Posts Tagged ‘Catholics’

Another Reason I’m a Recovering Catholic

Monday, June 29th, 2009

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I got into a typical, intellectually-bereft discussion with a few catholics who had been brainwashed into their ‘abortion is wrong’ conclusion – but couldn’t think of the reasons why. I brought up at least five solid, immediate ways we could  end three-quarters of abortions (no one – including me – thinks abortions are a great choice) but they gave me a confused, “Priest didn’t talk about this” look. Sorry, Sheeple. Back to the fields.

Do you want to know one reason I DESPISE the catholic Church?

Did you ever meet my brother, Joseph? No? Neither did I. He was born one year before me in 1949. He was born ‘stillborn’. My parents were crushed. Can you possibly imagine scrimping and saving for a bassinet and baby clothes, getting the the room ready and all – and then trying to find or borrow money for a baby casket and funeral?

My Mom wanted to be a nun. Thankfully (for me) she changed her mind. But she never stopped being a traditional catholic and was sorry when the “mass” went from Latin to English. So was I. It didn’t make any sense in Latin – it made less sense when I learned what they were trying to say in English.

Anyway, my parents planned their little white-casket baby funeral BUT Joseph couldn’t be buried in a catholic cemetery BECA– USE HE WASN’T BAPTIZED. Now maybe they could have dumped him in the dirt just outside the fence (cremation then not being a catholic “choice” in those days) – or in the backyard – but not in “consecrated” ground.

More bad news followed: Joseph had no chance to go to “Heaven” – he had to go to “Limbo”. Not the dance – but the low rent housing projects halfway to Heaven where you didn’t get a golden trumpet, you got a plastic kazoo.

My Mom was crushed. She prayed and prayed – but still believed. Then came Vatican II in the early ’60’s and they ABOLISHED LIMBO! Say what? No Limbo? Did Joseph get an ‘E’ ticket (no-waiting-Disneyland) to heaven? Uhhhh….don’t know. Not quite clear. My Mother lived with that the rest of her life – and STILL believed in a game where they change the rules when your money is already on the table.

What’s that you say? Don’t I believe in the Pope, the Cardinals, the Robins, and the Pigeons? I sure DO! Just as much as I believe in Jimmy Swaggart, Jim Baker, Ernest Angely, and the late, Dr. Gene Scott.

Bless Me Father For I Have Sneezed

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

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Bless me Father for I have sinned. Uh, maybe we’d better start on the small ones first. I’ve had some bad thoughts since my last confession. I’d kinda like to go in reverse, chronological order here – is that OK, Father? Thanks.

I got on the elevator this morning with a big basket of laundry and the bottle of detergent teetering on top. I hate doing laundry so I’m not in a real great mood anyway. The laundry and I are taking an elevator ride down to the ‘machines ‘o wash’ when we stop at one of the nether floors and this doofy guy gets in.

He looks at me, then down at my laundry and soap, then back at me and says, “Gonna do laundry?”

Now Father, I know ‘God works in mysterious ways’ – why he would put GOAT BRAINS in anyone’s head is beyond me. And right away some wise-ass answers popped into my head. I was tempted (and may I have the confession transcript underline the word ‘tempted’ here? Thanks, Father.) I was tempted to say,

“Nah, the dirty shirts and shorts were getting bored in the closet so I thought I’d take them for a walk in the park.” Or,

“Noooo. It’s my birthday and my dirty clothes are bringing me down to the lounge for cake and soda.”

But I fought it, Father! I think that should be noted here. What I did was, I tried to copy the nitwit’s dumb smile, nodded my head, and then said, “Heh, heh. Yup – laundry.” He nodded back in profound understanding.

So Father, I know mean, sarcastic thoughts are a sin – a venal sin, I might add. But since I fought them back and rolled around on this guy’s level, I think we could drop it down to a ‘Venal – 3rd-Degree ‘ – is that OK, Father? Maybe even ‘Venal -4th’ with an extra ‘Hail Mary’ on top…. OK, Father?…… Father?”

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Bless Me Father For I Have Sneezed

Friday, July 11th, 2008

A RECYCLED PRESENTATION – 1st Posted on February 2, 2008

Bless me Father for I have sinned. Uh, maybe we’d better start on the small ones first. I’ve had some bad thoughts since my last confession. I’d kinda like to go in reverse, chronological order here – is that OK, Father? Thanks.

I got on the elevator this morning with a big basket of laundry and the bottle of detergent teetering on top. I hate doing laundry so I’m not in a real great mood anyway. The laundry and I are taking an elevator ride down to the ‘machines ‘o wash’ when we stop at one of the nether floors and this doofy guy gets in.

He looks at me, then down at my laundry and soap, then back at me and says, “Gonna do laundry?”

Now Father, I know ‘God works in mysterious ways’ – why he would put GOAT BRAINS in anyone’s head is beyond me. And right away some wise-ass answers popped into my head. I was tempted (and may I have the confession transcript underline the word ‘tempted’ here? Thanks, Father.) I was tempted to say,

“Nah, the dirty shirts and shorts were getting bored in the closet so I thought I’d take them for a walk in the park.” Or,

“Noooo. It’s my birthday and my dirty clothes are bringing me down to the lounge for cake and soda.”

But I fought it, Father! I think that should be noted here. What I did was, I tried to copy the nitwit’s dumb smile, nodded my head, and then said, “Heh, heh. Yup – laundry.” He nodded back in profound understanding.

So Father, I know mean, sarcastic thoughts are a sin – a venal sin, I might add. But since I fought them back and rolled around on this guy’s level, I think we could drop it down to a ‘Venal – 3rd-Degree ’ – is that OK, Father? Maybe even ‘Venal -4th’ with an extra ‘Hail Mary’ on top…. OK, Father?…… Father?”

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The Power of Papal Infallibility

Friday, April 18th, 2008

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I grew up in a hick town in the ‘50’s. Until Junior High, we Catholic kids got Religious Instruction for 40-minutes every Thursday afternoon. Our teachers were nuns who came from city parochial schools and they never had a good time of it.

It was easy to figure out why. Parochial kids spent every school day dominated by nuns and priests. They cowered at the sight of knuckle-cracking rulers and smart-ass comments might result in a visit to the dentist. We town kids never dreamed of giving that kind of respect to teachers – especially ones who couldn’t call our parents.

One Thursday afternoon, when I was in the sixth grade, the new nun was reading about us being soldiers for Christ or some such crap and I raised my hand.

“Yes?” she said.

“Sister, I was reading about Papal Infallibility,” (she looked at me suspiciously through her wire frame glasses) “and I was wondering what we Catholics would do if the Pope said 2 + 2 was 5 ?” Titters and whispers in the classroom. In Catholic theology, papal infallibility means the Pope cannot possibility be in error in anything regarding our faith. (I pretended I forgot that last part.)

Sister Brutus (or whatever her name was) looked like she was socked in the stomach. After a moment or two she hissed, “The Pope would NEVER say that.”

“Well,” I said all innocent-like, “what if he did? Would we have to believe that?” And then John Burnmeyer, a REAL troublemaker, chimed in, “And what if the Pope went crazy and said ‘people could fly’ – what about that?” Of course the room burst into chaos and the holy lady seemed to go into shock. And then a strange thing happened.

The nun began to cry. She just stood there and cried.

We were stunned! No one said a word or made a sound.

I guess I felt guilty for starting the rebellion so I quickly said, “We’re sorry, Sister. Please go on with the reading.” Murmurs of, “Yeh, let’s go on,” and “C’mon Sister.” She sat down and continued the lesson. We never saw her again.

The next Thursday, this huge priest walked into class and said, in a very loud voice, “My name is Father Wright – and I’m ALWAYS right. That’s why I hit first and ask questions later!”

It was probably paranoia – but I got the distinct feeling he was glaring at me.

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