Category: Uncategorized

BAM.

In case the vapidly hysterical tone and nakedly heretical content weren’t persuasive enough …

PIC two comets will collide prophecy meme

 

the semi-literate and painfully obviously phony visionary known as Maria Divine Mercy has been condemned by the Archdiocese of Dublin:

Archbishop Diarmuid Martin wishes to state that these messages and alleged visions have no ecclesiastical approval and many of the texts are in contradiction with Catholic theology.

These messages should not be promoted or made use of within Catholic Church associations.

Good. Not that anyone dumb enough to be duped will be smart enough to listen to the archdiocese.

Sometimes you come across bogus visionaries who appear sincere but genuinely insane. I block ‘em all the time on the Register.  This Maria Divine Mercy person, though, whoever she is, always came across as very cynical and calculating. Exploiting people’s fears is always awful, but doing it in the name of Our Lady is so incredibly odious and offensive.  Man, you do not want to mess around with God’s Mama. I suppose we should pray for the hoaxster, along with all the people she’s duped.

I also suppose we’re back to spotting Betty Grable Our Lady on grilled cheese sammiches.

PIC OL of Grilled Cheese

 

Somehow this seems preferable. There is something touching in the witness of a person who knows she is going to be mocked, but goes ahead and insists that Mary kinda came to her anyway, right on her plate. (Of course this particular sandwich sold on eBay for $28,000.)

My favorite detail about this relic is that it has a bite out of it! Ha. We need a Catholic version of McGruff the Crime Dog, who can go around sniffing out deviant mysticism, and biting it.  In fact, I volunteer, because I am hungry. Stupid diet.

 

–1–

As I may have mentioned, last night I sang everybody’s favorite song in the world that is easy to sing and that no one is at all tired of hearing, because Robin met (and beat!) the $4,000 mark for her soap-making enterprise.  I did practice, kind of a lot.  I’m telling you this now, because you definitely will not be able to tell.

 

–2–

Yesterday, I told the kids that if they did their evening chores really quickly, we would be able to watchFrozen, which they hadn’t seen yet. Note: my eight-year-old daughter was on kitchen duty last night. So this morning, I open the cabinet, and find this shoved in the back:

If you can’t tell, that is chili and sour cream.  A pot full of it, plus four bowls full of it.  And it smelled great at 6:15 a.m. after sitting out all night, oh yes it did.

 

–3–

I really liked the movie! I don’t think there was any homophiliac undertones — or if there were, they were the right ones:  hey, maybe you’re born with something that makes it really difficult to interact with other people; but the solution isn’t to just cut yourself off from life.  You’re lovable and valuable, and your job is to control and channel the thing that makes you different so that you become stronger.

Anyway, it could just as easily have been about being autistic, or artistic, or having a weird sense of humor, or whatever.  Things clearly went bad (for herself and everyone she cared about) when she just let her unbridled interior self go on a rampage, so I honestly don’t see what’s to argue with, here.

My only other commentary on this movie is: what did she eat when she was in her frozen castle? She can make ice skates and whatnot with her mind ice, but can she make hamburgers? What was the long-term plan there?

 

–4–

Despite what you will hear me warble, almost nothing bothers me more than being cold. I was blue and oxygen deprived when I was born, and my thyroid is stupid, and I am cold cold cold all the time. When I open the windows to catch a little bit of that sweet springtime breeze, I turn the heat on, because I do no to want to be cold, not even for one second. Well, now they know.

 

–5–

Benny was big-eyed throughout the whole movie, and periodically cried out, “Poor Elfa!  Poor Elfa!” and occasionally, “Poor mottster!” (What the heck was that snow monster for, anyway? They totally didn’t need him.) I thought it was funny that she couldn’t pronounce “Elsa,” which isn’t really hard to say. Then I remembered that I was teaching her the Greek alphabet for a parlor trick the other day.  Alpha! See, she is listening to me! Just not when I say, “Please stop punching Mama’s head, Benny.”

 

–6–

Now I’m just stalling.

 

–7–

And now I’m not.  Just remember, this hurts me more than it does you.

Well, if you think we’ve all suffered enough, why not drop a few bucks in Robin’s goatmilk soap fundraiser?  If we hit the $5,000 mark, I solemnly swear, with the internet as my witness, that I will never again record a video of me singing a power ballad for the purpose of raising money for a goatmilk soap fundraiser. What more could you possibly want?

Time for this big mouth to Google “Let It Go karaoke lower pitch.” And find out if we still have any Percocet in the house.

Stay tuned. And hey, Robin is still hoping to hit the $5,000 mark! Every penny will go to something good and worthwhile, I promise you. It’s much easier to make wonderful soap when you’re not worried about paying for rent and groceries until that first batch sells.  Thank you, so much, to everyone who’s donated so far. Except for Brandon Vogt, and Brandon Vogt knows why.

Use this link and get my book directly from Our Sunday Visitor for only $8. You too can have the SGNFP experience, now at a discount . . . BUT FOR HOW LONG????*

* a few weeks