The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Thursday, December 31, 2009

four graces

God help the young man who set himself on fire on the plane in order to try and kill his fellow passengers at Detroit on Christmas day.
It was a terrible thing to do to himself.
I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
God help him.
I can think of four graces received over the Christmas.
One was that the Jihadi who set himself on fire at Detroit didn't manage to kill anyone.
A second was when a plane in Kingston, Jamaica skidded off the runway and broke in two and no one was killed there either.
A third was when a woman knocked over the Pope in Saint Peter's basilica at midnight mass and didn't manage to do any damage. (French Cardinal Roger Ethegaray who got a broken leg in the scuffle might dispute my no damage scenario.)
I suppose a fourth grace was a personal one for me when I found I could pray for the young man who set himself on fire on the plane at Detroit.
Four graces.
Four gifts at Christmas

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

jihad knickerbocker glory

Today they said...

President Barack Obama: "This has been a failure in systems and communication."

James Healy: "No. This has been a failure in President Barack Obama and his Administration. Here is the news. The only reason the Nigerian Al Qaeda terrorist Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab was able to get onto a plane from Amsterdam to Detroit and from there launch an attack on the United States, is because President Obama has suspended the operation of the no fly list for members of Al Qaeda. He still keeps a list, mind. Dropping the list altogether would have been politically risky. Better to risk millions of lives than risk President Obama's reputation. No. What he did was suspend the operation of the list. So although the CIA, and the FBI, and the Brits still have a list of Al Qaeda agents who want to blow up passenger planes over America, they don't use the list any more to prevent actual Al Qaeda terrorists from flying. Hilarious, no! The suspension of the operation of the list secretly instituted by President Obama and his Homeland Security Chief Janet Napolitano means the terrorists are now allowed on the planes. The lists which are still compiled serve merely as cultural curiosities, a place where the overworked CIA men and their friends can read up on new and interesting Islamic names. And the sole reason that Nigerian Al Qaeda terrorist Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, after getting on the plane, was then able to ignite the explosive device strapped to his mickey, is because President Barack Obama and Homeland Security Chief Janet Napolitano have quietly stood down the air marshals who under President Bush would have been on the plane themselves and would have been in a position to send the Nigerian Al Qaeda terrorist Umar Farouk Abdulalmutallab home to Allah. So Al Qaeda terrorists are now being allowed to fly on passenger planes in the sure knowledge that President Barack Obama has repudiated all President Bush's initiatives against them. President Barack Obama repudiated these initiatives, sometime between the time he announced the closure of Guantanamo Bay, took the pressure off in Iraq, and dithered over deploying troops to Afghanistan. President Barack Obama's policies amount to a new experiment in constitutional government. To wit: Government by Michael Moore, of Michael Moore, for Michael Moore.
By the way, Mark Steyn has dubbed the Nigerian Al Qaeda terrorist Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab as the panty bomber while The Irish Times, The Daily Mail, CNN et al, are still delicately and inaccurately reporting that the bomb was attached to his leg. Great balls of fire, as we do say in the trade. Steyn suggests and I agree that we should stop referring to Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab as an alleged terrorist. There's nothing alleged. He did it. Adding the word alleged doesn't serve any purpose beyond an improper stymying of public awareness. Believe it or not, I heard one passenger on the flight referring to the Al Qaeda terrorist Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab as a suspect. This passenger had actually seen him with his balls on fire. A suspect! This is delusional liberalist thinking. The irony is screaming. Guilt in these circumstances is not determined by the courts. Guilt is determined when Al Qaeda terrorist Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab lights the blue touch paper on the bomb strapped to his gonad. To pretend any of this is alleged, is merely to allow Judge Liberal to stifle due public concern about the open and ongoing infiltration of Al Qaeda terrorists like Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab into our countries on missions of mass murder. To allow Defence Lawyers to suggest that a fair trial is made impossible if the Al Qaeda terrorist Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab is so blatent in his attempts to commit mass murder, that everyone knows he did it, is similarly to accord improper and destructive power to mafiosi style Defence Lawyers. It's time the Judges and the Defence Lawyers realised they have a duty to the truth. They work for us. Not vice versa."

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

in the heart land


The pen may be mightier than the sword but it can in no way match the speed and accuracy of a machine gun.

Sunday, December 27, 2009


provincial poets

this morning i read through the works of marty brown
traced the words and music he had drawn
and after wondered as to what degree
his musings held in the rank halls of poetry

i scorned the traipsing metres and the mind
which brought them to this world i became
a defiler in the temple of the muse
now in broken spirit i start again

let the works of brown shine thus
like the darkness glistening in homer's verse
no more high or low
than keats first pure clarion call
which whispered in the timbrels of its gleaming
even a savage has feeling
even the gods must fall

Saturday, December 26, 2009

winter frost

Patterns on the window of my car. Magic in the everyday.

christmas at the chateau

The perfect day.
Lovely sheen of frost over everything.
As far as I'm concerned that's a white Christmas.
Spent the morning following a robin around the garden trying to get a picture.
Rather pleased with the result.
Afternoon zipped into Naas for coffee at the Costa Cafe.
I was nearly there when I realised MC Hamster was still snuggling up my sleeve.
I decided to chance going into the cafe anyway.
Life is too short to worry about health regulations.
It seemed possible that if the staff saw Hammy, I would be thrown out.
They might think she was a rat.
Or just a hamster.
I was sitting ensconced in the corner with a ham and cheese panini and a caffe latte, when Hammy's head emerged from my sleeve.
She likes paninis.
And ham.
And cheese.
I pushed her head back in.
There followed an hour of pantomime with Hammy's head appearing out of various sleeves, and at my neck, and just for divilment from a hole in the jumper near my waist.
Occasionally I slipped her a piece of panini, or a piece of ham, or a piece of cheese, and she would retire to consume it, before reappearing moments later.
Between times my eyes scanned the cafe warily.
I could see an elderly lady sitting opposite me.
I had no wish to cause her a heart attack.
Three teenage boots girls were on my left.
They'd have definitely had great larks if they caught sight of the golden mouse.
And some little kiddies were perched on high stools at the windows.
Hammy would have been vintage entertainment for them too.
But I managed to keep her in check.
Drunk with success I marched up to the counter.
Hammy was immobile, resting on my spare tyre.
That is to say, resting on a comfortable fold in my belly.
I ordered another caffe latte and began to chat to the Hungarian waitress.
"Lovely weather for this time of..." I was saying.
At this point Hammy, the hamster who never bites, sank her teeth into my spare tyre.
I said: "Aiiieee... year, I always like it when it's not raining."
Miss Hungary eyed me strangely.
The rest of our transaction was processed in silence.
Back to the chateau.
Our neighbour Cathy Anne had dropped in with her daughter Katie to see the Mammy before Christmas.
I showed them the budgies.
The green budgie came out of the cage and conversed politely with everyone.
The blue budgie refused to budge.
Bluey still has a canniptian if anyone tries to handle her.
She doesn't mind being fed but after that she has no desire whatsoever for human contact.
My cousin Frances ducked in as night was falling.
She's the teacher who can kill a charging yob at fifty paces with a blow of her tongue.
"I loved what you wrote on your blog about Doctor Barn's Christmas present," quoth she.
A woman of taste and discernment is our Frances.
Just don't run at her.
Time for a quick spruce up of the Heelers bod.
Teeth brushed.
The confessional style!
Do you like it gentle reader?
And I'm lying about the shower and the shave.
Life is too short.
Then up to Kilcullen Church for midnight mass.
Midnight mass in my town is at 9pm.
Very Irish.
The noble Heelers is doing his holy Joe routine in a forward pew where everyone can see him.
The choir are tootling away infernally from an elevated gallery at the rear of the church.
Heelers turns to look at the scene.
I always do this.
I love looking at the choir.
The choir singers are rosy cheeked and cheerful.
They are like Dickens characters.
The faces of the congregation are like a living history of my town.
Every year I drink it all in.
This year is a little different.
The fantasy has been spoiled for me a little by a rumour that there is dissension in the ranks of singers.
Some of the choir singers are not so fond of other choir singers.
I in my innocence had believed a choir could not be prone to such divisions.
So I am looking at them tonight and thinking rather rumly:
"Wouldn't it be funny if they sang Abide With Me when they can barely abide each other!"
After mass I linger in the church to chat with some fans.
You know.
Saint Therese, Saint Peter, Saint Paul. Saint Gemma Galgani, Pope John Paul The Great, Saint Father Slavko.
The usual bunch.
Fans indeed.
They loved my humour column in the Leinster Leader but haven't bought it since I got fired.
Arf, arf.
I am the last to leave the church.
In the car park I find my Uncle Jim and Aunty Pat standing shivering beside their Jaguar XJ8.
The doors are frozen shut.
I unlock my car and start the engine.
Aunty Pat lets out a cry.
"Look," she says to her husband. "James's car is better than yours."
Uncle Jim does not appear even faintly amused.
I haven't seen such a glower since...
Well, not since Doctor Barn's BMW conked out when its engine flooded in a puddle in the heavy rain last November, and then the next night I was driving him home, and we hit deep water on the road at the Curragh, and I said "Sorry Barn we're already in it," and he said "The same thing is going to happen to yours as happened to mine," but my car just rolled through the water and came out the other side still running and ready for more.
Ah yes.
You can't beat the 1998 Nissan.
It's the little car that could.
Sure it's virtually a classic car at this stage.
Back to the present.
Wind and moon and stars above the carpark at Kilcullen church.
I waited to see if the relatives would be able get into their Jag. I offered to try breathing on the locks to warm them up. Uncle Jim, because he knows me, was of the opinion that if I breathed on his car, I might break it. Instead he heated his key with a lighter and inserted it in the lock. It worked.
Who would have thunk it.
No one was more surprised than me.
I thought he was going to melt the key and make the thing completely inoperable.
You should have seen the fascinated look on my face as I watched him do it.
Back at the Chateau de Healy, my Yogic sister Marie and her husband Edward were rustling up a fry.
Rashers, eggs and sausages.
Now this is what Christmas is all about.
As we munched, I brought up the subject of Medjugorje, the town in Bosnia where there have been claims of divine apparitions.
"You were there Marie," I said. "Did you see anything?"
Her husband fielded the question.
"She saw a vision," he chortled. "A voice from heaven told her: You must play lots of golf. Follow the little white ball. And if you get tired, start playing Bridge."
So folks it looks like the visions at Medjugorje are genuine after all.
It would explain at a lot.
Before they departed Marie slipped me fifty quid.
I was speechless.
A fry and fifty quid in the one night.
Her finest hour.
And I hadn't even gotten her a Christmas present.
I hurried down to my room, grabbed an unwanted present someone had given me, a book actually, and scribbled on the inside cover: "Happy Christmas Marie and Edward, and thank you for the fifty. Ho, ho, ho, James."
Bunged the book into a Newbridge Silverware bag.
Presented it to the Yogic sister at the front door.
It was a moving moment as she read the inscription.
What Christmas is all about really.

hero nuns from the planet zorg

1. When my Aunty Eileen was training as a nurse at Saint Vincent's hospital, one of the nuns was being hard on her. Finally my aunt confronted the nun. My aunt said: "Why are you doing this?" The nun replied: "Because as soon as I saw you I knew that some day you'd be running this unit. And you'll need to be tough." So it transpired.
2. An artist friend who was formerly a teacher in Newbridge told me that the nuns who ran a school there had an extraordinary commitment to the children in their care. "The sort of help they gave to families was unbelievable," said the teacher. "People have forgotten all this. The story is largely untold. The nuns knew all the background, all the circumstances. If a child was doing badly in school, the nuns often knew about some family problem and would endeavour to get the child help. They gave a level of care that doesn't exist now. I remember being at a parent teacher meeting when I worked at the school. One of the parents, a single mother but living with a new boyfriend, told me that her new boyfriend had flung the baby across the room the previous night. I told the nuns. The nuns moved heaven and earth to try and get Social Services to take the baby out of that situation. Then as now the Social Services moved very slowly. After six months the baby was taken into care. The baby had to take his chances for six months with the fellow who threw him across the room. Anyway, after a while the mother gave an assurance to Social Services that she had severed contact with this particular boyfriend. Social Services returned the baby to her. The last I heard was that she had married the boyfriend."
3. When Kilcullen Primary School became coeducational in 1979, a certain disparity in the educational levels of boys and girls in the town came into the public domain. Up to that time, the girls had been educated solely by nuns. They were almost all able read and write and do maths. The boys had been educated at a primary school with lay teachers. About thirty percent of us could barely write at all. Teachers had traditionally made a pragmatic attempt to educate all the boys but it seemed like a fait accompli that a significant number would be left behind. My brother Bernard was in the class taken over by Sister Lelia. This class was preparing to move into Post Primary Education. Sister Lelia was horrified to discover that around a third of the boys could not write properly. She junked the curriculum. That is to say she stopped everything, and took action to teach every boy in the class to do joined up writing. The result is that to this day, among young men of a certain age group in my town, some tough, some rich, some poor, some soft, some city boys, some farmers, all of em, all of them I say, have beautiful clear flowing hand writing. They are Sister Lelia's boys. She may have been as tough as old boots. But she didn't leave anyone behind.
4. Mother Angelica, an American nun, founded the international Catholic broadcaster Eternal Word Network Television, EWTN. She set it up in a garage in Atlanta. There is a story told that at one point while trying to raise funds, she approached some mafiosi for donations. A mafia man supposedly told her: "Sister, we're not the sort of people you would want to take money from." Mother Angelica replied: "I'll take your money and I'll pray for you." Mother Angelic is also famous for musing publically on national television: "I don't know how I became a nun. When I was a child, most of the nuns I knew were bitches."
5. Sister Brid MacKenna claims to have been healed of crippling arthritis in 1971 while praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament. (Communion bread which Catholics teach contains the real presence of Jesus.) She also claims to have received a gift enabling her to heal others at this time. She has spent the past four decades preaching the real presence of Jesus in communion. She claims that limitless healing is available to all in front of the blessed sacrament.

Friday, December 25, 2009

merry christmas

Robin in the garden on Christmas Eve.

on stopping by the naas costa cafe on a christmas evening

whose cafe this is i think i know
his corporate headquarters is in london though
he will not see me stopping here
to watch his cafe fill up with proles
my little hamster must think it queer
to stop without our chateau near
between the grocery and bookshop with the scruff male counter staff
the darkest evening of the year
she gives the spare tyre on my belly a nip
to remind me to leave our new acquaintance the hungarian waitress a tip
the only other sound's the shriek
i unleash at the sight of my own blood
this cafe is obviously built to last
but i have a biting hamster up my vest
and budgies to clean out before midnight mass
and budgies to clean out before midnight mass
(With apologies to Robert Frost. No really, I'm very sorry.)

Thursday, December 24, 2009

great moments in poignancy

Doctor Barn arrived at the chateau this afternoon.
With great care he arranged small heaps of presents under the tree in the hall.
He mumbled something along the lines of: "Not to be opened till Christmas day."
I watched him wryly.
I had the oddest feeling that as soon as he left the house any presents marked James would be ripped open immediately.
So it proved.
Spying my name on a package I ripped it open.
The brother had been gone a full thirty seconds.
I'd managed to resist that long.
A new record.
The package contained a bunch of objectionably violent Clint Eastwood videos.
I searched through the videos.
The Good The Bad And The Ugly.
A Fistful Of Dollars.
For A Few Dollars More.
Hang Em High.
That meant three objectionably violent films with a certain artistic merit, and one useless objectionably violent film with no merit at all.
I checked the interior of the video case.
Far more objectionable than anything the movies might contain themselves, was the fact that no secret wodge of cash had been placed in the case.
I checked again just to be sure.
But no.
Could the brother be turning his back on one of the great Christmas traditions?
I turned back towards the tree.
My features were dark.
Another package with my name on it called for attention.
Here we go.
I ripped it open.
A book by someone called Bill Bryson about someone called Shakespeare.
Never heard of either of em.
I thumbed through the pages.
Several times.
On the final time, my thumbing was a tad frantic.
I do believe I cried: "No, no, no."
No cash fell forth.
Suffering sagotash.
This is shaping up to be a bad Christmas.
But lo!
There's a third package with my name on it.
A large one.
I rip off the wrapping.
It's a coat.
I check the sleeves and interior.
No money has been placed there.
Woe is me.
Worst Christmas ever if there's no moulah from Daktari.
Somewhat grudgingly, I try on the coat for size.
Blooming coats.
Who needs em.
Paddy Pup busies himself ripping the already ripped wrapping paper to shreds.
The ghost of Mobies Past appears beside the tree singing:
"Oooh Lordy, troubles with God,
Oooh Lordy, troubles with God,
Don't nobody know my troubles with God.
Don't nobody know my troubles with God."
It was quite poignant.
But I prefer the version with the Johnston Press in it.
I put my hands in the coat pockets.
Oh Lordy.
It's a Christmas miracle.
My fingers feel a snug nest of dollar bills.
Hurrah for Doctor Barn.
Hurrah, I say.
Christmas is saved.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

christmas at the chateau de healy


seasonal tweetings

Woken at midday by budgies squawking something like: "Take this bloody blanket off our cage."
Frost on the fields.
Cleaning Lady ducked in the door and presented the Young Squire with socks.
The Young Squire did his best to be gracious.
Ah yes.
What do you get the man who has nothing?
Socks apparently.
Sean Landers dropped in for a visit. He's on a trip home from Taiwan where he teaches.
He joined the Mammy and me for tea in the kitchen.
He said: "I can't believe how upset the Irish get about a little flooding. We had two earthquakes in Taiwan the night before I left. People die in floods over there. The weather can be really extreme. Here everyone reacts to the least thing as if it's never happened before. For crying out loud, we've had snow before. Snow isn't any colder now than it ever was."
I replied: "They're all watching idiot climate change disaster movies and they believe them."
Popped into Newbridge.
Yelena the Russian waitress in the Cafe Des Beaux Parvenus at Newbridge Silverware presented me with a wrapped package.
I checked under the wrapper to make sure it wasn't socks.
The noble Heelers licked his cherubic lips.
"Those are for my Lily," she advised warningly.
This is her name for the Mammy.
Headed for the town of Naas for coffee with the Brezzer in the Costa.
She may be singing at midnight mass in Kilcullen on Christmas eve.
I hope she is.
Found a book by Saint Thomas Akempis while browsing.
A passage caught my eye.
It went: "Why do you worry so much about what people think of you? It is because you do not worry enough about what God thinks of you."
This hit most nearly upon my heart.
Posted off some Xmas greetings.
Actually postcards made from photos I took at the Mammy's 80th birthday.
Surrealistic, moi?
Well they make quirky greeting cards.
They've got buckets of quirk.
Quick trip to Dublin.
Met Giovanna for coffee in the Cafe Insomnia near Trinity College.
She gave me socks.
Savile Row socks.
I never knew Savile Row produced socks.
I've heard of Savile Row suits alright.
But these were definitely socks.
Paddy Pup is going to have a field day.
These are a good deal classier than the socks he normally masticates.
I had no Christmas present for Giovanna.
Serve her right for giving me socks.
Rendezvous at evening with Jinwoo from Korea.
She gave me a diary.
Thank heaven.
Anything but socks.
Back home to give the hamster cage a pre Christmas cleaning.
Felt demotivated and couldn't force myself to do it.
Watched a Seinfeld instead.
"Don't worry Hammy," I told her, "I'll clean your cage tomorrow."
MC Hamster's whiskers twitched reproachfully.
"I'll believe it when I see it," she muttered.
Walked Paddington through the midnight air.
Chicken and chips from the Chinese.
Sat in the hall in the wee small hours contemplating our Christmas tree.
An odd peace touched my heart.
May it touch yours also bold traveller of the internet.
Whoever you are.

the monica leech laugh in

There's a Jesuit writing for the Leinster Leader.
I kid you not.
He writes about spiritual matters.
The Jesuits have been famous through five centuries for their concern about social issues.
I find it hard to understand how any Jesuit could work for a newspaper owned by the Johnston Press.
Perhaps I'll drop him a line.


Ayatollah Bill Montazeri kicked the bucket in Iran this week. He was 87. Having first helped legendary Islamist psycho Ayatollah Khomeini seize power thirty years ago, he is said to have become disillusioned at the sheer level of mayhem that went with Khomeini's rule. Still, he never quite could bring himself to admit that he and Khomeini had done anything wrong by plunging Iran into its present nightmares. Montazeri eventually found himself marginalised for refusing to endorse the ongoing execution of dissenters under the Islamist dictatorship he had helped invent and impose. I suppose anyone who has faced a similar moral dilemma, and has behaved better, may judge him. The CNN brigade think he was the nearest thing the enslaved Iranian nation had to a focus for its desire to rejoin the civilised world. Maybe. To me it just looks like the Iranian people are being stampeded between varying sets of Islamist psychos. Roll up, roll up. Choose your Ayatollah folks. Not much of a choice. The wheel is rigged and it's the only game in town. Short of divine interevention there will be war in and from Iran shortly. I just hope American President Michael Moore knows who he's appeasing. And I hope some of us survive this Islamic apocalypse.

pardon me archbishop but your brother is in my soup

Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has acquiesced in the media manufacture of wrong doing against some of his Bishops.
I have been curious about Archbishop Diarmuid Martin's willingness to admit contrived retrospective wrong doing on the part of men who had done no wrong.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin is a brother of former Irish Times political editor Seamus Martin.
Seamus Martin's coverage of international politics at the Irish Times was marked by a blatent pro Soviet, Communist, anti Americanism.
I believe Seamus Martin was part of a cabal of journalists and editors at the Irish Times who were being directly run by the KGB Soviet secret service as agents.
I have a question for Archbishop Diarmuid Martin.
When the Communist Party of the Soviet Union was attempting to infiltrate the Catholic Church in Lithuania, Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Austria, Germany, Italy, France, Spain, and England, did that same Communist Party of the Soviet Union ever try to infiltrate the Irish Catholic Church?
Are you a Marxist like your brother Seamus?
Were you at any time part of a Soviet conspiracy to undermine Christianity in Ireland?

Monday, December 21, 2009

what hath god wrought


moment aria

the heat descends on the city
the city towers and teems
with a million heartless miracles
that the vain say last forever
a man and a woman on a bridge
kiss once the sky unfurls
oh the beauty of that kiss
and the briefness
thus passes the glory of the world


Coffee with the Doctor.
He says: "Do you think the McCanns did it?"
I shake my head.
"I never thought they did it," I tell him. "Not even for a moment."
He knits his brow.
"Heelers," he says. "You are so predictable. You only think they didn't do it, because they're Catholic."
I lean forward.
"I don't consider the McCanns to be Catholic," I say. "I'm not their judge. But that's not how I see them. They had children through in-vitro fertilisation. That would make them non Catholic as far as I'm concerned. My reason for thinking them innocent relates to something else. I took one look at them. I listened to what they said. My every instinct proclaimed that they were innocent and that their daughter had been abducted. If I knew anything about anything, I knew that. I took one look at the investigating police officer, and I was seriously disquieted. I suspected instantly that he was a bad man. Then there was the man living in the area with the dungeon in his house, who tried to attach himself to the media groups reporting from the scene. And then there was another paedophile who was found dead in the woods in Switzerland a few weeks later who had also been present in the area around that time. That part of Portugal was Paedophile Central the day Madeline was taken. I feel in my heart her parents have been the subject of a most evil attempt to incriminate them. There you go. It's not the most scientific method. Or is it?"
The doctor nodded slowly.
"They left their kids unsupervised Jim," he said.
There was a tear in my eye.
"Jesus and Mary were three days out of Jerusalem before they noticed Jesus was missing," I said softly.

the results of the heelers enquiry into apparitions of the virgin mary at medjugorje

Since 1981, six individuals have been claiming to receive visions of the mother of God at Medjugorje, a Croatian town in Bosnia.

Reasons to give credance to the visions:

1. The testimony of Heather Parsons, a former magazine editor in Ireland. She states explicitly that she saw the risen Lord in the sun at Medjugorje.

2. The testimony of Randall Sullivan, a writer working for Rolling Stone magazine. He claims also to have experienced certain supernatural phenomena at Medjugorje.

3. I am unable to conclude at the moment that the visionaries are lying.

4. The writings of Sister Emmanuel on Medjugorje have a genuine quality.

5. Vicka's physical appearance. I find her appearance suggestive of one who has been touched by the light. I have had a similar feeling looking at Mirjana.

6. There are significant reports of healings taking place at Medjugorje.

7. The testimony of my Uncle Jim Berney who says he has seen supernatural phenomena at Medjugorje.

8. The testimony of Doctor Marco Margnelli who claims he went to Medjugorje as an atheist in the 1980's. He says that the factor which made the largest impression on him, was the gathering of birds in trees at dusk in the town square. At the moment the supposed visions began, the birds would fall silent. Doctor Margnelli, like Heather Parsons, has been received into the Catholic church.

9. The message of the visions seems generally positive.

10. Pray, pray, pray.


Reasons to doubt the claims of visions at Medjugorje:

There have been some inconsistencies in statements by the visionaries. If the visions are false, we must ask ourselves how the whole charade was constructed and maintained. Remember this would then be a charade that enables drug addicts to give up their addiction overnight. The only postulation I can come up with for a conspiracy at Medjugorje is the following...
I have been unwilling to conclude that the children themselves are lying. There have been psychological tests carried out on them, and the children have been observed closely for 28 years right up to and including their years of adulthood. They do not act like liars. If the visions are faked, I believe someone or some group, has manipulated the children. If the visions are faked, a way has been found to fake them, in such a manner that the visionaries themselves believe they are having visions. Somebody must have hypnotised the children (as they were in 1981) into accepting that they would see the Virgin Mary in visions at a particular time each evening. This would have been done through some form of autosuggestion, the implanting of mental triggers in their minds. The content of the visions could have been programmed into them in a similar way. Disparities between the children's accounts of their visions might then be explained by the action of their own disparate imaginations in providing subjective and individualistic outcomes for their imagined vision experiences. The only candidates for the hypnotising of these six children, would be found among local clergy, who are members of the Franciscan order. One of these Franciscans, Tomas Vlasic, has been regarded by critics as the chink in Medjugorje's armour. I know nothing ill of Tomas Vlasic. If I did, I would state it. Nor can I exonerate him. He has recently relinquished his priesthood. In his youth he fathered a child with a nun. Neither of these facts discredit him in my view. I would honour him and the nun for bringing the child to the world. Erasmus was born of such a union and raised by nuns. The child will save the world every time. But Tomas Vlasic remains the number one suspect for those who doubt the visions are genuine. A local Bishop has asserted that Vlasic was "a magician." If we look for a conspiracy involving hypnosis we probably must start with him. It gets more difficult with the other Franciscans. Some of them must have been involved if such a group hypnotism took place and if repeated hypnotisms were necessary. Father Jozo Zovko might be a candidate. Father Jozo, according to one piece of testimony written by a priest claiming the visions are genuine, had been holding meditation sessions for women and children in the church at Medjugorje during the months prior to the commencement of the supposed apparitions. The meditation sessions would take place after mass with Father Jozo telling the men they could now leave. This would certainly by the circumstantial evidence we're looking for that might suggest an opportunity for the selection and programming of vulnerable individuals and/or the inducement of fake visions. But at the moment I shouldn't call it evidence. It's merely my best guess. Another figure we would have to look at among the Franciscans is the now deceased Father Slavko who appears to be held in high regard by many who have met him. I am postulating that if a conspiracy has taken place to fake visions at Medjugorje, it seems necessary that some one or all of these three, Vlasic, Jozo and Slavko, must each have been involved.

In the New Year I will be travelling to Medjugorje. I will report what I discover there, on these pages.

the monica leech laugh in

On Friday six Eurostar trains running between Paris and London broke down at the same time.
Five of them broke down in the channel tunnel itself.
For the past three days, incredibly, the train company has been unable to get its trains running again.
Some commentators have suggested the trains broke down because of snow and ice.
Ha, ha, ha.
In spite of what the global warming brigade tells you, snow and ice have been a feature of winters in Europe since long before the invention of the train.
We've never had six simultaneous break downs before, anywhere.
During copious media coverage of the unprecedented simultaneous break down of six Eurostar trains, (cf: the inexplicable inability of the train company to get trains running through the channel tunnel again and the unaccountable three day cessation of all train services on the route), not one mention has been made of the possibility that Muslim Al Qaeda agents working in Eurostar maintenance crews have sabotaged the trains.
I'll mention it.
It is now a distinct possibility that Muslim Al Qaeda agents working in Eurostar maintenance crews have deliberately sabotaged the six trains in order to paralyse the channel tunnel rail link and create travel chaos at Christmas.
This possibility will not be mentioned on Sky News because Sky News has only one major advertising revenue stream which comes from the (Muslim) royal family in Qatar who also, by the by, finance the pro Al Qaeda (Muslim) Al Jazeera news station.
Lovely people.
Nor will the possibility that the Eurostar train stoppage is the result of Al Qaeda sabotage be mentioned on CNN, because CNN has spent the past eight years attempting to discredit President George Bush's warnings about Al Qaeda and has instead invested heavily in the appeaserish delusionism of President Groovy Obama.
Sleep now in the fire, as we radicals always say.
And whatever you do, don't mention the Muslims.
I mentioned them once but I think I got away with it.

Copy to: The Times of London, The Telegraph, The Guardian, The New York Times, The Washington Compost, Newsweek, Time Magazine, Channel Four, the BBC, The Irish Times, Le Monde, ABC, CBS, NBC, and all the other appeasers.

a christmas card for the johnston press

I have destroyed you.
Your newspapers are worth nothing.
Your printing companies are worth nothing.
You are worth nothing.
Now. Get.Out. Of. My. Country.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

can such things be

At a convent on the island of Hawaii, a group of nuns had gathered around the bed of one of their sisters who was ailing and not expected to survive the night.
The dying sister was very old.
Also present in the room was the Eucharist, the communion bread which Catholic tradition teaches contains the real presence of Christ.
The dying nun sat up in her bed, looked at the Eucharist and said: "Oh my beloved."
She then became young and beautiful.
The other nuns around the bed saw her transformed before their eyes.
The nuns who witnessed this felt their own spirits soar into ecstasy.
The beautiful girl sat back on the bed.
She became an old nun again.
She died.
The other nuns emerged from their elevated spiritual state.
They thought a few minutes had passed.
They checked the clock.
They had been in ecstasy for thirteen hours.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

angels of murkadi

Father Paddy Foley (83) has returned to Nigeria after his recent holiday with the Holy Ghost Fathers in Dublin. This week he sent this photo to my Dad, his friend since childhood. The picture shows eight women from the town of Murkadi who had been praying for girl children as in the past they only had boys. On the first Sunday in advent Father Foley celebrated mass in a grass roofed church at Murkadi. The women asked him to bless their new babies. God had answered all their prayers. The congregation at Murkadi took up a collection for the women after the mass.

today they said

(Live from the Copenhagan summit on Climate Change.)

Evo Morales (President of Bolivia): I teenk climate change ees a beeg problem. Si. In my country I ave been applying a failed system of communeest deektatorsheep for de last few years. But thees ees not what makes Bolivia poor. No. Ees de climate change. My failed Staleeneest policies are not de cause. I want free money for me and my dictatorship, I mean deektatorsheep. Free money from de rest of de wurlll. Tank you.

Raul Castro (President of Cuba): I agree wit Evo. About everyteeng. We have had fifty years of murderous communist atheistic dictatorship in Cooba. But dis is not why our country is peeess poor. Iss de rest of de wurrrlll an its carbon. We wanna da free money juss like Boleeveea. So we can continooo our murders an dictatorin an lockin up de wrydoors an de journaleests. Tank you.

Hugo Chavez (President of Venezuela): Allo gringos. George Bush is de devil. Gimme da free money. My country is poor because of all dose free western democracies. Sure I am a murdering dictator who has propped up the Farc terror army in neighbouring Columbia for de years. But hey. Who hasn't? You canna make a Marxian omelette widout breakin a few humanitarian eggs. Know whad I mean, gringos? We Venezuelans are a dictatorsheep but dat's not why we're poor. We're poor cos o you gringos. Gimme da money. Gimme da money for da climate change or I'll unleash my Russian sponsored army of turd world killers on alla youse. You doity rats. You doity rats. Made it Ma. Top of the world. Grassy ass.

Omar Hassan Ahmed Al Bashir (President of Sudan): Allah u akbar. Give me your money and I'll give you Islam. Nyah ha ha G-Force. Sudan is not poor because of my fifty year Islamist dictatorship. Sudan is not poor because I've murdered three million people in the south of my country in a civil war. Sudan is not poor because I've murdered three hundred thousand people in the north west of my country in another civil war. Sudan is not poor because I've run it as a Soviet camp for three decades and as an Islamist camp for two more. Sudan is poor because of climate change. Allah told me in a dream that I can kill whoever I like. I can wipe out the whole population of Sudan. And the west must still give me free money because of this made up con job we murdering dictators call climate change. When your luck's in, why fight it!

King Hassan (Ruler of Morococococococco): Morocco is not poor because of my fifty year war of extermination against the people of Western Sahara. It's the climate change dunnit. Gimme da free money.

Umbootoo (Ruler of the Congo): Millions dead. In just a few years. Millions. The horror. The horror. If you people still believed in God, you'd know satan when you saw him. He is very close now. Do you think the diabolic tide of slaughter will stop in Africa? I will accept any free money you send me on account of non existent climate changes. But look at my country. And turn back to your God of light and truth. You will need him soon. Heaven help us all.

Colonel Gadaffy (Psycho in Chief, Libya): Libya's endemic poverty and decultured psychotisised people have nothing to do with the pyschotic religion of Islam or with my own psychotic family of psychotic loon loon loons. Our failure during fifty years of murderous dictatorship to deliver a better standard of living or civilisation to our country in spite of massive oil wealth, is solely the result of climate change. Hannibal, put down that human skull. Bad boy. Bad. I've told you before not to kill people in the living room. Hannibal's my eldest. Such a chore. No decorum at all. Free money from the west to compensate me for climate change. Whoopee. I honestly didn't see that one coming. Last train to transcentral. Justified ancients of Mu Mu. Where were we?

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (President of the Islamic Republic of Iran): Boom.

Jose Eduardo Dos Santos (President of Angola): Some of these third world wimps are trying to steal my thunder. They're also rans. They don't know how to really enslave and impoverish a population. They're just amateur mass murderers. I've been imposing Marxian dictatorship on Angola for six decades. I even got the United Nations to say one of my elections was free and fair in 1992. The same United Nations that rubbished the American backed democracy in Afghanistan. I kid you not. Ha, ha, ha. I've waged civil war throughout that time. Western democracies are to blame. How dare they create wealth and dignity for their populations while I was murdering mine. Now all these African and Arab scum are trying to get in at the ground floor of my victim culture routine. Everybody wants to get into the act. Well listen to me. I got worse climate change than anybody. Show me the money. Show me the money. Show me the moneeeeeeeey.

Robert Mugabe (President of Zimbabwe): Zimbabwe is not poor because of my thirty year Marxian dictatorship. Nor is it poor because I've imposed precisely the same communist system on my people that the Russians figured out was a crock of shite two decades ago. Nor is it poor because of the murders my police officers commit. Why, they're nearly as bad as Irish police officers at this stage. But I digress. Zimbabwe is not poor because I have forced four million people to flee the country. Zimbabwe isn't poor because I seized land from white farmers. No. Such domestic terrorism is good for a country. Nor is Zimbabwe poor because my Stalinist economic policies have shut down the economy. No. None of my murderous mismanagement is the cause. Zimbabwe is poor simply and solely because of climate change. The western world must now give me free money so that I can continue to debase an entire nation in the style to which I've become accustomed. Exit... Stage left... Ululating...

Hu Jin Tao (President of China): Climate change, is velly nice way of impeding the democlatisation of the planet earth while distlacting attention from the war on tellor. Me likee very much. China is nice dlictatorship. Tlue, we plop up the govelment of Sudan and lun North Kolea as a Chinese plovince with the explicit purpose of destabilising democlacies on our borders. Tlue we also sponsor Maoist rebellions in India and Nepal. And you should see what we do to Tibetans when they start tlying to lepudiate our invasion of their country. But aside flom that, we velly nice. No ploblems here. Move along now. Or I'll shoot you.

Vladimir Putin (President of Russia): If it inconveniences America then I'm for it. I am resovietising Russia. I am establishing collaborative links with Hugo Chavez, Evo Morales, Castro's Cuba, the vomitous Saudis, and the Islamic Republic of Iran. I am determined to put Russia on the wrong side of history. I am sheltering the Polonium 90 murderer of dissident Boris Lugevoy in the Russian parliament. I have instructed nuclear bombers to begin threatening western Europe again with provocative overflights. Tell Agent 99 to hurry up and seduce Heelers. Some of this stuff is starting to get a bit embarassing.

John Fry (Chief Executive Officer of the Johnston Press): I'm a c---.

Gordon Brown (Prime Minister of Great Britain): I'd rather believe in climate change than recognise the genuine threat to humanity now arising from dysfunctions in the Muslim world as evidenced by the ongoing infiltration of Al Qaeda murder armies into Western Europe via people traffickers. Honestly, I'm just useless.

Nicholas Sarkozy (President of France): I am also, ow you say, useless.

Barack Obama (President of the United States of America): Those guys may be useless but I'm groovy.

James Healy: Climate change is a lie based on fake science. It began as an attempt by atheistic environmentalists to invent an atheistic apocalypse. It really took off when declining left wing media groups began to champion it. Appeasers like Al Gore latched on, sensing an opportunity to diminish President Bush's war on the terror armies of Islam. Impoverished third world countries latched on looking for hand outs. Corrupt financial institutions were happy to embrace the myth, as they sensed the possibility of huge profits trading the nonsensical carbon credits which advocates of the fiction were proposing to use to control emissions. All of their motivations were and are based on falsehood. False science. False economics. False thinking. There is no climate change. If the weather turns on us, it will be because God is punishing us for our abortion culture, our promiscuity culture, our drugs culture, our society wide sex abuse culture, our murder culture, our dictatorships, our pornography, our enslavement of men, women and children to the pleasure ethic, our abuse of the elderly in old folks homes, our hatred of all that is good, our failure to show love. I agree with the leader of the Congo whom I made up. It would behove us now to ask God if he's real, and if he is real, to ask him for mercy, conversion and peace.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

decembering at the chateau

The Cardinal and the tit should be friends.

(Respectfully dedicated to popular Cardinal Sean Brady and to the proprietor of Independent Newspapers Mr Tony O'Reilly esquire.)

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


footballers cheer a score
pat carroll shoots rabbits in the gloom
children steal crab apples
and farmer byrne calls the cattle home

perhaps this chaotic place
is not kilcullen in 1989
but a dusty frontier town
at the heart of ancient palestine

the sounds dissolve
into a muted half felt bliss
fluted by fond memory
and a strange provincial holiness

Monday, December 14, 2009


Evening at the chateau.
MC Hamster sat up in the palm of my hand and stared at me intently.
I stared back.
"How much do you see little hamster?" I wondered. "I've read that hamsters can't see much at all. Yet you seem to be looking right at me."
Her expression remained calm.
I had a sudden overwhelming sense of the dignity of creatures.
"Why did God make you little hamster?" I continued. "What did he intend? What gifts did he give you? What senses did he give you? He gave dogs lots of senses. What did he give to hamsters?"
"He gave us good looks," replied Hammy smoothly.
At my feet Paddy Pup stirred in deep contentment.
He expressed no interest in the hamster.
If I didn't know him better, I'd say he'd given up all aspirations towards eating her.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

from meki orphanage in ethiopia

Matewos shares a smile of pure joy.

sex and religion

Coffee with the Perfect Fit in the Costa Cafe on Dawson Street.
Around us the room cacaphones with life.
The Perfect Fit fixes me with a Spanish stare.
"James," she says seriously, "you are not to mention God today."
The noble Heelers is mildly taken aback.
"You're the second person who said that to me this week," I tell her.
The Perfect Fit is keen to know who the other was.
"It was Sexy Miss Russia," I explain.
The Perfect Fit expresses approval for Sexy Miss Russia's censorious conversational superludities.
I feel further elaboration on the Heelers position is necessary.
"Listen," I say. "When I talk to you about God and when I talk to Sexy Miss Russia about God, that's two completely different things."
"Why?" demands the Spanish lady.
My handsome preraphaelite features break into a cheesy grin.
"Because when I talk to you about God I'm really trying to convert you," expostulates me. "But when I talk to Sexy Miss Russia about God, it's just because I'm scared of her."

a scientists prayer

bright the sky
the god of miracles
and molecules
sits on his throne to night
that the humble
and the mighty
may rejoice

murder by newspaper

My old English teacher Father Donaldson stepped off a boat into the Atlantic ocean.
I wonder why.
I wonder did the Independent Newspapers pogrom against the Catholic church cause him to do it.
A priest up on Thomas street stepped out of a bell tower.
I wonder why.
I wonder did the Independent Newspapers pogrom against the Catholic church cause him to do it.
There have been others.
Ah yes.
This thing comes with a body count.
You all realise that.
They're killing people now.
Hey Independent Newspapers.
You're the world's first newspaper group to empower itself with the right to dispense the death penalty.
I weep for you.
Yesterday The Evening Herald, which is part of the Independent Newspapers group, printed a banner headline on its front page reading: CHURCH COVER-UP MURDER REOPENED.
The Evening Herald headline is a grotesque lie.
Nearly as grotesque as the lie printed by Independent Newspapers journalist Ian O'Doherty some months ago when he claimed falsely, maliciously and malignly that the Catholic church was itself a paedophile ring.
Yesterday's lie in the Evening Herald related to the murder of Bernadette Connolly a ten year old girl who disappeared in 1970.
The Evening Herald offered no evidence to substantiate its mendacious and manipulative use of the phrase "church cover up."
The Evening Herald alleged that a priest who is now deceased and a monk were suspects. (There was a monastery near where the girl was abducted. Irish police would naturally have questioned the monks as a matter of course. If the deceased priest was as odd as he's painted, then it would have been natural to pay him particular attention. Where I live, the serial killers Crerar and Murphy, stalked South Kildare for twenty years. During that time, the police questioned half the male population in the region. All were innocent. I wonder does Independent Newspapers consider half the male population of South Kildare are implicated in Crerar and Murphy's killings? Or just the priests who lived in the area?)
The Evening Herald suggested that other monks had changed their stories. (Any of us who've given statements to the police, may remember changing something we've said, on reflection. Outside of Independent Newspapers this is not necessarily regarded as an indication of guilt.)
The Evening Herald suggested that the statements of retired Garda Jarlath Grennan indicate a cover up. No evidence or statement is offered from Jarlath Grennan that relates to the church in any way. Jarlath Grennan is quoted as claiming he was ordered by his superior officers to abandon his surveillance of a footprint and that the footprint was no longer at the scene the following day. Jarlath Grennan's claims as outlined in The Evening Herald relate only to the behaviour of those police superiors whom he is quoted as saying "bungled" the investigation.
The Evening Herald suggested that a monastery's van had been seen in the area of the child's abduction. (All of us who drove through South Kildare when Crerar and Murphy were in their hay day, will be particularly nauseated by The Evening Herald's attempt to ascribe guilt in this way.)
The Evening Herald offered no evidence or justification for its headline phrase "CHURCH COVER UP MURDER REOPENED."
The Evening Herald offered nothing at all beyond a tissue of innuendo.
Let me be clear.
Even if a monk or a priest from the monastery killed the girl, even if this happened, and if it did happen then the truth should be told, even so I tell you The Evening Herald is using the case for its own anti Catholic propaganda.
The Evening Herald has offered no evidence for its assertions.
The Evening Herald headline alleging CHURCH COVER-UP MURDER REOPENED is vile, dishonest, dishonourable, evil and untrue.
The Irish Independent itself featured the Evening Herald story on Saturday.
The Irish Independent was much more circumspect in its attempt to construct an illusion of guilt over the church for the death of Bernadette Connolly.
But it was playing the same game.
Independent Newspapers have been compelled to pay 1.87 million in libel damages for telling the truth about Monica Leech.
Yet Independent Newspapers is permitted to calumniate, slander, libel, trahaise and torture in newsprint, the millions of honourable Christians who built our country.
The law is ceasing to function in Ireland before our very eyes.
Can you hear me Independent Newspapers?
Can you hear me Judge Liberal?
Can you hear me murderers?
You will answer for every drop of innocent blood you've shed.


Footnote: Dateline, November 2013.. Several years after the above article appeared on the Heelers Diaries, cracks began to appear in Independent Newspaper's attempts to imply guilt for the murder of Bernadette Connolly to a priest and order of monks. In 2011 Irish police admitted that they had a new suspect for the murder. Officers travelled to Britain to interview Bob Reynolds, a convicted paedophile whose known previous crimes included rape and attempted murder of children in Ireland and Britain. The Irish cops then forwarded a file to the Department of Public Prosecutions in Ireland, which is a standard procedure here prior to a trial. In 2013, the Department of Public Prosecutions announced that it was not going to proceed with the case, implying that this decision was due to the advanced age of Bob Reynolds, the suspected murderer of Bernadette Connolly. The Department of Public Prosecutions in Ireland is a notoriously corrupt institution. Its previous cover ups included the failure to prosecute satanist Lorcan Bale for his 1973 murder of a little boy called John Horgan, and its continuing failure in tandem with the police, Judiciary and political executive of the Republic of Ireland to take any action against a satanistic Dalkey paedophile ring which murdered Baby Noeleen also in 1973. Needless to say, the emergence of the identity of a non Catholic, non religious, suspect for the murder of Bernadette Connolly has not led to retractions of the previous Independent Newspapers slanders and incitements to hatred, claiming a Church cover up in the case. Nor have the retired police officers who supposedly told Independent Newspapers that they thought a priest killed the girl, seen fit to publically explain themselves. Nor have these police officers been named, unlike the priest and order of monks whom they appear to have wrongly and possibly deliberately, implicated in the murder of Bernadette Connolly. The issue is this. Since police officers were members of the satanistic Dalkey paedophile ring, other police officers may also be engaged in similar activities and might for their own twisted reasons be expected to falsely implicate as many innocent priests and religious people for as many fit up murders as possible. It is therefore imperative that those retired police officers who supposedly sourced the Independent Newspapers frame up of a priest and an order of monks for the murder of Bernadette Connolly, should themselves be identified and made accountable for their unwarranted and untrue statements in this matter. If there are any genuine concerns about the priest or order of monks, ie concerns not related to the bigotries of the investigators and reporters, then these too should be brought into the plain light of day. Otherwise retractions should be issued and compensation should be paid for the reputation so blithely ruined by Independent Newspapers in seeking to stoke up yet another anti Catholic pogrom among the peasantry. Independent Newspapers itself apparently considers this story to be dead and buried. Interestingly enough Independent Newspapers, by now a financially bankrupt nay destitute newspaper group, has pushed forward with a new corporate strategy expressly attempting to portray itself as favourably disposed towards the Catholic Church. This has been done through the hiring on all its titles of journalists who forcefully and publically claim to be Christians. I would also postulate that Independent Newspapers, fearing the growing public awareness of its anti Catholic agendas, has actually engineered a reverse takeover of The Irish Catholic newspaper through the buy out of that title by poor little rich ex monk Gary O'Sullivan, himself now a regular contributor to the Irish Independent. Under Mr O'Sullivan's proprietorship, the Irish Catholic contains woeful saccharine sweet weekly articles by Sarah Carey of the Evening Herald, David Quinn of the Irish Independent, Mary Kenny of the Irish Independent and William Reville of the Irish Times. These articles are without journalistic, intellectual or spiritual merit, and serve no purpose whatsoever other than to allow Mssrs, Carey, Kenny, Quinn, Reville, et al, to market themselves and their anti Catholic employers as Catholics.

Friday, December 11, 2009



a satire on the reporting style of independent newspapers with regard to pope john paul the second

the pope looked old
the pope looked very old
the pope looked very old and walked with a stick
the pope looked old very old walked with a stick and is going to die soon
soon the pope will die
the pope is reeeeeeeeeaaaalllly verrrrry old
soon he will be an ex pope
the pope is decaying
the pope is ancient
the pope is decrepit
bye bye popey bye bye
come on we're waiting
surely he'll be dead soon
he is soooooooooooooo realllllllllly verrrrrrrrrrrrry old
not like tony o'reilly
that gay young thruster
with his shock of golden hair
glinting in the sun
like a field of ripe corn
and his fascinating stories about rugby players
and his amazing stack of cash
and his beautiful plummy accent
and his school tie
and his newspaper group
and and and
loved by millions


Margaret Lord is dead.
Her funeral mass is this morning at the Church of Our Lady of Consolation in Donnycarney.
She will be buried in Saint Fintan's cemetary.
Margaret Lord's daughter is a journalist called Miriam Lord.
Miriam Lord writes a sad atheistic rip off of this blog for the Irish Times.
A few days ago Miriam Lord asserted in her column that "religion is the last refuge of a scoundrel."
I wonder does Miriam Lord include her Mother in that assessment of those who believe in the ancient truths of the Catholic faith.
I wonder will Miriam Lord be propping up a pew this morning in the Church of Our Lady of the Liberals at Donnycarney.
I wonder is Miriam Lord the ultimate anodyne pious atheistic hypocrite.
Excuse me.
I have to vomit.

the monica leech laugh in

Well known accomodator of liberals, Archbishop Diarmuid Martin was sitting on a plane at Dublin airport.
His private secretary Father Snurdlingham noticed that the Archbishop was staring fixedly out the window.
"What are you looking at?" wondered the private secretary.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin sat back in his seat.
"I was looking at that other plane," he explained, "to see if I was on it."

Thursday, December 10, 2009

how corrupt is the irish police force

Coffee with Doctor Barn.
I am complaining about the Irish police force, known incomprehensibly to most, by its Irish title An Garda Siochana.
A rough translation is guardians of the peace.
Dog rough.
I am fuming.
"They have replaced the international motto of policing, To Protect And Serve with a new motto of their own," I tell the brother hotly. "The Irish cops motto now is, To Harass And Intimidate."
Daktari remains non committal.
"You just don't like the police," he charges.
"I think they're individually and institutionally corrupt," I shoot back.
"They've brought down the road death rate," he persists.
I nod grimly.
"Mussolini made the trains run on time and put a temporary stop to the Mafia," I observe. "It wasn't worth it."

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

christmas at the old chateau

He's making a list. He's checking it twice. He knows everyone who's been naughty or nice...

dawn becomes a budgie

It is morning at the chateau.
The budgies are chattering for their croissants.
I'm sitting in the kitchen with the Mammy quaffing coffees.
"What are you going to call them?" asks the aged parent.
"I was thinking of Onan and Potiphar," sez me.
"You can't do that," asserts the Mammy.
"Why not?" interrogatives I.
"Because your nephews will want to know where you got the names," expostulateth she.
I grin above the din.
"Then I'll just tell them the truth," I insist, " which is that when their granny was young, a priest called to the house and asked what her canary's name was. And your granny said: Onan, because he keeps spilling his seed."
The lady known as Lil favours me with a severe look.
"Ah you wouldn't," quoth she.
"I think I would," sez me.
"Then I'll start calling you Onan Na Nein," threateneth she.
This is an interesting twist.
Vintage Lillism, you might say.
Onan Na Nein is Irish for Onan Of The Birds.
It's a pun on the title of a Padraic Pearse short story called Eoghaneen Na Nein, or Little John Of The Birds.
As nicknames go, it lacks something in the sort of grandeur I have come to expect in my monickers.
I mean, it's a bit of a comedown after Dracula, Yakkie, Smiler, The Dasher, The Jumpen, Batman, Tasmanian Devil, and Heeler The Peeler.
Also, due to a small fallng out with Padraic Pearse in my youth over the use of violence as a means to an end, I have no wish to be nicknamed after any character in one of his short stories.
"I'll call the budgies Green and Blue," I tell her dourly.
The Mammy's laugh is positively triumphal.


two lovers walk the claddagh
ruffed and ragged by a winter breeze
they're as much a part of galway
as the wildern wintern seas
their laughter echoes gleaming
like the verses of a song
their image held and bade me
scorn the wealth of solomon

a strange high bastardy

A lawyer called Pearse Mehigan had an article in the Irish Times on Monday.
The article was headlined: "JAIL IS PENALTY FOR CONCEALING SEX ABUSE."
The thrust of the article is that Bishops who didn't handle reports of sex abuse the way Pearse Mehigan and his plush bottomed liberal lawyer friends claim they should have been handled, Bishops who sought to be discreet or who simply accepted poor legal advice on what to do, Bishops who didn't instantly assume every allegation was true, well then those Bishops should now be considered criminally liable, guilty in fact of concealing sex abuse.
Nice one for Pearse Mehigan.
Anyone Pearse Mehigan and his friends say is guilty, goes straight to jail.
That means anyone who ever sought to deal with a sex abuse allegation discreetly would be liable to lose their freedom.
Which means I'm going to jail for a start.
Because back in the 1980's a young man came to me in Kilcullen.
We discussed sex abuse issues.
I said: "Sex abusers should be shot."
The young man said: "No James, it's just a weakness, you couldn't shoot someone for that."
I was outraged and asked him how he could justify that position.
The young man said: "Well, I was molested as a child by someone down the fields. I don't want him shot."
I never asked him to identify his abuser.
I never informed the police.
By the Pearse Mehigan standard, I'm going to do hard time.
A few years later, a teenage girl from a local school came to me.
She said that one of the temporary teachers had been entering the girls' toilets at the school.
She was a prefect and some of the girls wanted her to go to the Headmaster about the situation.
I asked her had the teacher touched anyone.
She said no, that his behaviour seemed more pathetic than dangerous, and that she felt sorry for him.
She told me she believed the girls at the school were excited by the whole notion of having him thrown out of the school, but that he would be leaving in a few weeks anyway.
I took no further action after what that girl told me.
By the Pearse Mehigan standard, again I'm facing hard time.
And finally.
Around 1991.
A teacher in a primary school asked me for advice.
She said another teacher was sitting children on his knee in an inappropriate way.
She told me the staff were keeping a close watch on him and that he too would be leaving the school in another few weeks.
I asked were any efforts being made to warn other schools.
She threw up her hands and said: "Oh we couldn't do that."
And I didn't do it either.
I made no attempts to warn other schools.
So by the Pearse Mehigan rule of law, I guess I'm due the electric chair.
Bloody hell.
I mean who needs the f---ing rule of law anymore when we've got Pearse Mehigan and his kangaroo court of Dublin Four atheistic liberals.
Good God.

Even the Soviets and the Nazis had more honour than this shower when they went about their own murderous persecutions of the church.
Pearse Mehigan works for a group styling itself One In Four, a group which claims to represent sex abuse victims.
I do not hold this group in high regard.
Other media commentators subject them to zero critical scrutiny.
Strangely enough, I have this persistent memory of a sex abuse activist group which was set up by a gangster involved in prostitution, drug dealing and murder.
The general public had no knowledge of this gangster's career as a gangster.
The public only knew him as an activist on sex abuse issues.
The media knew he was a gangster.
But the media chose to conceal that fact.
The media didn't consider the gangster's career in murder, prostitution and drugs, to be relevant information for the public to know when assessing the gangster's attempts to incriminate the Catholic church for abuses he claimed to have suffered as a child.
The media concealed the gangster's gangsterism from the public right up until the moment the gangster was gunned down on his doorstep by another gangster.
At this point, his gangsterism could be concealed no more.
I can't remember what sex abuse group the gangster was involved with.
I wonder was it the One In Four.
I say again.
I do not hold them in high regard.
A sex abuse victim who collaborates with the Nazis is still a Nazi in my book.
Even if he's a Nazi with a good excuse.
Yes indeed.
The problem with Pearse Mehigan's suggestion that Irish law permits the incarceration of Bishops whom Pearse Mehigan believes didn't properly handle sex abuse accusations against priests in their employ, the problem with all of this as an interpretation of law, the serious and profound problem I say, is that it would give the likes of Pearse Mehigan limitless power to imprison whoever he likes.
If we are now to imprison Bishops at the whim of this profiteering activist tripe hound (I'm sure Pearse Mehigan won't mind a little robust language since he's at present trying to criminalise an entire generation of priests, nuns and Christians, I mean he's accustomed to dishing it out, perhaps it would be good for him to know what it feels like, after all as far as I'm concerned, he's just another low rent social Marxian guttersnipe inventing new crimes to humiliate the great generation in their old age while simultaneously trying to piss me off, but I digress), if we are to imprison Bishops whom the immortal Pearse Mehigan and his liberal friends deem to have concealed sex abuse, should we not then imprison other people who have facilitated the freedom and actions of much more dangerous criminals?
Should we not imprison the Liberal Judges and Defence Lawyers who for years kept psychotic killer Gerald Barry free, got him out of jail quick every time he murdered somebody, facilitated Gerald Barry's rights in such a way that Gerald Barry's murders were never called murders, ensured through their legalistic skills that Gerald Barry was free to kill, kill, assault, grievously bodily harm, kill again, rape, rape, assault, deal drugs, blind a pensioner, rape, rape, assault and rape, with gay abandon until he finally raped and slaughtered 17 year old Manuela Riedo down by the rail road tracks and the rest of us woke up.
I gotta tell you folks.
There's a real scandal for you.
Nothing the few old Bishops did in their attempts to deal with allegations of sex abuse against priests in their employ, no alleged incompetence by those Bishops, not one of the Bishops' sins of omission or commission, not one of em I say, comes close to the mayhem inflicted by Pearse Mehigan's friends the Liberal Judges of the Irish Republic, inflicted by these same corrupt clownish criminal Liberal Judge incompetents on the people of Ireland for decades through these same Liberal Judges' ongoing practice of releasing psychotic murdering raping swines into the general community, these same Liberal Judges' habitual commutation of Killers' sentences on technicalities, these same Liberal Judges crass payments to themselves of million dollar salaries, these same Liberal Judges' failure to impose heavy sentences on the drug dealers who've bought them off, these same Liberal Judges' refusal to call murder "MURDER," preferring instead the cute get out of jail free card MANSLAUGHTER, or even the more obscene get out of jail free euphemism ACQUITTAL DUE TO DIMINISHED RESPONSIBILITY.
Nothing the Bishops did, or didn't do, even comes close.
I say more.
Nothing the child abusers did comes close.
Yeah there is a scandal here.
The church is being persecuted by scoundrels.
I mean you Pearse Mehigan.
I don't believe for a second that you care one whit about sex abuse victims.
If you did, you would have made it clear to the general public that all sex abuse victims are equally important.
You would have pointed out that the vast preponderance of sex abuse cases have nothing to do with the church.
You would have made it clear that we must do something about the 99.99 percent of cases that occur in the home or at the hands of paedophile rings in the community.
And you would have made it clear that right this moment in Ireland, sex abuse levels have sky rocketed.
If you cared about the truth Pearse Mehigan, you would have told the truth.
Shame on you.
Can you hear me, you cur.
Shame on YOU.
If we insist on recognising some victims as more important than others, then surely this greater importance should be applied not to the victims who can generate the most money for Pearse Mehigan and his liberal lawyer friends through law suits against the church, but to the victims who have suffered the most.
And to the victims who are most numerous by a factor of 99.99 percent.
Surely the 99.99 percent of victims of sex abuse have some relevance, possess some rights, and deserve some justice, not just the 0.01 percent of victims that are useful to the Irish Times, Independent Newspapers, and RTE in their proxy war against Catholicism.
The real victims of sex abuse are still ignored in Ireland.
Meanwhile the dying debt laden media groups continue their pre Christmas persecution of the ancient church.
A few weak and trendy Bishops and Cardinals seek to mollify their media persecutors by accepting false ascriptions of wrong doing against their clerical predecessors in the church.
It's diabolical.
Let this never be forgotten.
As Ireland drowned in a sea of violence, suicide, promiscuity, murders, drug dealing, sex abuse, elder abuse, militant trade unionism, corrupt politicians, corrupt banks, corrupt Judges, thug police officers, gutty Lawyers, and the like, as the country was in its darkest hour, RTE, Independent Newspapers, and the Irish Times sought to destroy the one force for good that might have brought us safely through the maelstrom.
They sought to lay low the faith of our fathers.
Let it never be forgotten of them.
And let the tyrants beware.

(Copies to: The Sun, The Daily Star, The Daily Mail, The Daily Mirror.)