SETTING A BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK

He who gives a beggar something to eat or drink deserves no gratitude, for he loses whatever he gives and helps to prolong a wretched life. Plautus

Oh, man, are the Gerties in for it!

Witness this excerpt from Dannie's "Corner" last week:

We are slowly, very slowly repairing the asphalt of the parking lot, bumpity bump. Virgil the air conditioning man came by with a crane and a new unit for the altar, which should help once it’s finally connected. The old unit on St. Joseph’s side had a little more life in it after all. And did you see the restored grotto fountain? Viola! [sic!] Beautiful ... Much repair and maintenance remain, but each project accomplished is no small victory, and we are grateful.    

Since we'll be accused of pettiness no matter what, let's get one little thing out of the way:

Unless there's a new flunky Gertie Gal named Viola to do Panhandlin' Dan's bidding, we guess he meant to write Voilà, the French defective verb that English speakers sometimes jocularly use as an interjection. (Among social-climbing semi-literates in the U.S., it's often pronounced "wall-AH," with a really dark l [ɫ].)

But back to our topic, which today tackles (1) the cult's seeming absence of good management practices and (2) the looming specter of a new begging initiative.

As we've admonished so often in the past, the cult masters should've been saving all along for maintenance and repair instead of taking lavish trips, buying a new organ when the old one could have been fixed, and running a "$chool" that apparently doesn't generate the revenue to cover its operating costs, let alone contribute to the cult center's general fund.

From the way Dan writes, we'd have to say there's not enough moolah around to patch all the potholes in the parking lot or to perform routine upkeep elsewhere. Well-organized Catholic families sacrifice luxuries for the peace of mind that a "rainy-day fund" brings. Why can't trad "clergy" emulate the laity's example? Surely imitating lay prudence wouldn't diminish Tradistan's hard-core clericalism — or would it? If $GG $chool were to close down, think of the tens of thousands of dollars that would be freed up annually to complete the many remaining projects.

For those of you who haven't learned to read between "One Hand's" lines, last week's message is more than the straightforward progress report it purports to be. In our estimation, it reads like a strong hint about impending big expenses that Gerties might be asked to underwrite. The first of which may be a new AC "unit on St. Joeseph's side." Observe how His Necessity was careful to describe it as "old" but pregnantly added it has "a little more life in it." But then ... just how little is "little"? Are Gerties being prepared for a day, in the not too distant future, when that unit will must be replaced? In March 2016, a new unit was to cost "the princely sum of $11,000 to $12,000." Will this one cost the same, or more?

According to $GG bulletins, two recent weekly collections came in under four grand. Maybe the beggarly haul represents a trend. Maybe it's only the summertime lull. We doubt it's the latter, though. Based on the urgency of recent pleas for dollars,  Gerties apparently must be becoming reluctant givers. The years of free-spending have made the culties — who're facing economic uncertainties of the own —wary.   From our vantage point, the cult masters' frequent and sudden demands for emergency bucks have produced terminal giving fatigue, the bane of any organization whose business model relies on others' generosity. Once a customary giver says no to an entreaty, it gets easier and easier to say no when a beggar again rattles his cup.

If you don't believe us, then do a little introspection of your own. Maybe the first couple of times when a cashier hustled you to kick in a dollar more or round up your total to benefit a charity, you said OK. You didn't like the soft coercion, but you went along with it all the same. In all honesty, you were too embarrassed not to. Then after you got out to your car, however, you felt used. You hated yourself for not having the guts to resist the thinly veiled arm-twisting.

Finally, one day you looked an inquiring cashier in the eye and grunted, "No, thanks" to her cheerful solicitation for you to part with more of your hard-earned money. At the time, you may have felt a little uncomfortable, a bit sheepish even. But when you got outside, you were proud you didn't cave. You straightened up and put a spring in your step. The next time it got easier, and the time after that your confident refusal came as effortlessly as breathing. Now you don't even add "thanks."

That's what's happening at the SW Ohio cult.  That's why the Wee One's asphalt repair job is going  "slowly, very slowly." Vehicles will continue to go "bumpily bump," and projects will remain undone: Gerties no longer see their own good in giving to $GG. Pressured by the cultlings' aggressive resistance to appeals for more cash, the mooching cult masters may have to mount a major, but ultimately unsuccessful, offensive on Gertie discretionary income.  In the weeks to ahead, we'll be reading with extra care both the "Corner" and the bulletin in search of signs of His Mendicancy's increasing despondency.

As we suggested in last week's post, events seem to be speeding toward a game-changing financial crisis. The Gerties won't give, or at least give enough.  Dannie's needs are outsized, so he may likely have to venture something bold. When that fails, and it will, we'll see the reckoning. What form will it take? Pulling up stakes and retiring? A thorough house-cleaning? Downsizing? A melt down?

Your guess is as good as ours.

But if Beggarman Dan gallops out of town whither he belongs, the hoofbeats will echo all the way down to the fetid Swampland.