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Another Foggy Moment
These are the continuing adventures of a typical resident
of the self-proclaimed center of the Pugetopolis universe -
Seattle. Most are true stories but some are made of whole-
cloth. I ain't the Mayor, the Governor or a Big Shot. Just
another Working Stiff with a Bad Attitude.
THIS AIN'T NO STINK'N BLOG
------------------------------------------------
WARNING: This is not a Child-Proof Neighborhood.
If you're a kid - scram!, beat it! you little
punk before your Old Lady catches you and calls
the cops. They'll throw you in the Big House in
Walla Walla and won't let you out until you're
89 years old. There. Don't say I didn't warn you.
-------------------------------------------------
- 199 -
The croccus' and daffodils of spring are a distant memory. The iris'
are withering on the stem and the tulips aren't long for this world.
The Horse Chestnut trees have been sporting their 'ice-cream cones'
for weeks and many others have broken out in seed pods. Even my secret
fig tree has lots of promising little buds on it. The hundreds of
lovely roses around old Drumheller Fountain on the U Dub campus haven't
yet bloomed but it won't be long. Won't that look great with Ken &
Herman's chain-link fence around the empty fountain? It'll look like
the rose garden at Buchenwald Death Camp.
Drumheller Fountain
I noticed they finally cleaned up the mess inside the fence this
week - yet again. They pressure-hosed it back in November too.
Maybe it's going to be a bi-annual thing eh. I guess filling it
is too much to hope for. It would make it look more like a normal
fountain. The departing students goldfish have all been flushed
down the toilet by now. It should be safe.
The baby salmon in the return pond continue to restlessly fling
themselves hither and yon as they anxious await the start of their
life's journey. Ravens have to be the world's worst fishermen. They
pace the shallow edges of the pond, where the net almost touches the
water, hoping to nab a baby. But they're rarely successful. They
don't trust that net, so instead of striding confidently atop
it, they stroll along the very edge of it then attempt to run out
to nab their fish. Way too slow. I don't know why they fear the net
so. I've never seen a bird caught or tangled in it. Ravens are just
very paranoid. Nets make them nervous.
Saw my first young eagle of the year this week. A couple ravens were
dive-bombing him as he flew over. They occasionally perch in the trees
alongside the ship canal which makes the rest of the birds a little
nervous. The eagles will soon be a fairly common sight in the city's
skies as they ride the high thermals of summer.
Steve Jones, a biologist from City University (London) will be dropping
by U Dub Bookstore in June to flog his latest book. Years ago I read his
first book - "The Language of Genes" - and really liked it. He nicely
dispelled the lie about 'race', showing that science has only been able
to find one race: the Human Race. And he got a lot into the fascinating
area of population genetics, showing how cell organelles provide many
clues as to how and where populations migrated over the millenia. As
a practicing scientist, he writes with authority, and he does so in
very readable fashion. While it is popularized science, he does give his
audience credit for some degree of intelligence and avoids cartoonizing
his subject. With three books now under his belt, it seems to work.
Steve Jones Interview
HOOTERVILLE HISTORY...
It will have been 74 years ago Wednesday that James A. Moore died in
a San Francisco hotel. He's the "Moore" in Moore Theater. Born in
Ireland, his family moved to Canada's maritime province of Nova Scotia
on the east coast while he was still quite young. After dropping out
of high school, he went to work at his father's shipping company. Like
many young men he soon became restless. And like many young maritimers,
Boston was the Big Lure. Though there's no record of it, he must have
spent some time there as he had many connections to that city's banks.
Then he headed west for Denver where he stayed long enough to get
married.
He arrived in Seattle a few years before the Great Fire, loaded with
valuable Boston banking connections and a headful of big dreams. He
was responsible for much of the early development of Freemont and
Brooklyn (now the U District) as well as many other properties around
Seattle and up-Sound in Port Townsend. He's the guy who pretty much
put Capital Hill on the map with a snazzy new development he built
there - complete with gas street-lamps and real sidewalks. He named
it after Capital Hill in Denver. When the University Regents were in
a quandry as to what to do with the original downtown campus property,
he was the first to come along with a proposal to lease it and build
a city-within-a-city. They'd been trying to sell it off unsuccessfully
in the midst of a major recession. And they likely would have given
it away for a song if Jimmy hadn't come along with his lease idea.
Unlike most of the fast-money boys around Hooterville in those days,
Jimmy may have been a wheeler-dealer-supreme but he really liked
Seattle and set down firm roots here. He was deeply involved with
old Plymouth Congregational Church and many other Good Causes in
the city. A down-to-earth kind of guy with a ready sense of humor,
everybody considered him a very likeable character and an honorable
man even if he was capable of talking you out of our shorts if you
weren't careful.
He took over the derelict old Denny Hotel which had sat empty for
ten years and pumped a ton of money into it. When President Teddy
Roosevelt visited Seattle (100 years ago Thursday) he was Jimmy's
guest at the Denny. He also built the Moore Theater in 1907 - it
don't look that old does it? It's still a major performing venue
outlasting the Pantages, Metropolitan and many other theaters of
its time. He's become almost legendary for the romantic castle he
built overlooking the Columbia River near Pasco for his wife who
was dying of TB. He had to be a workaholic given all the pies he
had his fingers in - pushing for the Ship Canal, encouraging the
Denny Regrade, running ferries across Lake Union, Alaska gold
mines, his church work, theaters plus his many developments here.
They don't make 'em like that any more.
But when his wife died, a big piece of him went with her. The
memories around here were just too much for him so he tried
Florida for a while. But he soon missed the west coast. He
couldn't bring himself to return to Seattle and instead settled
in San Francisco where he did his usual promotional thing. He
visted here once during that time and the locals welcomed him
home with open arms. But he returned to Frisco anyways. For all
the glitzy and impressive things he built none of it meant as
much to him as the wife he lost. Losing her broke his heart.
You gotta admire a man that profoundly and tragically human.
STICKY WICKET...
The Seattle Cricket Club, the oldest and largest in the Northwest, is
off and running again for another season. They play their home games
out at a park near Maplewood east of Renton. Not quite Seattle proper,
it's close enough for government work. Though there are a number of
other teams around the area like the one at Microsoft's campus in
Redmond. Occasionally I've seen a pick-up game around the U Dub campus
by a few of the lads just goofing around for the afternoon. But I don't
think U Dub has a cricket team. I wonder why not?
The Mother of Baseball, cricket was Seattle's big sport up until about
WW-I times. There used to be so much of it that City Council was forced
to issue an edict banning cricketeers from city parks on account of
they were taking them over. With games typically lasting five to six
hours (and occasionally two or three days), there was no such thing as
a 'quickee'. The big teams here played teams in Portland, Olympia,
Victoria (BC) and Vancouver (BC) to sizeable crowds of adoring fans.
Only Vancouver's Brockton Point pitch in Stanley Park is left from
those Glory Years. It's still heavily used for cricket.
Back then it was dominated by Limies who had immigrated here. Now it
is dominated by Pakistanis who are keeping the cricket spirit alive
in Seattle. Back in Karachi and Islamabad, cricket stars are as big
and pampered as any major league baseball or football player is here.
And they live like kings, making Big Money even by American standards.
Seattle Cricket Club
HEEBS FOR HITLER...
I was walking down The Ave in the U District one evening this week when
I encountered a gaggle of what appeared to be protesters out front of
Tower Records. Hmmm. What could this be? Christian Fundies protesting
obscene music lyrics? Local members of the Recording Industry kicking
up Heck over those juvenille delinquents who keep stealing their music
off the Internet?
Wrong on all counts. It was an obscure local branch of Heebs 4 Hitler(*)
protesting against an alleged slight of one of their pro-Israeli Gestapo
thugs by National Public Radio. What that had to do with Tower Records is
beyond me. I guess they were afraid to try out front of U Dub Bookstore
where the crowds are bigger. A Dudish-looking lad strolling down the
sidewalk across the street from them nicely summed up the prevailing mood
when he hollered "FUCK YOU!" at them. They didn't make any friends or
impress any doubters. A Seattle cop sat nearby in his car too busy wanking
himself off to bother with crowd-control. Obviously he was there to protect
H4H from us, not us from H4H. Not many protest groups get their own cop
babysitter. But then our Pollock Police Chief is kinda partial to Nazis.
It runs in his family. Adolph always preferred Pollock janitors for his
dirty work.
* Heebs 4 Hitler: Jews have embarassingly proven to be every bit as
good at being Nazis as Germans ever were. The similarities between
Israel and Nazi Germany are amazing: the same Master Race attitude,
the same concentration camps, the same cultural genocide, the same
blind/irrational hate, the same arrogant delight in the suffering
of others, the same disregard for world opinion. They wear their
violence like a suit of clothes, just as the Nazis did. And "Good
Israelis" are just as willing to be deliberately blind to their
Mossad/IDF engaging in torture and murder as any "Good German"
ever was of the Nazi's Gestapo/Wehrmacht. No difference at all.
They've turned the beautiful dream of a Jewish homeland into a
disgusting nightmare, the ancient sacredness of the Holy Land into
a cesspool of profane stinking obscenity, the sanctuary of Israel
into a death trap and pissed all over the memory of those who died
in the Shoah. They've betrayed the trust and hope Jews the world
around had in them. People who would do such things aren't Hebrews,
they're just Heebs. Sons and daughters of Adolph, not Abraham.
Apropos to the above...this week the Canadian government rejected a
Lebanese man's appeal for refugee status. A former Mossad Israeli
intelligence spy no longer welcome in the homeland he betrayed, he
tried weaseling his way into Canada. His appeal was rejected on the
grounds that Mossad is a terrorist organization and he is a war
criminal for his involvement with them. Those aren't my words; those
are the appeal board's words. And they're based on the simple fact
that Israel tortured and murdered the prisoners in its South Lebanon
prisons. Just like the Nazis used to do.
Boycott Israel
STAKE-KNIFE & TONY...
Isn't it odd? A tiny, little country like Ireland, spawns a highly
organized, effective and ancient paramilitary resistance against
Merrie Olde England's illegal occupation. In America, we've never
been able to muster anything better than the bullshit of ignorant,
beer-bellied hillbillies in goofball operations like the KKK and
various self-proclaimed state militias dresing up in funny clothes
and acting stupid in public. The Lefties haven't been able to come
with anything even that entertaining. We've never been able to put
together a sustained, hard-core paramilitary underground of any sort
since the 30's. Heaven knows it isn't because of any competence on
the FBI's part. Their agents have been too busy selling our secrets
to various enemies and holding the door open for terrorists to come
in and take a whack at us.
This past week "Stakeknife" was revealed. He was a high ranking member
of the IRA's inner-sanctum who has been spying for England for the past
three decades or so. To safeguard his position, the English allowed him
to personally participate in the murders of over 40 British soldiers and
Protie Loyalists plus a few of his fellow British spies inside the IRA.
Rank does have its privileges. The lawyers are already lining up for
the civil lawsuits. Supposedly he was wisked away from his Dublin flat
to an undisclosed location only a day or two before he was to be Outted
by a paper in Northern Ireland. Supposedly a disgruntled ex-Limie spy
who got screwed out of compensation for his work returned the favor by
revealing Stakeknife to the papers.
That's the official story. It's anybody's guess what the real story
is. It is just as likely that the Limies staged the whole thing by
kidnapping an innocent/effective IRA operative to divert attention
from the real mole or just to preserve the vacuous notion that one
exists. The newspapers over there, like those here, don't just Out
valuable spies whenever they take a notion to. They need clearance
otherwise they're wide open for being abruptly shut-down and their
staff arraigned on treason charges. And any disgruntled ex-employee
who even hinted at revealing state secrets of that importance would
be quietly taken out with the rest of the trash - his secrets buried
with him. The accompanying rumors of the demise of the now supposedly
"untrustworthy" IRA made it even more suspicious. The whole thing
smells funny. Pretty crude work even for Limies.
I'm sure it was just a coincidence, but this week in a completely
unrelated incident, a secret wire-tapped phone conversation between
UK Prime Minister Tony Blair's top aide and the IRA's chief negotiator
was also leaked to the Media. The two boys were caught snickering at
the boobs in Northern Ireland's Protie Loyalist camp. Opps! Embarassed
the heck out of Tony. Looks like he's getting it up the poop-chute
from his own lads at MI-5.
That's his cue to say goodbye. Somebody tell Mr. Straw he's up next.
Princess Claire, the notorious Cabinet waffler, knowing a Loser when
she sees one, joined the exodus from Tony's cabinet. She's outta there.
He'll soon be whiling away his days watching old "Coronation Street"
re-runs and BBC Specials entitled "Blair: Bastard or Twit?" on the
telly at his Mum's flat after his wife boots his useless butt outta
the house. He won top honors as the "All Time Worst Briton" in a
recent poll - his place in the history books finally secure. What a
schmuck.
TEXAS TWO-STEP...
Isn't that cute? In the midst of a major budget crisis the hillbillies
in the Texas State House took some time out to play stupid political
games. Like they got nothing better to do. It was like a political
"Dumb and Dumber" with the Republicans trying to ram through bogus
redistricting and the Democrats hiding the House Quorum in an Oklahoma
hotel. Them boys is all 'et up with the Dumbass.
I remember a few years ago when the FBI ran a corruption Sting on the
Texas House. They wired up one of their Mafioso in the Protection
Program - a dark Sicilian type - to set up an off-campus office as
a bogus lobbyist. He thought he'd have to advertise that he was in
town and had cash to pass out for legislative favors. Unh unh. Every
frik'n member of the House was standing outside the door the first
morning he opened up for business. EVERYONE OF THEM! IN PERSON!
Whores can smell free money from a mile away. With real cash on the
line, they weren't about to trust any of their 'aides' and the fewer
witnesses the better. The only questions they had was: "What do you
want and how much money do I get?" The FBI got it all on tape and many
heads rolled. You think the Washington House is any better, I got a
bridge I'd like to sell you.
THE LATE GREAT TIMES...
For years I considered the New York Times the epitome of American
journalism. Even when I hated their arrogant guts I still grudgingly
respected them. Not any more. In recent years their standards have
gone down the toilet and the former journalistic legend has become
just another mundane, ordinary newspaper. They have as obediently
toed the Party Line over Yellowbelly's TWAT as any hicktown rag and
their averted vision to Israel's many obscenities is nothing less
than disgusting. They no longer report the news - they make it up.
More of a premium is put on spinning things the editor's way than
on real talent. The jerk they turfed this week for filing phony
reports just highlighted the decline. He was only try to keep his
editor happy. NYT's problems run much, much deeper than just him.
Oh well. New York has become so terribly 'yesterday' anyways. Like
a prim and proper old lady wearing smelly underwear. The urban
embodiment of America's decline. Change your Depends granny.
You stink.
.........................................................................
KATASTROPHIC ASTROPHYSICS
"The people of Lardal aren't easily scared," Sheriff Lars Helge Sogn
told reporters in Oslo, "so when we had over thirty calls from citizens,
all saying that they'd spotted a UFO and suspected meteorite, I took the
matter seriously. Dozens of observers said that they'd heard an explosion,
then spotted a fireball in the night sky, which burned for half an hour.
So I contacted the astrophysics department at Oslo University, and asked
them to investigate.
"It took them a couple of days to work out what had happened, but the
evidence is clear. We're certain that a house cat climbed up a high
tension power line just outside the town, and burst into flames and
exploded after striking the high voltage cable with its tail. The heat
from the short circuit caused the wooden mast to ignite, while the
burning cat would have looked just like a fireball as it fell to earth
on the horizon on the night of the mysterious sighting. We needed proof,
so we asked the local electricity company to check, and they found a
carbonised cat beneath one of their power masts, and a four-second glitch
in their power records. Of course, cats don't burn for half an hour, but
wooden masts do, and part of this one had burned through, having been set
alight by the unlucky tabby cat. Or jet-black cat, as he is now."
- swiped from Private Eye's "Funny Old World"
who in turn, swiped it from "Aftenposten" (Oslo, Norway) April 2003
...............................................................................
We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world - a
nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live
peacefully. We are not just whores for power and oil, but killer
whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and
that is how history will judge us.
- Hunter S. Thompson -
.........................................................................
'OL YELLER'S TWAT
(aka The War Against Terrorism)
The First Bimbo, Yeller's Hillbilly Luv-Slut Laura, got a rather
rude reception from the Navahos when she showed up for a photo-op at
the funeral of Pfc. Lorie Piestewa - the single mother of two kids who
died in an Iraqi ambush during the invasion. Navaho Veep, Frank Dayish,
gave her an earful after she bubbered some irrelevant BS about the
importance of parents reading to their children. Forget about buying
books. The Navaho are having a hard enough time putting food on the
table for their kids thanks to her Hubbie jerking himself off with
dumbass invasions instead of taking care of his responsibilities at
home. And Frank didn't even touch on that obscene Trust Fund mess in
which hundreds of BILLIONS of Injun money was ripped off by Interior
Dept. bureaucrats without so much an FBI investigation or anything.
The courts STILL haven't taken the Trust Fund away from Interior!
Maybe the judges want a little bit of that action too eh.
Apparently unable to understand anyone who doesn't speak Hillbilly,
Laura Belle gave little indication she absorbed a word he said. Or,
as is perhaps more likely, she just didn't give a hoot about what
no stink'n dirty Injun had to say. Ever the Daddy's Girl, she was
of course too polite to say so to the nice man's face and instead
just gave him one of her best vapid airhead smiles. The kind that
gives Yellowbelly a Woody.
For the second time in five years, the office of Vinnell Corporation
was bombed in Saudi Arabia. Our News Nazis slung it as a general attack
on foreigners. It wasn't. The target was far more specific. Journalists
are just Arts Majors - the catchall faculty for morons who were too
stupid to qualify for Phys Ed scholarships. Vinnell is the American
company that employs many former American military types to train the
Saudi Royal Family's personal bodyguards. Renowned for their viciousness
and operating far beyond Saudi civil law, they've buried many bodies and
made many enemies. This week, the score was evened a little. The innocent
people who died? As General Swartzkopf so succinctly put it: Collateral
Damage. Works for us; works for them. Charges that this was done by Al
Qaida are pure hallucination. Al Qaida is no more real than the Easter
Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. If you ain't figgered that much out, you ain't
been paying attention.
Vinnell Corporation
The biggest problem with being an habitual liar is repeat visits. So
discovered General Powell, our Secretary of State and the Official
White House Shoeshine Boy, on his recent return to the Holy Land.
He should have taken it as a clue when he got booed off the stage
at the recent AIPC (America-Israel Political Committee) shindig in
DC. The Israelis think he's a joke, the Palestinians think he's a
moron and Mr. Mubarek just wants to know if his check's in the mail.
Shoeshine's such a bumbling, ineffective Doofus he's making Madeline
Albright look like a regular John Foster Dulles. Well, at least Joan
Baez still believes he has potential. Kum-by-yah, y'all.
Perhaps feeling the sting of my venon, President Yellowbelly this
week finally gave that drunk he picked to run post-Saddam Iraq, a
free ticket back to whatever VFW Hall dumpster he hauled him out
of. Him and his Bimbo sidekick - the two idiots who have made such
a bungled mess out of our phony liberation of Iraq. Back to licking
envelopes at Re-Elect Yellowbelly HQ for both of them.
We got at least one warrior left with a hefty set of balls. Nope.
Don't bother with those Won't-Ask-Don't-Tell Marines or Army Rangers.
They had their balls cut off at the recruiting station. HER name is
Major Charmaine Means. That's right - a girl. When 101st Airborne
Major-General Dave "Dickhead" Petraeus ordered her to shut down the
TV station in Mosul to censor Al Jazeera's broadcasts, she told told
him "No way Jose." If General Dickhead wanted to play Saddam Hussein
he'd have to find himself another flunky to do his dirty-work. Major
Means is an AMERICAN soldier; she ain't in the stink'n Republican
Guard. While I'm sure they'll make her pay for it in spades, her
courageous refusal brought the order to a halt. Meanwhile, General
Dave is wandering around trying to remember where he left his brains.
Check up your ass Dave. That's where you usually keep them.
Al Jazeera News-service, as you may recall, was as deeply hated by
Saddam Hussein as it presently is by President Yellowbelly. Yet
another amazing similarity between the two. You'd almost think
they were brothers. Mama Barb make any trips to Iraq in her youth?
The World's Biggest Asshole may have made a royal mess out of Iraq
but there is one thing that still works perfectly well over there:
the mosques. Amidst all our deliberately inflicted chaos, daily
prayers are still called and said as Allah provides these islands
of normalcy in the swirling turbulance. He welcomes his hurt and
baffled children with open arms, offering them comfort and solace
in their hour of need. It is the one place both Sunnis and Sh'ias
can gather simply as Moslems. Saddam may have betrayed them. His
Republican Guard generals may have betrayed them. We Americans may
not give a hoot about no stink'n Ragheads. But Allah is still with
them. They remain his children.
Increasingly, all sects of Islam are coming together in the mosques:
Sunnis, Shi'as and even the Kurds. Not as seperate groups, but as a
single entity: Iraqis. Slowly, a new Islamic Republic is emerging.
One as opposed to the profanity of Saddam's regime as it is to our
own obscene occupation of their nation. One with roots throughout
the Islamic world - from Saudi Arabia to the Philipines. This wasn't
in President Yellowbelly's Crusade Vision. But he is as helpless to
stop it as he is to understand it. The imaginary Mr. bin Laden hiding
under his bed will be pleased.
Allah's stern justice is returning with a vengence. The Mullahs are
aggressively warning the whores, pornographers and bootleggers that
if they don't cease and desist pronto they gonna get their clocks
cleaned. The mullahs aren't going to wait for no American flunkies
to clean things up. America has already clearly demonstrated it's
disinterest. Fine. Iraqis will handle it themselves. And Uncle Sammy
better keep his ass outta the way if he don't wanna get hurt.
.........................................................................
I am a black South African, and if I were to change the names, a
description of what is happening in the Gaza Strip and West Bank
would describe events in South Africa.
- Bishop Desmond Tutu -
describing the apartheid state of Israel
.........................................................................
- MONDO VATICANO -
While Pope Ratso the First (Cardinal Ratzinger of the Holy Inquisition)
and his drooling Pollock dummy hid securely in their luxurious Papal
Palace deep in the heart of Vatican State, Sister Maryanne Pierre of
St. Raphael's Hospital in Baghdad had no such luxury. One of the little
known spin-offs of wars is premature births. The fear does it. During
America's Mugging of Iraq, she had her hands full delivering babies who
arrived early. Like 350 in the space of two weeks! Neither Pope Ratso
nor his cowardly Old Pollock showed up to help. They were so exhausted
from watching the invasion of CNN they needed a vacation in Spain
afterwards. Sister Maryanne wasn't invited along. She don't get
vacations.
Sister Maryanne had to dodge bullets, bombs, looters, a lack of beds
and not enough anesthesia to get the job done but she was good for it.
"This is my job to stay here and help people.", she said. As short and
sweet a Christian prayer as you're ever likely to hear - call it Sister
Maryanne's Prayer. While she got her nursing degrees in France and the
States, she is a native-born Iraqi. It may be just a co-incidence but
a lot of the girls born in Sister Pierre's hospital are being named
"Maryanne". Pope Ratso and his Pollock provided no help. And the American
liberators have contributed little useful to the success of her efforts.
As far as they're concerned, she's just another Raghead.
+
Just a few houses down from Indianapolis' St. Joan of Arc parish
school is a curious place called "The Dundgeon". A lady operates it
in her basement and it is well-known through both Yahoo and AOL
chatrooms. What makes it peculiar is that men go there to dress
up like women and be emotionally and physically abused for purposes
of sexual gratification. It's a Dominatrix house.
This has the good parishoners of St. Joan's a bit upset. Having
a house of perverts located on the same street as their school
in an otherwise bucolic residential neighborhood seems a bit
inappropriate. And they were there first, afterall. But the
city of Indianapolis says that since no actual sexual-acts are
being performed in the Dominatrix house, there's little or nothing
they can do to protect the kids. Sounds like the Mayor is a Regular
at The Dungeon eh. Where there's a will, there's a way. Like all
American politicians, Indianapolis City Hall is for-sale. Make
'em a bid.
+
America has been a good move for Philipino priest, Fr. Ernesto
Villaroya. He raped a nun in California during his first posting
and got away with. She even gave birth to Little Ernesto to
really make him proud. A judge obligingly dismissed the lawsuit
involving his piccadillo saying it was too old though the former
nun involved wasn't allowed by her bishop to bring changes against
Fr. Ernesto until well afterwards when she quit and was on her own -
with her new baby and no help from the diocese, of course. After
Ernesto proudly admitted to Banging on the nun, his bishop did
suspend him but Ernie just ignored the order and continued in his
priestly role just as before. No stink'n bishop's gonna tell him
what he can and cannot do. He had to dodge the Heat back to the
Philipines briefly but had no problem getting back into America.
Recently Dallas Bishop Charlie Grahmann felt sorry for poor
Ernesto the Rapist and reinstated him as a priest with a new
parish to plunder and pillage. When word got out, he got suspended
yet again. But Bishop Grahmann wisked him off to his buddy in
Sacramento, the Holier-Than-Thou Jackass who tried excommunicating
the Governor of California earlier this year. Holier-Than-Thou
fixed him up with another new parish and he ain't answering the
phone. Too busy praying or golfing or something eh. No word yet
on what the name of the new California parish is. Somehow you
get the feeling Ernesto will find a way to make his presence
known. He's never failed to before. It's only a question of how
many people he'll hurt this time.
+
New Boston Bishop Lennon finally found a way to stick it to
Monsignor Mike Groden. He was one of the few Boston priests who
was brave enough to speak out against Cardinal Bernie "The Pimp"
Law back before Law was forced to resign his diocese in disgrace.
Bishop Lennon says it was unethical for Fr. Mike to be pulling
down two paychecks for doing two jobs: one as pastor of St.
Cecilia's in the Back Bay and another as head of the archdiocese
Affordable Housing Agency. As excuses go that's pretty lame but
it is Boston - the Sleeze Capital of American Catholicism - and
it is Bishop Lennon - our foremost Ecclesiastical Hypocrite. You
gotta make allowances. Fr. Groden's total annual take from his
80-hour weeks was under $40k. Bishop Lennon didn't disclose how
much he's making under-the-table on this deal. That's a secret.
I once lived just off Back Bay in nearby Roxbury, Boston's black
ghetto. I know how important St. Cecilla's strategic position is.
For the ghetto people in Roxbury it is a gateway to Catholicism.
Being close to the campus of Northeastern University and with many
other university campus' nearby, the neighborhood also sports many
young people in the process of figuring out who they are.
It would have been far better to lose Bishop Lennon than Fr. Groden
under the circumstances. Bishops are a dime a dozen. Good priests
are priceless. And they don't come much better than Fr. Groden.
BTW - In a recent poll, over 80% of Boston Catholics said Bernie's
resignation was a good thing. 57% said they want to see him
prosecuted and thrown in jail for his actions as their
Cardinal. No wonder the coward moved to Conneticut eh.
He can run but he can't hide. The Law has long arms.
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This whatever-it-is operates under the patented Daily Bleed
"anti-CopyRite 2000-3000". More or less. As the product of
my imagination, I retain full pecuniary rights. My lawyer,
the Ginzu Viking, Dr. Yoshi Rasmussan LLD, anxiously awaits
the opportunity to rat-fuck you and your heirs unto eternity
if you ignore those rights. Otherwise, help yourself.
~---------------------------------------------------------------
MAIL: tofoggymoment@yahoo.com
(this mailbox is so stuffed with death-threats and spam
that I can rarely bring myself to look at it. I only
read it after getting properly liquored-up. A rare thing.)
ARCHIVE: https://www.angelfire.com/nb/afm
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