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The "Rights of Englishmen" Series

This is a list of the posts from my "Rights of Englishmen" series, as well as some others: - The Rights of Englishmen Part 1:...

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Agreeing with VD: Modern Writing Sucks

I always felt like I was drowning in a lake of bullshit when I was forced to read modern "literature" at the university. One of my degrees was English Literature, so I had to read a lot of it.

The classics always offered clarity, while the new stuff about fags or failed sexual encounters always seemed self-serving to the writer. Why lit professors or others of that brand keep tagging themselves to that pointless charade will always bewilder me. It's one of the most flaccid things to take an interest in, and their literature preference can probably serve as a beacon warning others of their sodomitical lifestyle.

From today's Vox Day post, Modern Literature Is Bad Writing:
Speaking of bad writing, this 2001 Atlantic essay on the form and purpose of modern literature is magnificent. The author, BR Myers, rightly crucifies several doyennes of modern literature, including one, Cormac McCarthy, whose popular appeal I have never understood in the slightest(...):
"While inside the vaulting of the ribs between his knees the darkly meated heart pumped of who's will and the blood pulsed and the bowels shifted in their massive blue convolutions of who's will and the stout thighbones and knee and cannon and the tendons like flaxen hawsers that drew and flexed and drew and flexed at their articulations of who's will all sheathed and muffled in the flesh and the hooves that stove wells in the morning groundmist and the head turning side to side and the great slavering keyboard of his teeth and the hot globes of his eyes where the world burned.
(All the Pretty Horses, 1992)
"This may get Hass's darkly meated heart pumping, but it's really just bad poetry formatted to exploit the lenient standards of modern prose. The obscurity of who's will, which has an unfortunate Dr. Seussian ring to it, is meant to bully readers into thinking that the author's mind operates on a plane higher than their own—a plane where it isn't ridiculous to eulogize the shifts in a horse's bowels."
I know a copywriter. He was basically my mentor through college. He writes (and edits) damn well. He wrote a book about the rodeo lifestyle not too long ago, and I recommend it to y'all heartily. Any male with a working set of testicles who likes to read should check this one out.
It's called Ride On, by Michael Hearing

https://www.amazon.com/Ride-On-A-Rodeo-Novel-ebook/dp/B019VO8246

You should probably have some classic country playing in the background while you read it. (Waylon, Nelson, Hank Jr., etc.)

I suppose I could always push this book that some have attributed to me.

Monday, July 24, 2017

Two Fathers: A Rolling Stone and An Abuser

In the last three years, I have read two articles about each  of the latest two popes being described as a literal father figure in a nuclear family.  

The perspective differs according to the different dates they were written.  The first article is a little more sedate and pleading, as it was written after the first two years of Pope Francis' pontificate.  But the second article is readily more cutting, gritty, and unforgiving, as it was written recently, four years after Pope Francis was elected.  

The Abuser

The blog article that I actually featured here in January 2015 described how Pope Francis was an abusive father.  It is called: A Verbally and Metally Abusive Father.  This vision of a father is one of a man who seems self-absorbed, disconnected, and indifferent to the sufferings of the family.  If the children are having a problem, and they go to this father, he yells at them abusively:
"Imagine a father who lives in the picturesque suburbs. He has a good job, a loving wife, and several beautiful children of various ages. Many people look up to this man as an exemplary model within the community. Most say he is on his way to sainthood.
"As an outsider, this is only a part of the full picture. Now imagine if this same father spends more time playing with the other children in the neighborhood than he does his own children.When his children ask why their father would rather play with the other children and not his own, he in turn starts teasing them, making fun of them, and insisting that they are being whiny brats, instead of getting a loving answer in regards to why he is neglecting their emotional health.
"Additionally, his children are victim to several bullies in the neighborhood, tormentors who are relentless and look for any flaw in these children in order to persecute them. The father’s words and actions give these bullies ammunition to use against his children. Then the aggressors pounce upon the children and use the father’s own words against them.
"When some of the children get rightfully upset and complain about their father supporting the bullies more than themselves, their siblings yell at them and force their ideas into submission. “You can’t criticize Dad! He’s our father! You have to be obedient and submissive to his will, after all, he knows better than you do.” With this, the family has become more divided than before. Not only is the father allowing the world to abuse his children the same way he does, but some of the children viciously defend his abusive actions."

The Rolling Stone

There is a second article that came out recently that a lot of us are better acquainted with.  This is the article written by Ann Barnhardt: Letter From An Absentee Father To His Children.  It is very cutting, and sadly, it seems as something a lot of us are able to relate to.

Unlike the first article I mentioned, this one actually discusses the fatherhood of Pope Benedict XVI, who a lot of us originally thought was going to be a good pope.  In this description, we envision a father who decided to abandon the family to "go do his own thing."  This is a father who places emphasis on "finding himself" at the expense of his family's welfare.  And in his place comes a foster father who is very abusive and destructive.
Dear Children,
It has been over four years since I abandoned you and declared myself your “father emeritus”, but I wanted to write this letter to you in the hopes that it would console you.  As I said when I was walking out the door, I have not ceased to be your father, I have just chosen to only be your father in the passive, contemplative, inactive, absentee sense. After all, who is to say how many “fathers” a child can have?  What’s important is not who is or is not your father, but rather what fatherhood MEANS.  Fatherhood for me means withdrawing from the active duties of fatherhood while maintaining the spiritual aspect, and in doing this, stepping aside and making way for another man to become your “active father”.  In doing this, I have expanded fatherhood, thus permanently transforming fatherhood into a collegial, synodal paradigm. At least, that is what I tell myself.
I want you to know that I am fully aware that since I abandoned Your Mother and all of you, that a raging psychopath calling himself your “active father”  has moved into your house and is now raping and beating Your Mother before your eyes on a daily basis. I am also aware that he is beating you, emotionally abusing you, poisoning you, and is exposing you to his cabal of friends, almost all of whom are sodomites/boy rapists.
I want you to know that I am aware of this, and assure you of my closeness to you in prayer.  I hope this consoles you.
Further, I want you to know that things are going to get much, much worse.  Don’t ask me how I know this.  Let’s just say that when I was still your Active Father, I … was made privy to certain… secrets.
The psychopath and his sodomite/boy raping friends are going to rape and beat Your Mother so badly that it will literally require a supernatural miracle to save her life.  She will not die, but she will be raped and beaten unto death.  All of this will be done before your very eyes.  In fact, the psychopath and his sodomite gang will luxuriate in the fact that you, the children, will see this happen.
As for you, my dear, dear children, many of you will not survive this.  You will be beaten, berated, poisoned and some of you will also be raped.  For many of you, this abuse and terror will be so intense that you will abandon Your Mother and commit de facto suicide.  Others of you will turn into exactly the same kind of psychopathic monsters as your “active father” and his gang.  The only promise I can make to you is that at least ONE of you will survive.  It is possible that ALL BUT ONE of you, my children, will be lost.
But take heart!  I am aware of what is happening to you, and I am close to you in prayer.
Since this second article was written a full four years after the Church welcomed Pope Francis, we have the full benefit of hindsight.  There is no longer room for giving him the benefit of the doubt.  We are fully aware of what kind of man Pope Francis is.  But we are also fully aware of what kind of man Pope Benedict XVI is.  The latter is a quitter who fled for fear of the wolves, leaving us all to be eaten alive.

I could wholly connect and relate to each of these articles.  I expect them survive into the future and be read as historical literature by future generations, in order to better help our descendants understand what, exactly, we went through at this time.

A quick note for the unsavvy: I did not include all of the articles.  You can read them in their completed form by clicking on their hyperlinked titles.      
 

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Scandalous Victorian Horror Is Incomparable To FrancisChurch



"Just my soul?  Seems like a good idea!"
I wonder if perhaps it seems excessive to a lot of Catholics to keep harping on this horrific scandal of a drug-fueled priest orgy in the Vatican.  But...uh...this was your pope's buddies.  And honestly, Pope Francis and Friends™ have royally screwed over the Church from now until the Chastisement.  Before, in 2001, there was the scandal of priest pedophilia.  That was pretty damned bad.  But a fag train of men snorting cocaine off of each other's backs--right over there in the Vatican itself, and someone this close to the pope, no less--well, I simply cannot see how the Church's reputation will ever recover.

Matthew Taylor
Successful writer, age 20
The entire scandal sort of brought me back to an old Victorian horror novel I read in college.  This book was called The Monk, by Matthew Lewis.  I sort of doubt my readership is going to run out and buy this novel.  It was written in 1796, and it's been lumped in with Vathek, The Castle of Otranto, Frankenstein, and Dracula.

The very existence of a book like The Monk reminds me of a line from the prophecy of The Virgin at La Salette, where she says:
Evil books will be abundant on earth and the spirits of darkness will spread everywhere a universal slackening of all that concerns the service of God.
I cannot help but wonder if The Monk would be considered such an "evil book." It has always seemed to me to be written with the intention of delighting the reader with the scandalous ruination of a Catholic in a religious station.  The pleasures and schadenfreude that this work offered weren't exactly wholesome for the time it was written.  The Monk was condemned by Samuel Taylor Coleridge as being blasphemous and obscene, but Lewis was praised by the Marquis de Sade.

It goes without saying that this sultry and sensational work was an immediate best seller.  Lewis was only 20 years old.
 
Hear me out, and let me tell you this story.

 

Summary of Matthew Lewis' The Monk 
The story takes place in Spain, which at that time was a land of heated, romantic, unbridled passion.  There, in Madrid, the people have unquenched desire.  They clamor all over one another, there at the Church of the Capuchins.  They are a fomented, overzealous mob.  
Do not encourage the idea that the crowd was assembled either from motives of piety or thirst of information.  But very few were influenced by those reasons; and in a city where superstition reigns with such despotic sway as in Madrid, to seek for true devotion would be a fruitless attempt.  
One cannot help but wonder if Lewis is painting his target audience here.  
After some waiting, the man of the hour arrives.  The monk himself, "The Man of Holiness," Ambrosio, Abbot of the Capuchins, steps out to give his sermon.  And his sermon is a demonstration of his ability to spell-bound the crowd.  And, for that matter, the crowd is not a devout collection of the faithful.  The entire episode is a show.

Now, there are a few fresh victims characters I should introduce at this point.  There is the strapping young Lorenzo and the beautiful Antonia who meet during Ambrosio's sermon.  There is a second couple named Raymond and Agnes (Lorenzo's sister)--and real quick, these two get separated, but are reunited at the end; Agnes, who was pregnant, was cruelly kept in a convent by a prioress at the bottom of a secret staircase in a crypt.  

A couple more characters I should mention include Elvira, Antonia's mother.  And then there's Matilda, a mysterious woman who comes to Ambrosio (the monk) because she's infatuated with him.  Oh, and even the ghostly Wandering Jew makes a cameo appearance.  I'll never forget that scene.  (Let me know in the comments if you want me to provide you with that scene.) 

Amid all of the scandal, demons, and ghosts, the story goes like this.  

Ambrosio seems like a pious monk to the public.  But then we get a scene of him where is admiring a painting of the Virgin in a highly inappropriate sexual manner:  
"Oh!  If such a creature existed, and existed but for me!  Were I permitted to twine round my fingers those golden ringlets, and press with my lips the treasures of that snowy bosom!"
This is the interior mind of this "man of God."  He is not holy, but compromised.  

When he is eventually approached by Matilda, who seems to be a witch, her charm overcomes Ambrosio.  This woman appears obsessed with him.  As a matter of fact, at a point in the story, Matilda admits that she was the object of study in that portrait of the Virgin he admired:
"Yes, Ambrosio; In Matilda de Villanegas you see the original of your beloved Madonna.  Soon after I conceived my unfortunate passion, I formed the project of conveying to you my picture...I heard you daily extol the praises of my portrait."
As expected, the monk breaks his vows and has sex with Matilda, who seems somehow more aloof to the natural order of the universe than Ambrosio realizes.  

Ambrosio then becomes overcome with lust for Antonia--the innocent young girl I mentioned in the beginning.  He keeps visiting her family's house.  He deceives the family and says he's there to counsel Antonia's ailing mother, Elvira.  But Elvira, seeing through the pretense, tells the monk to leave before he harms the girl.  

"This deal seems legit!"
Matilda, at this point, helps Ambrosio by summoning a demon for him.  The demon gives the monk a magic myrtle branch that unlocks the doors of Antonia's house.  When Ambrosio the monk goes into the girl's house one night, her mother catches Ambrosio.  So...the monk kills her mother and runs off.  
  
Later, when Antonia is stricken mad with grief because she thought she saw her mother's ghost, Ambrosio the monk rushed "to her rescue" to take advantage of her.  He is advised by his lover Matilda to give the girl a drink that makes her sleep.  The monk then takes Antonia down to a dark crypt, rapes her, and then stabs her to death before she can escape.  

Ambrosio and Matilda are turned over to the Inquisition, as they are at this point known for rape, murder, and sorcery.  But then, Matilda convinces Ambrosio to sign his soul over in blood to the devil in order to avoid the execution.  

At that point, a devil appears to Ambrosio and helps him escape:
"'I have triumphed!  You are mine past reprieve, and I fulfill my promise.'  While he spoke, the door unclosed.  Instantly the demon grasped one of Ambrosio's arms, spread his broad pinions, and sprang with him into the air.  The roof opened as they soared upwards, and closed again when they had quitted the dungeon."
"Goodness, what a surprise!  I
totally didn't expect this to happen!"
The fiend reveals that that Matilda was also a demon all along, that Antonia was actually his sister, and that Elvira was his mother.  Ambrosio is then carried upward, dropped onto a sharp rocky precipice, from which the monk tumbles down to a river bank, and while still barely alive, his blood is being drunken by swarms of insects, and his body is ripped apart by the crooked beaks of wild mountain eagles.




The Monk Ambrosio Compared To Today's FrancisChurch Priests
I can remember the awkward confusion I felt as I witnessed my professor get a perverse thrill from teaching us about this novel.  It was downright naughty for its time, and certainly, it paints the Catholic Church in a bad light.    

So, yes it is a very horrible thing when a monk involves himself with sorcery, breaks his vows of chastity with a woman, rapes his sister, and kills his mother.  That's pretty bad.  BUT IT IS NOTHING COMPARED TO A COCAINE-FUELED GAY ORGY IN THE VATICAN THAT'S HOSTED BY A HIGH-RANKING VATICAN MONSIGNOR.    

I do not think that even the writer Matthew Lewis could have conceived of the kind of evil that now takes place in the center of what was once Christendom.  In The Monk, Ambrosio is led by his passions from one trainwreck into another.  His actions are not thought out.  They are hasty.  They are rash.  He gives into temptation, but he's no warlock.  He's a fool who got played by the Devil.  

For those not in the know, this homo-erotic
picture is actually a mural in a church, commissioned by
Archbishop Paglia.  That's him in the picture, with the hat.
A Vatican apartment filled with a drug-induced naked sausage party is another thing altogether.  It requires premeditation, arrangements, coordination, and a thought-out schedule.  "Let's all get together on this night in this place, purchase these drugs, have this kind of sex from this time to this time.  Be sure to contact this guy, this guy, and that guy, and make sure they tell so and so."  This is nothing like what Ambrosio did.  

At least Ambrosio the monk was attracted to women.  But this orgy...this vile thing that happened this year...this is planned evil.  These men have engaged themselves in a long-term commitment to wickedness.  This kind of diabolical depravity is a systemic groupthink with those priests, and their lives are attached to a program of sorts that enables this kind of crime.  

Ambrosio was merely a lustful heterosexual idiot bumping into one demon after another.  At the end of his life, cornered by the demon, he actually gave a thought to repentance shortly before the devil destroyed his hope:
   "On hearing this sentence, dreadful were the feelings of the devoted wretch!  He sank upon his knees, and raised his hands towards Heaven.  The fiend read his intention and prevented it--
   "'What?' he cried, darting at him a look of fury: 'Dare you still implore the Eternal's mercy?  Would you feign penitence, and again act an hypocrite's part?  Villain, resign your hopes of pardon.  Thus I secure my prey!'"
The monk Ambrosio had a touch of remorse.  Although out of self-preservation, he at least gave Heaven a glance with regret, and desired a last chance to correct his soul.  

Msgr. Capozzi
But the sodomite club in the Vatican is not populated by monks.  It consisted of priests, which is a much higher office and greater responsibility than a monk.  In fact, Monsignor Luigi Capozzi--the drug-running host of these recurrent orgies--was set to become a bishop, courtesy of his boss, Cardinal Francesco Coccopalmerio, who has often said that Catholic leaders should focus on the "positive elements" of faggotry, and emphasize the "positive realities" of such homosexual relationships brief encounters.

Cardinal Cocco
Sodomites typically have no remorse.  They're usually narcissists.  And narcissists are unlikely to care about anything external to their own egos and pleasures.  Narcissists like that scoff at religion, and they are happy to try to change the Faith if they can--as we have seen with Cardinal Cocco.  Groups like the Coco Club don't bump into one accidental fling after another as the monk Ambrosio did.  Instead, they flaunt their gay pride, and they look at traditional morality as a societal and temporary inconvenience.  

If these men remain unrepentant, then their afterlife tortures will resemble a fate far worse than Ambrosio's death:

As He said this, darting his talons into the Monk's shaven crown, He sprang with him from the rock. The Caves and mountains rang with Ambrosio's shrieks. The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching a dreadful height, He released the sufferer. Headlong fell the Monk through the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and He rolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He rested on the river's banks. Life still existed in his miserable frame: He attempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbs refused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot where He had first fallen. The Sun now rose above the horizon; Its scorching beams darted full upon the head of the expiring Sinner. Myriads of insects were called forth by the warmth; They drank the blood which trickled from Ambrosio's wounds; He had no power to drive them from him, and they fastened upon his sores, darted their stings into his body, covered him with their multitudes, and inflicted on him tortures the most exquisite and insupportable. The Eagles of the rock tore his flesh piecemeal, and dug out his eyeballs with their crooked beaks. A burning thirst tormented him; He heard the river's murmur as it rolled beside him, but strove in vain to drag himself towards the sound. Blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing, venting his rage in blasphemy and curses, execrating his existence, yet dreading the arrival of death destined to yield him up to greater torments, six miserable days did the Villain languish. On the Seventh a violent storm arose: The winds in fury rent up rocks and forests: The sky was now black with clouds, now sheeted with fire: The rain fell in torrents; It swelled the stream; The waves overflowed their banks; They reached the spot where Ambrosio lay, and when they abated carried with them into the river the Corse of the despairing Monk.       

Bye.