It's Supernun!

In a previous post we asked Sister Judy Piranha of the Nuns of Herod to explain why voting Democrat was the only reasonable possibility for an American Catholic. Now, to redress the balance, we present Supernun!

Supernun! (Real name Deirdre Byrne.)

Sr Deirdre (a.k.a. Dede) is no ordinary nun. Trained as an army surgeon, she can strangle heretics with her bare hands and kill them with a single blow - medical knowledge comes in handy! According to Wikipedia she is also a world-class distance runner, but that could be someone else.

Anyway, her super-powers include flying, X-ray vision, and laser-like eyes which can melt steel (making her stare the most piercing since Mother Angelica's). She also has breath that can freeze a Jesuit at ten paces.

The Horan of Babylon is not amused.

You can tell that Supernun is making an impact - Daniel Horan of Babylon, a well-known opponent of pro-life activities, threw a hissy fit and played the Nazi card. If his picture is anything to judge by, he has already had his hair vaporized by the piercing glare of Supernun!

Horan is also very worried about the weaponised rosary of Supernun! It seems that he doesn't mind rosaries as a fashion accessory, to go with that lovely Chanel robe he wears, but woe betide you if you use them as a way of fighting evil!

Another well-known Democrat, Fr James Martin LGBTSJ BOTA (Beast of the Apocalypse) is also throwing a wobbly at the special powers of Supernun! His argument is that religious people should not endorse politicians. Of course, he has praised Biden and attacked Trump on many occasions - he threw a memorable tantrum when Donald was elected - but nobody could possibly deduce anything about his political views from that!

But enough - in fact too much - of Jimbo the Clown.

Long live Supernun!

Coming soon, the adventures of Supermother!

Spadaro wins prestigious satire prize

Fr Antonio Spadaro SJ has been awarded the prestigious Vatican II Prize for Catholic Satire, named after the congress that spawned more parodies of Catholic teaching and liturgy than any before.

"I laughed until I cried" - emeritus Pope Benedict VI.

The hysterically funny blurb for the book makes it clear that it will be a bundle of laughs from start to finish:

[Pope Francis] has turned the Catholic Church upside-down, flung open the windows of the Vatican and purged the Augean stables of corruption, simony, nepotism and financial skulduggery. ... Where there are trouble spots in the world, he goes and invariably people say his visits change everything. ... Unlike his predecessor, he does not sit down in a room in the Vatican and write learned books. ... He likes being asked questions and finds it easy to respond. ... The Franciscan revolution is under way and in spite of his vehement critics the revolution will roll on and new horizons will be opened for the one and a half billion Catholics in the world today.

Raymond Cardinal Burke is one who agrees that Pope Francis likes being asked questions and finds it easy to respond. Another is Archbishop Viganò. Both assured me that this was not satire but a perfectly true description of the Pope's reactions to questions, whether on doctrine or on his own record.

Henry "Marcantonio Colonna" Sire, on the other hand, merely commented "This satricial book makes Eccles's blog look like Holy Writ in comparision."

Cardinal "Foxy" Napier was highly commended for comparing Francis to Jesus.

Previous winners of the satire prize include Austen Ivereigh, for his biography Pope Francis, the great Redeemer, Fr James Martin SJ for his wonderful works explaining that homosexual relationships were best conducted on bridges, and Prof. Tina Beattie for her book comparing the Mass to an act of homosexual intercourse (a theme now taken up by Fr Rosica).

A good try, Rosie, but this is just unhinged, rather than proper satire.

Satire about Pope Francis is nowadays as common as heresy from a Jesuit, but Spadaro's book goes further than any before, explaining how the Holy Father can walk on water, travel in time, leap high buildings, cure diseases simply by touching people, slay dragons, glow in the dark, and turn people to stone merely by staring at them.

Very cruel satire on Pope Francis.

Anyway, the final word must go to Fr Spadaro himself. "I am delighted that my book has won this prestigious Vatican II Prize," he said. "The first thing I shall do is to hold a wild celebration party with some of my closest friends."

"Let's get legless!"

The Vatican deploys its secret weapon

Over now to the Vatican, where the pope's advisers are struggling with a deluge of demands for clear teaching and an end to fudging. Their energies are spent in fending off polite requests of the form "What exactly is going on down there?"

Greg Burke of the Holy See press office enters, and asks vice-pope Antonio Spadaro for the latest news.

Spadaro explains that he is at his wits' end - they've tried silence, insults, and even threats, but nothing seems to work. The Holy Father is ready to "go nuclear" and excommunicate the whole Catholic Church, if nobody can find a way to resolve the Amoris Laetitia crisis. All solutions are welcome, short of actually giving the answers to the five dubia.

Increasingly many Catholics are wearing this shirt at Mass. Stop it!

"Does the Holy Father have any new wisdom for us today?" asks Greg Burke.

"He's been leaking extracts from his new encyclical De Coprophagia, as well as an apostolic exhortation on clerical hats, but this doesn't seem to be doing the trick."

Get thee behind me, Saturno! Who would have thought that a simple hat was so evil?

"Then there's only one thing to do."

"You mean...?"

"Send for Ivereighman!"

Yes, mild-mannered journalist Austen Powers Ivereigh, known to most people as the "Mr Big" behind Catholic Voices, has a secret life as a super-hero. All he has to do is rush into a Confessional to change his costume, and he becomes unrecognizable!

When he takes his glasses off, Austen becomes Ivereighman!

With cries of Dissent! Roma tacita, causa finita! (Rome has kept quiet, so the cause is ended.) Move on! Nothing to see here! We have ways of making you love Pope Francis! Ivereighman sweeps down from the Ivereigh Tower, and scatters the pope's friends and enemies alike.

Golly, it's exciting when a mild-mannered newspaperman turn out to be a superhero! But even though Martin "Lex" Luthor is no longer considered to be the main villain, there's still a dreadful rumour that Cardinal Burke has reopened the disused Kryptonite mines on Malta, and will strike back...

Pope puts world on journalism alert

Police worldwide have declared a state of red alert, after Pope Francis, in an audience with, er, Italian journalists, decided to charm them by telling them that journalism based on rumours and fear is terrorism.

Fr Rosica explains that he never spreads gossip, rumours, or indeed interesting news.

Apparently, there is a genuine danger than innocent members of the public will be assailed by journalists, who after uttering a fanatical cry such as "Daily Telegraph!" or "Spectator!", will proceed to ask them what they think Amoris Laetitia means, and whether they think Pope Francis is about to abdicate in favour of Cardinal Tagle. Said Inspector Vincent "Vin of the Yard" Nichols, "If you suspect that someone may be a journalist, do not approach them directly, but keep your distance and dial 999. Our anti-journalism squad will do the rest."

Madeleine Teahan of the Catholic Herald. Wanted for gossiping about the Pope's pizza-addiction.

Said Anjem Choudary, the radical cleric sentenced for supporting ISIS, "These journalists make me sick. Take Damian Thompson, for instance. Rather than going out and slaughtering a few people in a train, like an honest man, he makes snide remarks about my hairstyle and my love of custard. No wonder the Ecclestone Square boys can't stand him."

Superman also has a secret identity as a Tablet journalist. Don't tell the Pope.

"Rumours and fear" is of course a direct reference to the reception given to most of the Pope's recent pronouncements. Did he really say THAT? Is he trying to change Catholic doctrine? Was he misquoted? Why can't he give a straight answer to a straight question? Be afraid... be very afraid.

What is a traditionalist?

The often-excellent Fr Dwight Longenecker has recently got himself into a bit of a pickle over a post Traditionalists Reject Divine Mercy, which in its original version appeared to give the impression that all Catholics calling themselves traditionalists believe exactly the same thing. In fact, pace* Fr Dwight, there are at least three sub-species of traditionalist, and here is a short guide.

* traddy Latin expression meaning "with peace", here meaning "with due deference to".

Pope Pius I (2nd century A.D.). Accepted by most trads.

Traditionalistus Sedevacantus. These are the extreme trads, who do not accept any pope since Pius XII (or Pius X, or possibly Pius V; one of the Pii, anyway) as being legitimate. They have severe reservations about the "modernistic" Tridentine Mass, preferring the Sarum Rite, although some prefer to celebrate the Whitby Rite dating from A.D. 664, in which "Yorkshire" Latin (lingua ebagumsis) was recommended. Some theories you may hear from T.S. include the notion that Pope St John XXIII was replaced by the demon Telbat, just before he summoned Vatican II, and that the next Pope - "who will come from a Minster to the West" - will be the last before the final Armageddon, the great battle between Conservatism and Liberalism.

Archbishop Lefebvre looks on in horror as a giant puppet walks up the aisle.

Traditionalistus Nonvaticanduensis. Next on the scale we have a variety of traditionalists who reject parts of Vatican II. Bishop Fellay, the head of SSPX, has said that his team accepts 95% of the teachings of Vatican II, which is not a bad score: an A* grade, surely? Of course nobody has ever read all the Vatican II documents (739 pages of fine print, as contrasted with 42 for Vatican I and 179 for Trent), although we are all waiting for the movie, which will star Stephen Fry as Hans Küng and Kermit the Frog as Basil Loftus. The documents have titles such as Decree concerning the sacred pastoral dogmatic constitution on the apostolate of the renewal of priestly mission through the divine ministry of the ecumenical activity of social communication with the laity, which roughly means Kick-starting our priests.

T.N. will of course only attend a Latin Mass, regarding the Novus Ordo as - at best - inferior, and - at worst - invalid. Although they accept that Pope Francis is the legitimate pope, they tend to dislike him so much that he might easily be the Beast of the Apocalypse in a white suit.

Flamenco dancing in church? At my age?

Traditionalistus Orthodoxus. These are the most numerous, and in fact tend to be totally orthodox Catholics who see no point in changing things just for the sake of change. They may well prefer the traditional Latin Mass for its universality, purity and beauty (enabling them to focus on God rather than worrying about whether they will catch a loathsome disease from young Ernie Grotchet in the Kiss of Peace); still, they accept that the Novus Ordo is a totally valid way of worshipping.

They have no particular quarrel with Vatican II itself (after all, if you look closely, you find that it stressed the importance of Latin). However, they go for the "hermeneutic of continuity" approach, and therefore believe that the so-called Spirit of Vatican II - motto "Anything Goes" - is just a snare and a delusion leading to liturgical dancing, clown masses and banal hymns such as Shine, Jesus, Shine. Often, they prefer Pope Benedict XVI's approach rather than Pope Francis's, but they console themselves with the thought that the Holy Spirit never promised that all popes would be supermen.

Not Pope Francis... or is he?

One could go on, with an analysis of watered-down Catholicism: does a fondness for Walk in the Light mean that you automatically subscribe to the weird views of Tina Beattie? If necessary, we can advise you.

A Lattin Mass

Anti Moly and me we is still stayin wiv Damain Thopmson, who is a really luvvly man. But on Satturday mornin I woke up in my bed in Castle Thopmson to find a pink horse's head in it, which I is fiarly sure wasn't dere de night before.

I summoned Will Heaven de butler, who shimmered in wiv a tray contianing a glass of milk for me and a hair-restorrer and gin cocktail for Anti Moly, what sleeps in de next room. "I sees dat Sir has been contacted by de Gay Maffia," explaned Mr Heaven. "Dey is very poppular in de Cathlic churhc nowaddays, especailly in de Plymouth diocese. No duobt dey is invitin you to go to de Church of de Assumption and St Gregory in Soho for a gay Mass. Dis may be an offer you can't refuse. Play your cards rihgt and Vincent Nichols will give you de kiss of peace."

Damain, howevver, had uvver plans, and on Sunday we trailed into de London Horrortree. I had planned to wear a togga, as dey say dat when in Rome you gotta do what de Romans do, but Damain said it wasnt usaully done. He hisself wasnt wearing a togga, just his superman costume. In de week he is mild-mannered Damain Thopmson, but at weekends he is like a blood-crazed ferret.

Anti Moly disgraced herself almost immediately. "Why has dat woeful priest got his back to us?" she screeched. "Aint dat typical traddy Cathlic rudeness?" Damain explaned in hushed tones dat traddy preists doesnt like to look at de congreggatoin, especailly when Anti Moly is among dem, as it makes dem feel ill.

De preist was wearing a beretta, which he took off to make annuoncements, e.g. "Will you keep dat old bat quiet please, Dr Thopmson?"

After a while, I got fed up, cos I didn't understand wot was goin on, so when de preist puased for breath, I stood up and sang "I am de Lord of de Dance, said He," which is a famuous hynm about Jessus dancin wot we sings in de Calumny Chappel. Anti Moly had been drinkin Damain's hair-restorrer since 8 a.m. and she jioned in de Dance wiv me.

But apparently in de Lattin litturgy, dis is not what dey does, so I got one or two funny looks from de traddies. Sometimes deys sings de Gregorrian chant, "Ego Dominus saltationis sum, dixit," but dat's all.

After de Mass we went back to Castle Thopmson, where Muvver Odone, de cook, was doin us raviolli for lunch. She alternates between passta and piza, she aint got much imaginatoin. After all dat dancin, Anti Moly said she was so hungry she could eat a horse, and so I left her chewin her way frew de pink one I was givven.