm shift is the better term.

Mortally wounded by non-stop disclosures following the 2009 $GG "School" Scandal, the sede kingpins, both "clerical" and lay, are worriedly struggling to postpone their cults' certain demise. The rumors of the SSPX's rapprochement with Rome this November have breathed enough hope into the discredited cult to warrant a reboot. But the changes won't be directed toward attracting fresh suckers. Their purpose will be to retain the few they still have.

Quite simply, newcomers will not come flooding into the cult temples, as their old business model predicted. There's far too much on the web about the cult "clergy's" hypocrisy and lunacy. The handful of Catholics who might exit the SSPX will stay away from the weird "bishop-led" cults, preferring in their stead unaffiliated "chapels." They won't want to jump out of the fire and into the frying pan of Tradistani internecine warfare, where malformed "clergy" without jurisdiction viciously squabble over turf like trailer-trash bar girls over the lone paying customer in a roadside honky-tonk.

As thick headed as the cult masters and their vested benefactors are, they sense their troubles are overwhelming. Growth is impossible. Retrenchment is the only option. The violent disruption to Sedelandia wrought by Dannie, Checkie, and the amazingly still-employed "principal" has produced a Damascene moment: Tradistan must take a different direction — a movement inward, not outward. Isolation, not engagement, is what's required.

The Readers note two new developments that suggest to us what can only be called a swiftly nearing revolution in Sedelandia. Viewed through the lens of experience in Tradtown, they lend support, we believe, to a highly plausible theory.

The first development comes from the Florida cult compound. Unconfirmed but reliable reports tell us the Clone has turned over the cult "school" to a "nun"; he's now spending his time exclusively at the "seminary" pesthouse. If true, this is the surest sign of a looming consecration: December will mark the Clone's 15th anniversary as a "priest," so his birth-right miter is long overdue. Besides, by anyone's reckoning, it's time for a new boy bishop in Trad Nation USA: The Ham Sandwich and the Long Island Jellyfish have been real duds.

Over the last month or so, not a few of our correspondents have energetically disputed Pistrina's conjecture of an impending swampland mitering. These writers argue there would then be two "bishops" serving just the one, rapidly depopulating cult compound. Such an arrangement, they insist, is hardly necessary for confirmations and holy orders.

Our answer to that sensible objection brings us to the second development. In the May 2016 pesthouse newsletter (click here), Big Don announced in his wonted ungainly, monotonous prose:

Shortly I will found an organization of traditional Catholic priests. This is something which has been sorely lacking for decades, and accordingly is something which I have desired to do for a long time. The constitutions have been written. I have been working on them since 2004. We are now merely putting the finishing touches upon them. They comprise twenty-eight pages and over 11,000 words.

When the Donster morphs into Tradzilla, he "conveniently" won't have the time to minister to the shrinking swampland culties.  He'll be jetting first-class all over the U.S. and Europe, living large while herding members into his new "order." As an excuse for putting on his travelin' shoes, he'll claim recruits won't necessarily come running just because he sets up a new organization. He'll have to reach out to them. (That's true enough: Most trad "priests" love being independent, with no one to answer to.)

MR. WORLDWIDE will then announce he has to wine-and-dine prospective members, hand out lots of swag, give conferences, establish a headquarters with a staff, and most importantly round up new benefactors. All of which would interfere with his current rôle as the Grand High Panjandrum of the fetid swampland cult along with its amateur "clerical" trade school. With the Kid newly kitted out in Gammarelli pontificals, Big Don can plausibly say he'll be leaving the cult in good hands.  And definitely he'll have to hit the road, chiefly to corral new donors. The Big 3 cult families assuredly won't fund this crazy, money-pit of a scheme.  The Donster's got to look elsewhere.

So you better hold on to your assets, Our Lady of the Sun: We bet you're first on the list!

So there you have it: the founding of the new group furnishes Don with a timely excuse to bow gracefully out of Brooksville after the Clone gets what's due to him. All along Big Don has understood that when that happens, he's toast. With their very own "bishop" — one of them, not a nasally shouting, hellfire-and-brimstone Flushing rat outsider — the élite families in the swamp can unblock their social media accounts and enjoy the good life in public, free at last of the nasty consequences attendant to Discipline Donnie's unsavory (and costly) union with "One-Hand" Dan and Erroneous Antonius. Don't forget: the Big 3 have enough offspring of their own to supply "priests," "nuns," "parishioners," and spankable crumb-crushers for many generations to come. With Big Don on the road, they can go back to flaunting online their privileged lives of scuba diving, swimming, and cycling.

Admittedly, at the moment, all this is pure speculation.  But it's not unwarranted by the circumstances and the evidence. Wee Dannie, with the assistance of Cheeseball Checkie, gutted Tradistan by refusing to right the wrongs at $GG "School." By removing instead staff who protested the ill treatment of children, the duo set in motion events that brought the U.S. sede cults to the ruin they face today. Naked self-preservation requires a new business model, but this time it's one of contraction and disengagement.

Wee Dan and Phony Tony are already out of the picture, so there's nothing to write on that score. They'll play no part in Tradistan 2.0. All that remains for them is to find a pricey retirement bungalow and disappear. Big Don will soon be off on his fool's errand to organize trad "clergy," an effort doomed to disaster in the same way Dannie's "little Salesian Society" failed to launch.

Nobody's going to take orders from Tradzilla except twitching pesthouse completers along with the  lard bucket "Independent-Study" Uneven Steven. (But $GG itself won't last too much longer under "One Hand's" successor, even if Li'l Daniel turns that tub-o'-guts into a "bishop" to spite the Kid and his pa.) In the end, the Donster will alienate anyone new who does sign on. Discipline Donnie's whole enterprise will be an expensive sham aimed at making him seem useful while easing him out of the cult compound. When the money dries up, he'll declare victory and close down the operation as he fades into a bitter retirement. Alone, he'll be left to contemplate the wrenching truth that his career peaked at the 2009 $GG School Scandal, which then felled him along with Wee Dan.

Meanwhile, the Brooksville Big 3 will turn safely in upon themselves, attending to the core families that compose the cult while keeping the outside world at bay. At that point, no longer will grasping "bishops" prowl Traddielandia in search of fresh donors to feed on. Independent, small Mass centers will be the rule, as "clergy" try to keep their flocks from the folds of the FSSP and SSPX by denying any association with the dying "bishop-led" cults. Only the CMRI didn't get the memo, as evidenced when they recently called Erroneous Antonius "one of the foremost traditional theologians and apologists of our times." (LOL) Those perennial losers joined themselves at the hip to the SW Ohio-Swampland cult cabal at the very hour of its disintegration. No one said they were smart. Timing, they say, is everything.

 Oh, well, out with the old, in with the new. We can't wait.

Meanwhile...STARVE THE BEAST.

THE MIGHTY WORKING

"'That is well said," replied Candide, "but we must cultivate our garden." Voltaire

In Dirtbag Dan's "Bishop's (?) Corner" of April 24, we read the following hysterical demand for increased lay servitude to the five malingering $GG "clergy":

... true communion is demonstrated not only at the Communion Rail, but also at church in general. If everybody does something, at least a little, it would get done, and done well, without being a burden for the same few who do so much. So, help us by your contribution not only in the collection, but also by cleaning. An hour or two some Saturday, a little gardening in the evening, some ironing at home or church, these are all needs of ours. Drop off a meal, pick up a project, or a broom or a rake. If everyone does a little, it would get done. If you need a suggestion, speak to me.

If we were Gerties, this is what we'd tell His Idleness to his face:

You first, Buster. What little something will you, Erroneous Antonius, Lurch, Uneven Steven, and the Forlorn Finn be doing along with us to get all this manual work "done, and done well"? Why can't you needy slouches "commune" a bit by pitching in with a little gardening, ironing, cleaning, or fixing your own meals? If the weekly collection isn't enough to pay for normal maintenance and upkeep, maybe you all should stop going on all those frequent, expensive trips to Florida, Mexico, and Ecuador!

On second thought,  if Dannie were a leader and not a moocher, he'd be the first one to "pick up a project, or a broom or a rake." And he'd make sure those four other loafers showed a little hustle, too. But from all appearances,  the "clerical" do-nothings can't be bothered to make the least effort: Just take a close look at the above photo of Dannie's shabby "cloister garden." (BTW, up there on the roof, is that a turkey buzzard poised to scavenge all the rot and decay at $GG?)

The unsightly, tawny stems look like they're four inches high, while the dandelion heads have ripened into nasty blowballs. Indeed, the wretched patch has been so neglected that many dying  plants have already dispersed their noxious achenes to befoul other areas of the diseased cult plot. We'd wager that millions of 'em have zoomed over to infect the well-kept, healthy lawns of respectable nearby residences.
You know, they shouldn't call Dannie's littered dump SGG any longer: that blighted wasteland is SPG, Satan's Play-Ground, as one witty correspondent cleverly observed.

We've asked this question before, but it's worth asking again:

Why couldn't one of these work-shy, malformed deadbeats have applied some commercial dandelion killer at the beginning of spring?

A few minutes of mild exercise earlier in the season would've prevented the eyesore. And while we're on the subject of eyesores, why didn't one of these idlers edge the mulch beds around His Delicacy's sickly flowers? (As we've observed elsewhere, all that's missing in the picture is a rusting pick-up truck on cinder blocks to prove hillbillies are squatting on ratty Rialto Road.)

The answer to both questions is that the five of them are too busy wasting their time on dumb projects, such as Cheeseball's amateur Internet apostolate, Dannie's printing sloppy calendars and compiling incompetent ordines, or the cult masters' snooping around trying to find out about others' episcopal lineages. Dannie has enough problems of his own in that respect, so he's fooling no one when he dispatches lay stooges to forage for information. (BTW, if "One Hand" or Big Don tries to attack, these men are ready 'n' waiting for 'em.)

As the cult center continues to crumble, His Inefficiency should be rounding up dirty-Gertie work crews instead of nosing into other people's business. From his own account of the violent rainstorm bursting through the cult center's side vent, carelessly left open during the enormously expensive HVAC replacement, Dirtbag Dan better put the cultlings to work ASAP.

The beaten-down cult victims obviously are resentful. Otherwise His Audacity wouldn't have to shame them into spending more of their precious time slaving away while he and his goof-off posse refuse to lift a sticky finger.  Charity commands us to help the "SPG" press-gang endure the monotonous hours of exhausting drudgery that Master Dan has in store for them. To that end, we wrote a work song — you know, something in the spirit of "Whistle While You Work," or, in the Gerties' case, "Sing While You Slave."

A few weeks back, May 7-8 to be precise, in his grubby "Corner," His Nesciency babbled how he admired the movie tune "At the Codfish Ball," performed at the $GG Shirley Temple Festival and Spring Wing Ding. (Wasn't the event "denominated" — as "One Hand" so learnedly wrote — "Cartloads of Harm"?  Uhhh ... we forget.)  Anyhow ... we thought, why not just change the words since Li'l Daniel digs the ditty?  Gerties can start memorizing this week as they get set for an arduous summer season of forced labor. Let Curly Top help lighten the load: all you need to do is tippity-tap right here for a sing along, substituting our brand-new lyrics:

“At the Cultlings’ Fête”

Next Sunday morn you’re all recruited

To work from noon to six.

All the suckers and the hicks

Are keen to donate.

It’s some chain gang: they’ll all curse, “Dang!”

Both the hilljack and the knave,

They'll show up to be my slave,

As I tailgate.

Come along, and grab a broom,

Break your back, and sweep my room,

While I choose what to consume

At the Cultlings’ Fête.

Gerties raking wild crab grass

Step on shards of shattered glass;

Granny busts her ancient —

At the Cultlings’ Fête.

Frazzled mommies fix our meal

Gratis (What a deal!);

The widows iron 'til they upchuck,

But they can’t press duck for my swell potluck.

Dads are doomed to mow the lawn

(They won’t finish until dawn),

While I lazily look on

At the Cultlings’ Fête.

Come along and grab a broom,

Break your back, and sweep my room,

While I choose what to consume

At the Cultlings’ Fête, etc.

On second thought, don't waste your time. Get out of the cult today!