We—the Catholic faithful of this island of Ireland—have at least four years to prepare for it. Thank God for this time; let us not waste it. Let us petition the archdiocese of Dublin to the end that the whacked-out, wild-eyed, Vat2-hugging, media-loving, greying boomer neo-litnik slimeballs shall not crawl out from under their respective rocks and be granted the liberty to hijack what should be a solemn and sacred occasion and turn it into the sort of impious parade of contrived, narcissistic, self-worshipping, perverted, pseudo-catholic, anti-liturgical, pop-arty nonsensical conciliar goof-ballery that we are horrified to discover was inflicted on the recent Eucharistic Congress in Quebec.
Go here and here if you want the gory details.
But if the conciliar church should go ahead with its own blasphemous programme—as it will, despite the anguished pleas of the faithful; Melancholicus finds it remarkable how the conciliar church blathers on and on about being a 'listening' church, seeking to 'collaborate' with the laity, but then turns around and savagely upbraids lay people for daring to criticize the non-Catholic nonsense that goes on routinely in their parishes and dioceses—faithful Catholics should boycott this impious event and should neither by their attendance give credibility to it, nor seem thereby to signal their approval of its juvenilia.
Pray God that the conciliar church may not hijack the Eucharistic Congress, an event which belongs to Christ and to the Catholic Church, not to drivelling heretics and secularizing fifth-columnists. Pray God also that it may please Him finally to restore to us the religion of our fathers, that the Church may be to us once more the spotless bride of the Lamb, and that He might remove from our midst the suppurating carbuncle that is the conciliar church, an institution that is nothing less than the ecclesiastical version of haemorrhoids, a hideous changeling smeared with excrement and unbeholdable offals, that, having slouched towards Bethlehem to be born, now usurps even the cradle of the Divine Infant Himself.
Melancholicus now thoroughly regrets that this sacrilege against Our Lord’s greatest gift to His Church will take place in Dublin.
What a contrast it shall be to 1932!
O horrible, O horrible, O most horrible!
I am lost for words.
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