The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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

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Saturday, April 03, 2010

kilcullen easter

the lambing time
evanescent leaves
provincial poets stitching worn out rhymes
into patchwork quilted semaphores of praises
all of these
mist like matting in muddy fields
old men rejoicing in campaniles
all of these
everything that breathes is on its knees
for the coming of the lord
peace

archbishop diarmuid martin's infernal machine

Standing in the little room which leads onto the altar in Kilcullen Church.
It is the room referred to by Catholics as a sacristy.
The priest and altar servers enter the church from here.
There are signs scattered around the room relating to child abuse.
A total of three signs.
I can't help thinking.
It's a bit like overkill.
Propaganda overkill.
In a room where no child abuse has ever been committed.
In a church where no priest or nun has ever committed child abuse.
Three notices whose net effect is to make anyone reading them suspect that the priest or nun to their left is about to grab a hoult of their buttocks.
The net effect is to incriminate the best amongst us, those who are self sacrificing, innocent and blameless.
The net effect is calculated.
The net effect is deliberate.
Archbishop Diarmuid Martin has been sending these little notices to priests in the region, suggesting that they should display them.
And here they are.
One framed notice in Kilcullen Church is a prayer for forgiveness for the sin of child abuse.
Archbish Diarmuid Martin has said we all need to atone for child abuse.
He is wrong.
The only ones who need to atone for child abuse are those who've committed child abuse, and those in the media who have attempted to focus on a tiny minority of child abuse cases involving priests for the purpose of destroying the Catholic Church, and those ambitious power hungry manipulators within the Catholic Church including the liberal leftist pseudo progressive Archbishop Diarmuid Martin who have sought to use child abuse cases to weaken the Catholic Church so that they themselves might usurp power within the Catholic Church thereby remaking the Catholic Church in their own image.

Yeah, I'm talking about you Archy.
A second framed notice, mounted on a tripod is a prayer which Archbishop Diarmuid Martin pretends was sent to him by a child abuse victim.
You can believe that if you wish.
The third framed notice is set in sealed glass and screwed to the wall.
It contains a list of emergency telephone numbers for sex abuse victims to phone in the case of, er, an emergency.
Police, Medical people, Social Workers etc etc.
All the phone numbers a sex abuse victim could ever need.

Displayed here in the sacristy.
There you have it.
Three notices in the little room where the altar servers and the priest prepare for mass.
It's a bit rich.
At the behest of Archbishop Diarmuid Martin, priests across the region are being compelled to display such inculpatory material, that is to say material which would imply to any child reading it that they cannot trust their priests, nuns or church.
Now here's the thing.
The vast preponderance of child abuse cases occur in the community at the hands of non Christians.
Yet such notices are not being left for children at locations where they are infinitely more likely to be abused than in church.
No such notice is being displayed in the schools where thousands of children have been abused for decades and where abuse levels, drug taking, rapes, suicides and murders, are currently through the roof.
No such notice has been displayed in the Educate Together School in North Kildare where seven children committed suicide last year, indeed the case which dwarfs any scandal in the Catholic Church over the past 150 years, has barely been reported.
No such notice has been displayed in the swimming clubs and boxing clubs where children have been abused.
No such notice has been displayed in Drogheda Hospital where Doctor Michael Shine was abusing little boys with impunity for years and where Doctor Michael Neary spent decades violating women on the operating table for his own entertainment, removing the wombs of at least 160 women when there was no medical necessity to do so. Question. Do any of you really think Neary drew the line at removing wombs and didn't figure he owed it to himself to kill a few.
No such notice has been displayed in Saint Luke's hospital Kilkenny where a nurse who tortured a pregnant mother resulting in her child being born handicapped for life, has been able to keep her job with the help of her trade union and where pregant women need to just cross their fingers and hope the bitch isn't in torturing form today.
There is no such notice in Naas hospital where Nurse Mulholland was murdering people on the wards.
There is no such notice in Garda police stations where people have been dying mysteriously in the holding cells and suffering the most egregious police assaults at a rate unprecedented in the history of the State.
There are no such notices anywhere else.
Anywhere else other than in Catholic Churches.
The standard being applied to the Catholic Church by the atheistic media and its infiltrator ally within the Catholic Church Archbishop Diarmuid Martin, is an arbitrary one.
Arbitrary, false and utterly malign.
I say it again.
This is a persecution.
The only honorable course is to fight it.

an open letter to cardinal sean brady

Just bear in mind that if Jesus had resigned every time someone heaped scorn, lies and violence upon him, then the light of the world would never have shone to the nations.

Friday, April 02, 2010

theft of a nation

Ireland's corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government has over night spent the country into the Third World by bailing out Fianna Fail's personal lender the corrupt kleptocratic already collapsed Anglo Irish Bank.
During its hayday, Anglo Irish Bank provided limitless funds to Fianna Fail members, backers, developers and associated criminal enterprises, bankrolling the Fianna Fail political class without any real expectations that the billions of dollars being squandered could ever be repaid.
That's what Fianna Fail have signed the Irish nation into penury for.
To cover their own tracks and the tracks of their supporters.
This wasn't one of the big three banks.
It wasn't Allied Irish Bank.
It wasn't Bank Of Ireland.
It wasn't the Ulster Bank.
All of those are corrupt enough in themselves.
All of those have run an illegal cartel for at least fifty years whereby they got together secretly to agree prices and business strategies, ensuring the general public had no real access to competing banking services.
The wheel was rigged and it was the only game in town.
The Board members of Allied Irish Banks, Bank Of Ireland et al, all of whom are continuing to pay themselves million dollar salaries and bonuses, should be in jail and their assets sequestered.
But even so they are not in the same league as the debased criminal scum at Anglo Irish Bank.
The debts accrued by Anglo Irish Bank in giving free money to members of Fianna Fail and their criminal associates, dwarf the losses of the three largest banks in Ireland.
And Fianna Fail have forced us all to pick up the tab.
Here is the news.
Anglo Irish Bank is the financial whoremaster of the Fianna Fail party.
There is no commercial or national or intellectual or moral reason for the Irish people to take on board the forty thousand million dollars of indebtedness belonging to Anglo Irish Bank and Fianna Fail.
That's forty billion that we know about by the way.
In truth, Anglo Irish Bank and Fianna Fail owe much much more.
Their true indebtedness, and the final indebtedness with which they hope to saddle Ireland, will only become clear when their last accountancy trick caves in upon itself.
This is grand theft auto on a cosmic scale.
The Irish people have been forced to take on the near limitless gambling debts run up by Anglo Irish Bank, a financial institution that was never more than a niche player in the banking market and whose sole claim to financial aid stems from its largesse towards senior members of Fianna Fail and their friends.
This is the theft of a nation.
If we allow it to continue, Fianna Fail and their friends in Anglo Irish Bank, will destroy us all.

Thursday, April 01, 2010

orchid

 

provincial poets

this morning i read through the works of brian byrne
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 byrne shine thus
no greater and no less
than 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

great moments in bathos

Morning at the Chateau De Healy.
Ireland's greatest living poet staggers into the kitchen after a hard night eating Easter gugs.
His Dad is sitting disconsolately at the kitchen table.
The noble Heelers switches on the kettle.
"Don't bother," says the Dad."It's not working."
"It looks like it's working to me," sez I.
"It starts to boil and then it stops before the water is really hot," quoth Father.
I stare at the kettle.
The kettle returns my stare as if butter wouldn't melt in its mouth.
Boiling sounds are coming from it.
Soon it appears to my expert gaze to be bubbling merrily.
"Are you sure it's not working?" sez I to the Dad.
"Yes, you can see there's no steam coming out of the spout," answers he.
The noble Heelers places his hand over the spout.
His next words are: "Focquing hell, aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, for focque's sake, I can't believe I focquing did that."
I staggered around the kitchen nursing my burnt hand.
"I think it really is boiling Dad," I said after a few minutes.
Considering the circumstances, gentle traveller of the internet, and vulgarisms notwithstanding, I think you will agree that my words and actions showed an admirable level of decorum and restraint.

a letter to cardinal sean brady

Sean.
Don't resign under any circumstances.
You are an honorable and compassionate man.
You are a noble witness to the truth of the light.
You are a hero of the faith.
You have given a lifetime of witness and love to the people of Ireland.
I am a scoundrel and I know scoundrels when I see them.
Your accusers are scoundrels.
All of them.
James Healy

the story of my quarrel with cardinal sean brady

Standing in a queue at Rome airport.
The sexy sultry Italian girl handling the check in desk for our queue didn't feel like working.
The queue was not moving.
Queues to right and left of us proceeded forward at untypical Italian speed.
That is to say, they moved.
Ahead of me in my own queue was an Italian priest.
Also a nondescript grey haired senior citizen with a quiet demeanour.
Also a chubby ruddy faced Irish countryman and his wife who were gushing inanities over the nondescript grey haired fellow as though they knew him.
Presently the countryman and his wife stepped into the adjoining queue.
The nondescript guy joined them.
Now only the Italian priest was ahead of me in the non moving queue.
Suddenly the sexy sultry Italian girl woke up.
She beckoned the Italian priest forward.
He didn't move.
He signalled to the nondescript chap to step back into the queue in front of me.
The nondescript guy looked at me with mellow eyes.
"Is it alright?" he asked discreetly.
An Irish accent.
Just another queue jumping Paddy Whack.
I held his gaze and said nothing.
He could jump the queue.
But I would not give him permission to jump the queue.
The nondescript Irishman made his decision, stepped ahead of me up to the Italian sexicia and received his boarding pass.
In his wake, the chubby countryman and his wife stepped smartly back in front of me too and on up to the sexy check in girl.
The nondescript man turned to me.
"They're all doing it," he murmured genially with the hint of an apology in his tone.
Something in my stare made him hurry off.
The Italian priest now stepped up to Aud Sexy having held the place free for the other three queue galoots.
I waited quietly till he was gone.
My turn.
The Italian girl looked at me.
A smile suffused her features.
It was such a smile.
If you saw that smile during an earthquake, you'd say: "Who cares about earthquakes? Don't be bothering me. I'm contemplating celestial beauty."
It was so Italian the way she did it.
Made the whole earlier business of waiting while she idled, irrelevant.
In an instant, I cared nought for queue jumpers.
Or indeed for anything else.
I had seen proof of the divine in her smile.
Nothing else mattered.
The Italian girl's smile was the only thing in the universe.
I got my boarding pass.
Soon I was on my seat in the plane.
A whimsical grin playing about my handsome preraphaelite features.
It didn't last.
The nondescript Irishman came toddling down the aisle and sat down.
His seat was directly across from me.
Right across the aisle.
I felt my resentment rising.
He looked over in my direction and seemed poised to strike up a conversation, then thought better of it.
I sat back and did my best to relax.
A young air steward walked down the aisle.
"Your Eminence," he said to the nondescript Irishman. "You probably don't remember me. I fell sick in Rome last year and you visited me in the Gemelli hospital. I never got a chance to thank you but you kept an eye on me during my convalescence and made sure my family knew where I was."
The nondescript man exchanged pleasantries with the air steward.
A passenger wandered up from the back of the plane.
"Your Eminence," he said. "Thank you for everything you've done for peace in Northern Ireland."
The nondescript man insisted he'd done nothing.
"Do you think we'll ever see a lasting settlement there?" wondered the passenger.
"I know our children will see it," said the nondescript man.
The plane took off.
The passenger sitting in the seat adjacent to the nondescript man soon revealed himself as an interminable talker. The traveller's nightmare. He talked incessantly to El Nondescripto who soon looked weary.
"Good," I thought to myself. "Serves him right."
The nondescript man silenced his fellow traveller temporarily by pretending to pray the rosary.
Throughout the flight, at odd intervals, other people approached the nondescript man via the aisle to chat about all sorts of things.
Weary or not, he received them like old friends.
One couple thanked him for performing their wedding service ten years ago.
I began to find it difficult to maintain my dislike for him.
We got into Dublin after dark.
I was home by midnight.
My aged parents were waiting.
We had tea in the kitchen.
"I think I saw a senior churchman on the flight home," sez me.
Paddy Pup placed his head on my shoe.
The hamster stirred in my right sleeve.
"That was Cardinal Sean Brady," said the Mammy. "It was on the news that he was coming back from Rome tonight."
I nodded bitterly.
"He's a queue jumper," I pronounced. "He skipped ahead of me in the queue at the airport. It's a wonder the Catholic church has survived two millenniums with these sort of lads in it."
The Dad took a meditative sip of tea.
"He knew my sister," quoth he cryptically.
"You're joking," sez me.
The Dad showed not a tither of a smile nor spoke one word more.
The Mammy provided the explanation.
"A few years ago your Aunty Mary went to Rome to visit the shrine of Saint Rita of Cassia," recalled she. "She was over seventy years of age at the time and not a very good organiser. She arrived without booking accomodation in advance. When she was at Rome airport she rang the Irish College in the city looking for accomodation. The girl who answered the phone put Mary through to Bishop Brady. He was just a lowly Bishop at the time. Anyway he thought she sounded a bit out of her depth. So he drove out to the airport himself and collected her. He arranged accomodation for her at the Irish college. And he personally brought her up to the shrine of Saint Rita during the week. I think he had a car laid on for her throughout her stay so that she could see all the sights. He stayed in touch with her too afterwards. She always referred to him simply as Brady."
The noble Heelers let out a long low whistle.
From that moment I resolved never to harshly judge a queue jumper again.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

homage to turner

 

bleak heart

a boy stands in a field above the town
he does not know what the years will bring
dark night touches him and the rain
his spirit leaps in his imagining
 
a man writes at table in the dark
he wonders of all things what we are
spirits creatures matter worse
pitched forth comets about a dying star
 
tell me if all time is one time
and what is was and will be
was the boy already corrupt as he looked upon the town
am i already dead as i write

a day that will live in infamy

Ireland's corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail government has today formally brought into being legislation compelling the people of Ireland to cover the billion dollar gambling debts of Allied Irish Banks, Bank Of Ireland, and Fianna Fail's personal lender the debased gangster ridden Anglo Irish Bank, along with a host of other invidious financial institutions from Irish Life and Permanent to Trustee Savings Bank, both of which helped Anglo Irish Bank conceal its collapse from the public by illegally transferring billions of dollars to it to enable Anglo Irish to falsify its accounts.
The board members of Ireland's bankrupt banks and corrupt financial institutions continue to award themselves million dollar salaries and bonuses.
Most disgracefully, the board members who were in power over those banks for the past twenty years are being allowed to retain the multi million dollar payments and bonuses and assets, accumulated through a life time of theft, the free money with which they rewarded themselves while their banks were declaring profits which did not exist.
If I accept the rulership of Ireland, they'll be losing all of that.
Lochlainn Quinn will not be keeping his 30 million dollar vineyard in France as his company Allied Irish Banks single handedly gambles Ireland into the Third World.
Let's take Lochlainn Quinn's vineyard off of him.
All bank profits in the Republic of Ireland for the past twenty years have been based on accountancy tricks.
We should seize the assets of all board members of all banks and put all such skanks in jail.
Meanwhile Fianna Fail continues to pour billions of dollars of public money into Anglo Irish Bank purporting to be saving this already destroyed institution, while refusing to name the Fianna Fail members who obtained 30 million dollars loans from Anglo Irish Bank, used the loans to prop up the share price of Anglo Irish Bank, and then defaulted on repayments as the share price of Anglo Irish Bank went down the toilet.
And so it goes on.
You can see how dictatorships emerge.
The currency will collapse.
The trade unionised teachers, nurses, cops and uncivil servants persist in their extortion rackets, vowing to make no sacrifice to save the country, vowing indeed that the country must crash into bloodshed, violence, degradation and desolation, before they'll give up anything of what they have stolen.
They are worse than the bankers.
And ordinary decent citizens get thrown in jail for the non payment of fines.
A total of 3500 law abiding honorable decent citizens were sent to jail last year by Judge Liberal for non payment of parking fines.
Sixty of them hadn't paid for a television licence.
One of them was jailed for non payment of a dog licence.
Clearly we have to put a stop to Judge Liberal.
Not reform him.
Fire him.
Jail him.
Here is the news.
No Irish citizen should ever have been jailed for non payment of a fine.
The most Judge Liberal should be let do, is garnish a salary or social welfare payment.
But the Liberals are slowly but surely terrorising us into submission.
They are preparing us for social dictatorship.
The honest law abiding citizenry spend their lives hoping never to fall foul of thug cops or unaccountable Judges.
And still there are enough honorable Irish people, that if we got together, we could take it all back.
We need to set up a new political party to put a stop to this.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

heelers converts to islam

"Yasser Arafat turning in his grave. Official." - Associated Press.

"Ahmadinejad and Qadaffy threaten to convert to Christianity on hearing the news." - CNN/Time Warner.

"Bang goes the neighbourhood, fumes Bin Laden." -Reuters.

"Noooooooooooo. Anything but this." - The Prophet Muhammed.

eventide

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

and so it goes

Evening over the heartland.
Ireland's greatest living poet entered Kilcullen church and stood at the back.
The church was empty save for a group of actors on the altar portraying apostles in full period costume.
The scene was colorful, otherworldly, redolent with mystery.
It was like a little Palestine.
Instantly evocative of the eastern kingdom.
The air spiced with the incense of yore.
A rehearsal for our Easter pageant no less.
The one where I'm playing Saint Peter.
I always knew I'd get to be Pope one day.
I just never realised it would be the first Pope.
Arf arf.
As I watched the proceedings, the apostles began to argue over whether or not to flee Jerusalem.
I was enjoying the spectacle and the performances.
Suddenly my eye alighted on a local journalist called Brian Byrne, ensconced in a front pew with a camera.
I had hoped he wouldn't be called in to take photographs.
Recently he'd written some semi senescent dribblings about my ancient, beautiful and true Catholic Church on his decrepit, illegible and nauseating little blog.

Now I had no wish to find myself shouting perorations at him in the house of God.

And I didn't quite trust myself to be his presence.
This was the Lord's temple not the temple of my rage.
I turned and walked out.
On the altar some of the apostles spotted me leaving.
Vivian Clarke of Clarkes Menswear Newbridge, aka Saint Thomas, approached Saint John the Divine, aka my Uncle Scutch.
"He mustn't like the costumes," said Saint Thomas.
"Do you think that's it?" wondered Saint John drily.
"Is he gone for good?" asked Saint Matthew aka Fergal Sloane.
"I don't know," said Saint John looking divinely annoyed.
"Maybe he just thought the acting was terrible," mused Saint Matthew.
"That's neither impossible nor improbable," murmured Saint John thoughtfully.

The apostle Bartholemew joined the group along with Joseph Dooley of Arimethea and Tommy Lawler of Cyrene.
In certain lighting conditions Bartholemew is a dead ringer for Ger Kelly of Gilltown.
"He's probably just gone out to his car," said Saint Bartholemew reasonably.
"I doubt it," said Doubting Clarke doubtfully.
"What are we going to do?" put in Joseph Dooley of Arimethea.
"Leave it to me," said Doubting Clarke. "It's got to be the costumes. I'll talk to him."
Ah yes gentle readers.
In the event of a Heelers walkout, my friends and neighbours immediately leap to the conclusion that I didn't like the costumes.
Or that I think their own acting is dragging me down.
Not an entirely flattering assessment of my refined high brow principles.
Oh that the Lord the grace would gi'e us,
To see ourselves as others see us.
Well you know what I mean.
Meanwhile the apostle Nathanial, who does a very good impression of local man Dick Dunphy, was deep in conversation with Mary Magdalene who bears an uncanny resemblance to soprano singing sensation Philomena Breslin.
"Did you see James Healy standing at the back of the church a few minutes ago?" whispered Nathaniel.
"I did," said Mary Magdalene.
"Thank God," said Nathaniel with a sigh of relief. "One minute he was there and the next minute he wasn't. I thought I was having an hallucination."
While they talked thusly, the noble Heelers was standing in a field above the town communing with the Almighty.
"I can go back Lord," I said. "Once I take a breath and can trust myself not to start shouting, there's no problem. I know you don't give me the authority to scream By what right do you stand in this house Byrne, or Get thee hence to endless night Byrne. I know you don't give me the authority and I've no interest in shouting it if it's only going to be my own mental instability. So I'll go back and I'll be calm."
Back I went.
An effective enough rehearsal ensued.
There were a few moments when the apostles got a bit cheeky with Saint Peter, and began ad libbing remarks about his recent temperamental journey up the fields.
But mostly it was quite good.
The only ropy moment for me was when Byrne got a bit obstreporous, barking at me to sit in a chair for a photograph.
Meek as a lamb I did so.
It was an Easter miracle.

Monday, March 29, 2010

barack obama's statement on the al qaeda attack against russia

"We stand firmly with Russia.
We will conquer Al Qaeda with meaningless gestures and ringing speeches.
We will close Guantanamo Bay the only prison on earth that Al Qaeda members don't really like being sent to.
We will withdraw the American army from Iraq and Afghanistan.
We will roll over and play dead.
We will continue our efforts to criminalise former President George Bush and former Prime Minister Tony Blair, the only leaders in modern history to take anything approaching decisive action against the terrorist threat.
We will implement the teachings of Michael Moore and sundry other traitors.
We will appease.
We will bow.
We will surrender to Muslim terror.
Hopefully Al Qaeda will just get bored murdering Americans and Westerners with impunity.
Then victory will be assured."

the muslim attacks on russia

Al Qaeda bombed Moscow today.
The usual Muslim coward attack.
Women suicide bombers.
Trains.
Forty people dead.
For a few years now President Putin has been playing a duplicitous game with Muslim terror.
He's been helping the Iranians develop their nuclear programme.
He's been cosying up to the Saudis.
He has attempted to farm Arab psycho nations in order to inconvenience America and the Free World.
But the Muslims are at war with all of us.
Russians, Europeans, or Americans, we're all just meat to them.
Meanwhile the British pseudo intellectual establishment continues its appeaserish Iraq War Enquiry, a frivolous process intended to criminalise former American President George Bush and former British Prime Minister Tony Blair.
Sky News continues to accept funding from the bigamous Islamist King of Qatar, the man who also finances Al Jazeera the pro Al Qaeda Nazi channel.
The Sunday Express continues to cretinously eulogise the Qatari's despot's second wife as a modern enlightened career woman.
This England that was wont to conquer others hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
And all the time.
The Muslims are coming.

the bulldog spirit

My Easter greeting card to The Irish Times, Independent Newspapers, RTE et al. (Particularly al. I hate him.)

sonia et lumiere

i saw worlds in her eyes
how common and absurd this is
an ordinary surprise
glistening through centuries
down narrow city streets
birdsong over marshes
soft like a thief
or wind through the rushes
new for every heart that it touches

contours of the latest conspiracy to destroy the catholic church in ireland

1. Archbishop Diarmuid Martin fled Rome after failing to sabotage the careers of a generation of Irish Bishops whom he'd wished to label as concealers of child abuse, and then replace with liberal progressive leftists of his own stripe.
 
2. Archbishop Diarmuid Martin lied to the Bishops and Cardinals and the Pope when he said he accepted the decision of the meeting in Rome and stood united with the priests, Bishops and Cardinal of Ireland.
 
3. Archbishop Diarmuid Martin scuttled back to Ireland to consult with his media handlers, namely John Cooney of the Irish Independent and Patsy McGarry of The Irish Times and others.
 
4. Archbishop Diarmuid Martin informed his media handlers that the strategy to demonise and oust the Bishops had failed because Cardinal Sean Brady took a firm stand at the meeting with the Pope.
 
5. The media and whoever else is behind this ongoing conspiracy to infiltrate and destroy the Catholic Church, now shifted targets from the Bishops to Cardinal Sean Brady.
 
6. By destroying Cardinal Sean Brady, the media intended to create a situation whereby Archbishop Diarmuid Martin would be the de facto head of the Catholic Church in Ireland.
 
7. The media held fire for a week in order to put some plausible distance between their failed attempts to destroy the Irish Bishops in Rome, and their new fully planned and preprepared campaign to eliminate Cardinal Sean Brady.
 
8. The campaign to eliminate Sean Brady was coordinated and timed to coincide precisely with an international campaign to weaken Pope Benedict himself. The campaign against the Irish Cardinal and the German Pope used precisely the same methodology. Media researchers found where both prelates had worked decades ago. They then chose a separate sex abuse case that had occurred in each area where they had worked and accused them of playing a part in covering up these media selected sex abuse cases.
 
9. The strategy of using a tenuous connection to the handling of an old sex abuse case as a propaganda tool in order to slander Pope Benedict was intended to deter Pope Benedict from showing loyalty to Cardinal Sean Brady who was being slandered using exactly the same spurious manipulations. Any collateral damage to the credibility or efficacy of the Papacy itself would be a bonus. The primary target remained Cardinal Sean Brady.
 
10. The media conspirators launched a third slander campaign in Portugal, again precisely timed to coincide with the other two. The Portuguese campaign was a red herring, intended to put the public off the track of the conspirators while creating the false impression that the Catholic Church was reeling from crisis to crisis. This intention dovetailed neatly with another of the conspirators' main aims, to convince the public of the utter fiction that the primary locus of sex abuse and the main concealer of sex abuse in modern society is the Catholic Church.
 
I URGE ALL MEN AND WOMEN OF GOODWILL AND INTEGRITY TO FIGHT THIS INFERNAL CONSPIRACY AGAINST OUR ANCIENT BEAUTIFUL AND TRUE CATHOLIC FAITH

our television listings

RTE1
(A television station run by liberal anti Catholic atheists but financed through compulsory taxation on the Catholic citizenry who are themselves prevented from setting up their own television stations by Stalinist government imposed regulations. The wheel is rigged and it's the only game in town.)

1.25. Home And Away. Wild life programme.
1.55 Neighbours. Sociological study of Australians.
2.20 Eastenders. Drekk.
3..00 Fair City. Tack.
3.30 Desperate Houses. Tacky Drekk.
4.00 The Afternoon Show. Hags discuss waxing their legs.
5.40 Nuacht. Your guess is as good as mine.
6.00 The Angelus. Medieval drama. In tonight's episode Quasimodo, played by Irish Times journalist Patsy McGarry decides to form an alliance with Archbishop Diarmuid Martin and John Cooney of Independent Newspapers to undermine the Catholic Church.
6.01 News. Read by Karl Marx.
7.00 Nationwide. No one watches this.
7.30 Cloch Le Carn. Bollocks le the lot of them.
8.00 Eastenders. Events in the Queen Vic reach a climax when the entire cast and crew have Christian conversions and realise this programme and this television station is pure drekkkkkkk.
8.30 At Your Service. Ah RTE, just stop.
9.00 News. Read by Chairman Mao.
9.35 The Frontline. Religious programme featuring self adulation by Pat Kenny.
11.05 A Little Bit Showband. Music programme for masochists. Makes Eastenders look almost entertaining.
11.35 News. Read by Ho Chi Minh.
11.40 Mad Men. I don't care enough about this programme to wittily satirise it.
12.40 Eco Eye. Duncan Stewart celebrates fictional Green Party perspectives on reality. Pity the Greens aren't as fictional as that fake climate change scare they so recently engineered. And if the delusional Greens are getting their own television programmes why not have programmes dedicated to the lies told by pharmaceutical companies. You know. The ones who created the fake swine flu epidemic.
1.10 The Late Late Show. Repeat of programme from last week which no one ever watches. For all any of us knows they've been repeating the same one for the past six months. Presenter Ryan Tubridy wallows in his own unctuousness, secure in the knowledge that having been born into a dynastic kleptocratic Fianna Fail family, he is entitled to own perennial million dollar salaries in television and radio. Show me the way to the vomitorium. I think I'm going to be blecchhhhhhhhh.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

reasons for our hope

 

on stopping by ireland on a snowy evening

whose country this is i think i know
his government is in the hands of delusional atheistic liberals though
he will not see me stopping here
to watch his country fill up with muslims

the little jihadis must think it queer
for people to give up their country without a tear
between the woods and frozen lake
where backhanders are paid by human trafficking crime gangs to judges police officers and politicians

they give their detonating buttons a twitch
to make sure the suicide vests will blow without a hitch
the only others sounds the kerchick
of machine guns being loaded by islamic nazi burka clad bitches

this country is lovely ancient and cultured
but its people went to sleep a long time ago
and now it's full of muslim vultures
and now it's full of muslim vultures

tony o'reilly's letter of apology to the irish people

From: Lord Tony O'Reilly, Castlemartin, Kilcullen.
 
Dear Irish People.
For forty years my company Independent Newspapers has shamelessly attempted to destroy the Catholic Church.
We always regarded the Church as something to be laid low.
I thought 1960's style sex culture was the way to go.
I thought debauching the citizenry would make me a stack of cash.
But look at my newspapers.
Billions of dollars in the red.
Why it's as though the whole time I was hailing myself as an unrivalled success, I was merely wallowing in a mendacious self adulatory cess pool of my own making.
I sold my soul to Mephistopheles.
And all my riches, all my pleasures, all my victories were phantoms.
It's as though all the profits we declared for forty years were just accountancy tricks.
It's as though my anti Catholic newspapers only continued for so long because idiot banks were giving me free money.
Now the banks are bust.
And we are bust.
What's a boy to do.
I confess.
It's all true.
There has never been a greater fraud in Irish business life than myself and my family and my newspaper group.
During my time in charge of Independent Newspapers we have sought to enslave the Irish nation to the pleasure ethic.
We have militated constantly and mercilessly for abortion.
We have promoted the generation and destruction of life in test tubes through our advocacy of in vitro fertilisation procedures.
We have promoted the moral causality for rape and generalised sexual depravity through our celebration of atheistic hedonism.
You saw the pictures we printed of that silly little girl Katie French in her underwear sprawled across a table.
You saw how she came to believe our pornographic pictures made her a celebrity.
You saw the sort of drug taking scruff she started hanging around with.
You saw her die a cocaine addict's death.
We killed her.
We killed others.
We have ruined so many lives.
I cannot count the lives we have ruined.
We have debauched a nation.
We have manipulated the discourse so that worthy teachers and pastors were maligned.
We have championed the dictatorship of liberal scoundrels.
We have concealed child abuse, simply by not reporting 99.99 percent of it, and instead focussed on the 0.01 percent of cases involving the Catholic Church.
We have colluded with Archbishop Diarmuid Martin to undermine what is left of the Church from within.
We did all this with malign intent.
We did it to destroy.
The father of lies commanded this service of me in return for my forty years as a newspaper moghul.
But the forty years is up.
Now at the end of my life I see I have created nothing.
I have built a house of straw.
I see the demons of hell rising up to take my soul.
Don't let them take me.
No.
No.
No.
Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
Tony O'Reilly (Lord)

mary mary quite a muslim

Ireland's President Mary McAleese last week told the Turkish government that Ireland favours Turkey's accession to full membership of the European Union.
Bloody hell.
Did I miss the memo?
Clearly Mary McAleese is either deluded, insane, or Turkish.
How did Mary McAleese establish her eroneous perception of the views of Irish people?
Certainly no political party has ever stood before the electorate on a platform of bringing 70 million Turkish Muslims into the European Union.
Mary McAleese herself never so much as mentioned Turkey when she was campaigning for the office of President.
It's interesting to note that for the past few years Turkey has been governed by an Islamist government.
A government that the Turks themselves consider extremist.
So little Mary McAleese was doing a bit of reaching out to the Al Qaedas.
Ah.
Isn't she lovely.
I should point out that the Presidency in Ireland is purely a ceremonial office.
But that doesn't mean a cloth eared plush bottomed faux Catholic bint can't do a lot of damage by using the Presidency to advance views which most of us do not share.
I do not mean to be harsh on Mary McAleese.
She has a delightful sense of humour and a wonderfully girlish laugh.
Particularly when you tickle her toes with an ostrich feather.
In any case for all my Turkish readers who may have been misled by Mary McAleese's febrile maunderings, here is the news.
I do not favour Turkish accession to the European Union.
Turkey in common with the rest of the Muslim world is in the grip of a deep societal dysfunction whereby its Islamist young men believe they are somehow entitled to murder human beings at will.
Only a blinkered liberal twit like Mary McAleese could seriously contemplate inviting 70 million of them into Europe.
The Islamist dysfunction projecting itself outwards from within Muslim cultures, now threatens the entire planet.
Ireland does not favour EU accession for Turkey.
Nor does Ireland favour Muslims being permitted to smuggle themselves into our country through Jim Mansfield's airport and declare themselves citizens.
These people need to be sent home to their glorious free Muslim lands to contemplate at leisure what they have lost and why they have lost it.
Send them home.
All of them.
Now.

of lice and men

Watching the chat show host Ryan Tubridy interview a supposed priest called Father Brian Darcy on the anti Catholic channel RTE.
It is a most unedifying assemblage of talents.
Tubridy as per RTE traditions has inherited a chat show by virtue of his family being part of a political dynasty within the corrupt kleptocratic Fianna Fail party.
Father Brian Darcy is not really a Catholic priest.
Father Brian Darcy is more correctly understood as someone who for decades has written a newspaper column for The Sunday World, a publication within the anti Catholic near defunct Independent Newspapers group.
Father Brian Darcy has had no problems or moral dilemmas about accepting cash from Independent Newspapers supremo Tony O'Reilly in order to make Tony O'Reilly's most pornographic title appear to be kosher with the Catholic Church.
The Sunday World specialises in female breasts, bums, salacious gossip, sensationalist crime reporting and the occasional maudlin faux Catholic dribbling from the Sunday World employee styling himself Father Brian Darcy.
I say that The Sunday World is Tony O'Reilly's most pornographic title but this is a matter open to debate.
The charge could equally be laid at the door of The Daily Star which O'Reilly actually publishes in partnership with a fully fledged British porn baron.
The editor of The Daily Star Ger Colleran is famous for falsely, malignly and maliciously claiming on RTE that children had been abused in every Catholic Church presbytery in Ireland.
This calumny from the right hand man of a porn baron.
I kid you not.
Listening to the Sunday World journalist Brian Darcy pouring on the anti Catholic platitudes to the dynastic inheritor of chat shows Ryan Tubridy, I realised just how far our country has gotten away from us.
You know these people don't have a divine right to rule us or to sneer at our ancient, beautiful and true Catholic Church.
Defy them.
Withdraw your consent.
Join the revolution.