The Fourteen Holy Helpers by Puff's Blog About Stuff

Wonderful, and you can read it here .

Mundabor on Atheocracy, Democracy, Freedom - Bishop Conley and Ronald Reagan

Excellent post from Mundabor here.

Does Anyone Know if DePaul UK is still Catholic?

It was formerly the de Paul Trust.

Does anyone know, please?

An LOD Inspector Calls - and is Made Mincemeat Of

It is eight o'clock on a Sunday evening at the house of Mr and Mrs Innocenti, somewhere in rural England. In a comfortable, not very tidy room, the Innocentis, who are probably in their seventies, are playing Blue Monk (listen to the original here) by Thelonious Monk, he on alto saxophone, she on piano. A bottle of Jack Daniels stands on top of the piano. There is a crucifix on the wall. The doorbell rings.

Mrs I: I'll go! You can change your reed. 

[exit. Returns with a man and a woman. He is aged about 40, with no hair, a rather low-cut t-shirt, shorts, knee-socks, and big suede boots. He is carrying a clipboard. The woman is also about 40 years old, tall, with short hair, glasses, a permanent thin-lipped beatific smile, and is dressed in baggy denims and Mongolian tractor-tyre sandals. She carries a fat briefcase.]

Petronella Gaskammer: Good evening. Mr and Ms Innocenti?

Mr I: And who the bloody hell are you pair of freaks?

PG: Mr Innocenti. Swearing and personal insults are unacceptable. Do not speak to us like that. I am Inspector Petronella Gaskammer, and my colleague is Mr Dwane Totenlager. We are from LOD, the Lifetime Options Directorate. Have you heard of LOD, Ms Innocenti?

Mrs I: The euthanasia gang? Get out! We're busy. And I'm Mrs, not Ms, you dingy, rebarbative baggage.

DT: Ms Innocenti (or can I call you Maria?) we are here to help.

MrI: No you may bloody not! You and your grotesque sidekick can get your repulsive selves out of here now.....

PG If you persist in being disruptive and abusive, this meeting cannot continue. You are both senior citizens occupying a very large house with five bedrooms and a very big garden..

Mrs I: Which is ours, paid for years ago out of our hard work.

PG: Of course, but there are other families who need accomodation, Maria, and they need it more than you do.

DT: And your medical records (reads from clipboard) show that you, Peter Innocenti, are suffering from prostate cancer as well as degeneration of two prosthetic hips, while Maria has had three operations for ...

Mrs I: And what makes that your business?

PG: It is our job to help people make the right end-of-life decisions. We are both trained counsellors. We are here to explain the options you have.

If you choose euthanasia now, your five children will inherit your home, which is worth over a million pounds, without inheritance tax or capital gains tax. Your cremation and multi-faith funeral will be at the state's expense, and you will have the satisfaction of helping your family, relieving them and the state of the burden of looking after you, and enabling the large pensions you both receive..

Mrs I: Which we paid for...

DT: To be spent on projects and enterprises for the Common Good.

Mr I: And if we don't choose to be put down?

PG: Then your home will be subject to a compulsory purchase order. The price, taking into account your ages, both nearly eighty, will be reduced actuarily to about fifty thousand pounds. You will be rehoused in a Seniors' Facility. You will not, once you have made your decision, be entitled to any free medical treatment, other than euthanasia at such time as our medical experts deem fit, usually on your 85th birthdays. Perhaps you would like to make a cup of tea and consider your decision.

DT: But please don't take too long. We have two more calls to make.

Mr I: [to Mrs I] You'd better sit down, my love, and think about it. I'll make us a coffee. [exit to kitchen. Sounds of kettles etc.]

DT: It's quite painless you know, and think how much better life will be for your family. The facility is waiting outside.

[A minute passes. Sounds from kitchen. Mr Innocenti returns carrying a chainsaw.]

Mr I: Damn you both to Hell! [He starts the chainsaw and makes shrieking mincemeat of the LOD personnel.]

I would like to have finished by saying that the Innocentis were rescued after their heroic last stand, but I fear that in the insane and bleak future which we face, there will be no rescue. 

God help us!

Eternity Waits.

At Mass today a sign near the Sanctuary read:

CZAS UCIEKA

WIECZNOŚĆ CZEKA

(TIME FLIES

ETERNITY WAITS)

Perhaps unoriginal, but it still scared me. I hope that, after reading it, I made an adequate confession.

Croissants and Coffee - on a Lighter Note

Croissants (with butter and jam) and coffee together make my ideal breakfast, even more so now that I know their origin.

King Jan Sobieski III found coffee amongst the baggage left behind by the Turks after his victory at the Battle of Vienna in 1683, and introduced it to Poland.

The Poles celebrated the victory by baking croissants so they could eat the Turkish and Islamic crescent.

Sad News from Ttony at The Muniment Room

Ttony is thinking of posting no more on The Muniment Room - I sincerely hope he decides to continue. It's one of the blogs I visit whenever I'm on line.

Please read the post I've linked to above. His wise, temperate, and always very readable blog would be a real loss.

Imbeciles or Worse

"Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity." - Hanlan's Razor (posted by an anonymous commentator on an earlier blog).

So, the question arises: is the Catholic Church in England being run by imbeciles, or worse?

Badger Catholic - Why Death Became Part of Nature

Badger Catholic has a fine post explaining the reasons why death is necessary.

Well worth reading.

Did Bonfire Night Trump SPUC? We Want the Truth

The ever-vigilant Linen on the Hedgerow points out that a SPUC fund-raising event on 5th November in Bath will probably not take place, since no reply has been received from Bishop Declan Lang to a request to use the city's main church hall.

What are we to think?

We know that in "thinking Catholic" circles of the Blairite persuasion SPUC is an object of scorn, but has the disease infected the hierarchy as well?

Or perhaps the hall has already been ear-marked for a Guy Fawkes night party?

My mind is weary from boggling.