Salve, Magisterium.
As the newest in the ranks of the HLS bloggers, please permit me to introduce myself. I am Priest to a Parish of One. Master of the Carp. I am the founder of a major, nationwide pizza chain (Hint: it rhymes with Kiss my Nut (sort of)) and it is my intention to liquidate my shares in this deliciously godless franchise-steeped business enterprise to bring the mainstream Church back to its true purpose. Its original goal. Its bright and shiny golden Catholic egg-baby.
Notre Dame football.
I belong to a secret enclave of true followers, known simply as The Enclave, who meet deep in the bowels of the earth, a field goal kick above hell. We wear special boots with extra thick soles just to convene because it’s so damned hot down there, but that’s okay because such pain does not approach a fraction of the discomfort our Lord the Baby Jesus feels every time Notre Dame loses a football game. Our Lord the Baby Jesus has had a very difficult year.
Each member of our secret, ancient organization wears a replica of the 1988 College National Championship Ring in the sacred hilt that is our navel to remind ourselves of Our Lord and Lady’s mighty suffering through the past two decades and the joy that should rightfully be ours.
I willfully digress.
The timing of this first missive is anything but coincidence. The Book of Rock’s prophecies in the Second Weissatude are coming to pass…
“Yea, and the fourth Golic shall crest
And Lord Tenuta shall sound his shining horn
The Turk will neuter the Alligator with his claws
And the Bush will be burnt at the feet of the Yahoos
And Yea, though it may not be the year
It may well be the year before the year
Or perhaps it will be the year
Although that would be unexpected…â€
The translation grows ever esoteric beyond that, but the timing seemed provident nonetheless.
Let us welcome a new punter into our fold.
God speed, little Floridian. God speed.
H’amen.
- Catholics vs. Lapsed Methodists - November 25, 2010
- The Pitts - October 8, 2010
- Boston Swallege - October 1, 2010
LOL! Good stuff Ehhh Father??
Father,
I hope in your next missive, you’ll discuss the labyrinth within the Enclave’s meeting place. That and all the stolen works of art from all of the world’s wars.
Welcome Father Bird. Fired up to have you on board.
WE have three birds on the CRONIN ? coat of arms?
I bought it in Ireland, in 1978, the coldest summer in 10 years. 3 Skellig gannets, are they ducks ? ¿ But they’re sea birds.
Not all are poets.. I’m not. St. Cronán is spelled Cronin on the west coast of Ireland ! ND may play there, in ie, in 2012?