In a well-conceived plan to increase ‘Puter’s recently controlled blood pressure (thanks, HCTZ and lisinopril!) to the danger zone (‘Puter loves Top Gun), Your Volgi sends along this link regarding a hippie Catholic priest and his twist on the Rite of Blessing and Sprinkling Holy Water (Asperges).

Before commenting on the link, and in a vain attempt to decrease his sky-high blood pressure, ‘Puter would like to comment on the Volgi/‘Puter dustup of last week. Volgi is one hundred percent (100%) correct on the Church’s teaching. ‘Puter handled the issue a bit too blithely and did not mean to assert otherwise. However, the larger point that ‘Puter attempted to make (and failed miserably in doing) is that the Church needs to pick its public fights carefully. ‘Puter used the story as a jumping off point, and was careless in so doing, as the facts do not support ‘Puter’s larger point. ‘Puter thinks that publicly confronting politicians over these matters is a decision that has significant consequences, and should (1) be carefully thought out before hand and (2) come directly from the bishop or higher. Volgi is correct that the Church ought vigorously defend its teachings; ‘Puter was simply arguing the method.

Now, back to Father McBlasphemy. What serious priest could possibly think that filling a super soaker water gun with Holy Water, then showering the entire congregation with the aforementioned super soaker was a good idea? Unfortunately, many Catholics are now all too familiar with such priests. They’re servicing as pastors in our parishes.

These sort of sacreligious shenanigans are the direct result of several trends in the Church during ‘Puter’s lifetime. First, American bishops became decidedly more liberal post Vatican II, taking a more hands off approach to their job as defenders of the faith. Second, as a result of the first trend, seminaries became hotbeds of wacky Catholic thought and experimentation (e.g., liberation theology a/k/a Catholic Marxism), resulting in arguably the most liberal cohort of priests ever. Third, and as a natural outflow of the first two trends, American Catholics have been poorly catechized and far too dismissive of Church teaching and tradition. Many of us have become cafeteria Catholics, picking the ideas we like (“Social justice is, like, soooooooo bitchin’, Father Hippie. Let’s have a drum circle at Mass!”) and leaving the difficult ones on the buffet (e.g., consistent ethic of life).

This priest should be publicly censured for his profaning of one of our rites, forced to apologize to his parish and removed from his parish for extended retraining. It’ll never happen.

'Puter

Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.

’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.

The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.

His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.

He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.

Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.

‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.