He Corrupted Generations -McCarrick was Satan’s Pawn

“He corrupted generations of seminarians and priests.”

These words, found in the midst of Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano’s first “Testimony” of August 2018, though perhaps only glanced by many and glossed over by others, caught my attention and have remained locked in my mind ever since.

Vigano was, of course, referring to the now-disgraced former cardinal Theodore McCarrick.  He spoke these words to the Roman Pontiff, Francis, during a meeting between the two in 2013.  Francis had asked what Vigano “thought of McCarrick”.

I’ve been thinking of these words a lot lately.  As a writer I am at a loss.  Words usually come flowing from my brain and onto the page as naturally as beautiful notes would pour forth from the mouth of Sarah Vaughan.  When I have a hard time describing what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling then I find myself at a complete standstill.  It is one of the reasons I have not posted much of late.  Yet I find it incumbent upon myself to at least try to unlock this brain of mine for two reasons.  The first is that so many of you have been such a blessed source of comfort and refuge as I have shared a story I did not think I would ever have the will to share.  I appreciate that more than you know.  Second, if I don’t clear the lines out then it will be hard to move forward.  Be forewarned.  This might come out all garbled but come out it must.

Prior to June if anyone had asked me my thoughts on McCarrick I would have shared fond memories of a man who was truly like a father to me.  Every single story I have shared thus far about him had a different meaning to me.  I would occasionally come across his picture in an old prayer book and smile and think about the man who preached in so eloquent a manner – gentle, unassuming, at home with Leona Helmsley and equally with Joe the Barber on Clifton Avenue in the North Ward of Newark.  He loved us, so we thought, and we loved him because he knew us.  He came to the parishes.  He met with his flock.  He invited young men to consider the priesthood when no one else ever did.  He invited me to consider the priesthood and I had never given it a second thought before.  Was he a little too wishy-washy on some areas where politics intersected with the Church?  To be sure.  But we took that as a man trying his best to navigate the difficult terrain of life as bishop to the nation’s capital.

Then came the morning of June 20, 2018.

I awoke that morning to a text from my sister.

“Did you hear about McCarrick?” she asked.

“No.  Did he die?”

“Worse…” she replied.  “I’m sick.”

In the following days, coming to learn the exact nature of who this man really was, I was sickened as well. This was no father.  This was a monster.  He corrupted generations of priests and seminarians.  No words could describe him better.

In the months following the 9-11 attacks I would close my eyes at night as I fell asleep.  Within moments I was awake again because the vivid image of the South Tower exploding in flame kept playing in my head.


Pieta – St. Thomas Aquinas Church, Dallas

Something similar has happened here.  Every time I see a picture of McCarrick in a Facebook feed or an article about his crimes my stomach turns.  I have to scroll past.  Looking at his face, to me, is like looking into the heart of Satan.  I think of the men who’s lives he destroyed and I think of how he very nearly destroyed mine but for the simple fact that I have a nicotine habit.  I think of how every one of those stories I mentioned suddenly had different meaning to me.  I think of how a man who was like a father was really a lying fraud.  No father treats his children like that.  My father treated us with love and kindness and he gave his life for us.  This scumbag used everyone in his path for his own evil plans.

My wife remarked recently that everything I’d ever told her about him now sounds so ominous and sinister.  That’s because it is.

I’ve remarked many times in this blog that interesting things happen to me; that sometimes the bizarre just unfolds in front of my eyes as if God wants me to chronicle the most unusual events in life because no one would believe they took place otherwise.  How’s this for a laugh?  Turns out I knew the most evil cardinal the Catholic Church elevated in 500 years and I didn’t even know it!

I take no delight in writing about him though.  It hurts.  It is painful watching what this man has done.  The Church – the Body of Christ, and yes I still believe that with everything I’ve got – is fracturing and splintering before our eyes, the crumbling of Her walls hastened by the sledgehammer McCarrick and the generations of men he corrupted.  He ordained hundreds of priests and dozens of bishops.  Many more bishops, like his successor Joe Tobin the current Archbishop of Newark (and a cardinal to boot), owe their position to his direct influence and so his presence still looms large.  He has not repented, not apologized and he likely never will.  He is still an archbishop.  Men he abused, meanwhile, have carried their scars for decades.

In corrupting these generations of priests and seminarians he unleashed on the Church a festering rot that has spread decay everywhere.  Satan couldn’t have planned this better himself.  Those of us sitting in the pews scratch our heads and wonder if his evil can be undone.  There are too many of them and too few of us.  We cling to the virtue of hope that Christ’s promise will stand and the gates of hell will never prevail against His Church.

And this week the American bishops meet as they do every November to discuss policy and hold elections for their major offices.  You can be sure that almost every one of them knew the score when it came to McCarrick and that there are other McCarrick’s among their ranks.  They hide behind lawyers and guards.  How many of them were corrupted by him?  When will Christ cleanse His Church?  What more can we do?


Blocked by a Bishop: Wherein I Let You Know What I REALLY Think of Bishop Stika


The current ordinary (that’s the bishop) of Knoxville, TN is a man named Stika.  That’s his last name.  You see, he goes by “Rick”.  Don’t get me started.  My late father was a Richard who, from the time of his youth (born in 1936) went by “Dick”.  He used to tell me to be wary of any grown man calling himself “Rick”.  I mean no disrespect to the grown Rick’s of the world; just relaying the words of my dad.

A few months ago Bishop Rick posted something on Twitter that I found repulsive and, to tell the truth, borderline sinful.  In reference to why Catholics should pay no heed to Michael Voris, the online broadcaster of Church Militant fame, Stika cited as evidence Voris’ “past”.  How very coy of the good bishop.  He raised an accusation without specifically citing it in order to drive people to search for those specifics.

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The Body of Our Lord Taken Down from the Cross, St. Thomas Aquinas Church, Dallas

Anyone who’s followed events in the Church over the past few years can tell you all about Mr. Voris.  This “past” of which Stika speaks is something to which Voris publicly admitted in one of his own broadcasts.  He lead a sinful and debauched life throughout much of his youth.  He had fallen away from the Church and, by the grace of God and through the prayers of his mother, he returned, made a full confession, and re-dedicated his life to spreading the Gospel.  Specifically, he admits to having been involved in several homosexual relationships in his past.  As far as I’m concerned this is not only something that can remain in the past but also something Mr. Voris has no need to ever revisit again.  Like all faithful Catholics I rejoice in the renunciation of sin and the conversion of the sinne.

Stika presented this “past” in a salacious and titillating way as if to whisper “Don’t listen to Voris.  He used to be gay, you know.”

How repulsive of a shepherd of the Church to call out the previous confessed sins of a fellow Catholic for any reason.  But to discredit the man?

I was iridescent with anger at that tweet and I called him out on it.

And he promptly showed me the famous mercy and accompaniment so common in the era of Francis by blocking me.  Me!  I’m a blogger who sometimes reaches hundreds (not thousands, nor millions) of readers when I choose to post which, owing to my primary vocation as a husband and father trying to raise a few saints-in-progress, isn’t nearly as often as I’d like.  The man blocked little old me.

To that I say: “Coward!”  I’d say it on his page but, you know…

“If you’re going to hang out in the ghettos of the internet you need to expect to get a little banged up.”

Tonight I happened to stumble upon the good bishop’s Twitter feed without realizing that I was not logged in to Twitter on my browser.  What a treat!  I got to see his tweets again!  I’m so happy I could die.

What I’m actually happy about is the fact that I haven’t had to read the tripe that passes for a father’s love and concern for his children in the wise, 140 character instructions of Bishop Rick.

I perused just far enough to stumble through a string of tweets on gun control.  Here’s my favorite.

I wanted to reply: “Just because you carry a crozier and are trained to offer mass doesn’t mean you are possessed of towering intellect or personal holiness.  Many priests carry the burden of terrible bishops all their lives.  Many more faithful have to deal with your endless appeals for cash while you offer corporate apologies for allowing fellow bishops to rape seminarians in the name of dignity.”

I think that’s over 140 characters so I probably couldn’t post it.  That and he blocked me.

Here’s another gem…

The teacher in me wanted to have a field day with this. Let’s start with the to/too problems in the second AND third lines.  And how about that fragment at the end? Also, it’s a pretty stupid sentiment.

And another thing, Excellencies (for here I’m addressing the whole lot of the bishops who think it’s OK to insult folks like me); I AM a lawful gun owner.  I have been trained to shoot.  I shoot damn well.  I take target practice and every time I walk UNARMED into my house of worship on Sunday morning (following your dictates that I leave my piece at home) I fear for the safety of my family because there is EVIL in the world.  I’m a man.  I have this funny drive to protect my loved ones.  I am not, as Cardinal Farrell stated in an opinion piece a few years ago, a “vigilante”.  How dare any of you judge me for doing what I was called to do in the protection of my wife and children?  And how dare you assume I’m a criminal when I’ve never broken a single law?

Then again, I’ve been operating under the assumption that most of you are guilty as hell in your complicity in the McCarrick mess and the general state of the Church’s decline over the last few decades.

Bishop Rick, here’s some friendly advice I offered to your buddy Cardinal Joe Tobin recently.  If you’re going to hang out in the ghettos of the internet you need to expect to get a little banged up.  Blocking guys like me isn’t going to get you anywhere.  But at least there’s a possibility Tobin’s seen my advice.  He hasn’t blocked me.  Yet…

On Reporting Truth to Power: George Neumayr, the McCarrick Mess, and Where Is Everybody?

A friend who is a priest recently wrote me. I had shared an article by George Neumayr on my socials. This friend laid out a very thoughtful rebuke of this particular article. In short, he felt that the article – detailing Neumayr’s investigation into Cardinal Tobin of Newark and the potential object of his “mis-sent” “Nighty Night Baby” tweet – and Neumayr’s conclusions were simply implausible. I won’t detail where our conversation ultimate went for reasons of confidentiality.

However, the exchange got me thinking about something I’ve been saying for a month or more. Neumayr appears to be the only journalist in the world seeking answers to questions any journalist should be asking regarding the crisis in the Church. If you don’t know, Neumayr is an editor of The American Spectator who also does investigative reporting on this current mess. He is fearless, fair, and frank.

Look, I worked in news. I have a good sense of what’s what. I am a writer and I appreciate his style. As a Catholic who lived through McCarrick I greatly appreciate the work Neumayr is doing because I want to know the truth.

As I explained to my friend, a few months ago I don’t think any of us would have believed the things we now know to be true about our hierarchy.

My gut (and my head informed by experience) are guiding me in discerning all that is being reported and I find George’s reporting to be accurate.

I currently work as a courier while I take a brief break from the world of educational administration. Today I got slammed with work (not a bad thing). I live in the DFW area and got a midday call for a drive to east Texas. Five hours later I returned to the office where I was given my next job – an overnight drive to west Texas. Here I sit in the parking lot of American Airlines Priority Parcel Service facility at DFW Airport waiting for the place to open so I can tender this medical shipment and head home.

It is almost 4:30 AM.

The good news in all of this is that I finally got the chance to listen (on Audible) to all of Neumayr’s book The Political Pope. If you have not read it and are dying to know about the motivation behind Francis’ actions then check it out. The book is well sourced, well written, and a real eye-opener. Even I, who did not think I could be shocked by much of anything the current Bishop of Rome has done found myself shouting out “WHAT?!” more than once while driving through a driving rain in the dark on a west Texas interstate.

Trust me, it’s so much better than the AM band in the middle of nowhere.

The only thing I need to add is this plea to the author.

Mr. Neumayr, please consider me for voice talent on your next audio book. Not only have I worked in the field doing announcements for a local station in Florida (the wonders of MP3’s and a solid internet connection) but I possess a solid, smooth, and sure set of pipes.

Also, I wouldn’t repeatedly mispronounce the name of my friend and fellow Christendom College alum Mike Hichborn. 😎

And to my readers, once you’ve listened to or read the book or even and especially before you do, go make a donation to Neumayr’s journalism fund so he can keep doing his good work.

Pray for the Church.

When Everything Goes Awry

Until recently this blog was all about my life as a dad in a Catholic household with a beautiful wife and two young kids (and an ill-tempered terrier).  As the need arises, and as my life wends on the path of inexorability, I also write about other things such as politics and the current crisis in the Church as they are places intersected by the life I lead.  In these instances it seems, rather, that God has steered the life I attempt to live into the paths of several oncoming trains that either inhabit that world (to my chagrin) or that I encountered (and that I disembarked) decades ago.

Confused?  Yeah, me too.  Stick with me.

Basically, tonight I just want to write about my life tonight.  It’s not glamorous but it’s mine and I kind of like it.  And to those of you who have started following because of the other recent topics I ask that you read this too and let me know if you like it.  And I thank you for your patronage.

Many of you know that I currently work full-time as a medical courier.  It’s what I’m doing at the moment.  After leaving the seminary I had a brief career as a television producer.  Then I entered the world of teaching and thought that would be my life.  I didn’t choose teaching, rather it chose me as they say.  After fighting it for a couple of years I gave up and realized that I 1) was good at it and 2) liked it.  A lot.  It was always about the kids.  They were wonderful and I was blessed to be part of their lives.  Then I moved into school administration.  Unfortunately right out of the gate I encountered a toxic work environment and, never having quit a job in my life, resigned that position.  God, in His providence, provided a job for me where I never had even a day-long gap in my employment.

I enjoy doing this but I know it’s not long-term.  And the devil (he’s real, you know) gets to me every now and then.  He’s constantly reminding me of my insecurities.  I look around and see all my friends successful, happy, and making lots of money.  Me?  Well one out of three ain’t bad.  See, the devil knows I want success and who couldn’t be happy being able to say he earns a good salary?  I have to keep reminding myself that I chose this career path by my actions and that God will again provide a path.  Right now I can’t decide if I should return to teaching, go after administration again, or try to make a go with a job in writing or marketing.  When I think about it I have a solid skillset.  I just haven’t had to look for work outside of a classroom in so long that I don’t know quite what I’m doing.  It’s humbling to admit that but I can do it.  I’d love to know that I could find something easily and walk into a job making at least what I was making as a teaching (which, believe it or not, wasn’t that bad).  Time will tell if I end up a mental case or land that job.  Prayers are always appreciated.

But here’s what happened in my current job tonight…

I typically work on-call from 4PM until midnight.  This makes it hard to spend time with the kids but I make every sacrifice I can.  It also makes it hard to visit much with my wife but I try.  It does afford me plenty of time to pray – the rosary and/or a series of Memorare’s and litany of the saints are a common theme in my car.  Actually the past few months have been quiet in this field.  Today, however, the DFW area was slammed with torrential rains.  When your job involves tendering and recovering sensitive medical parcels from a major airport, rain can spell disaster.  Lightning threats close the “ramp” which means nothing moves and you get stuck waiting in the cargo facility for hours.  Packages get left by the airline crews in puddles requiring repackaging and more dry ice which means extra travel and time.

Around 9PM tonight I got a call that a package needed to be recovered, opened, and photographed.  There was a question about how much dry ice was on hand.  This meant waiting for a termination letter to be faxed to the cargo office.  And that took over an hour.  To give you an idea how the weather affected everyone’s day, at one point in my night at cargo one of the workers slammed down his phone and shouted “Dammit, they lost that dog we were looking for!”  They ship animals, you know, and the animals take priority over just about anything else.  Then he added “It’s a service dog!”

Think about that.

They lost a service dog.

I immediately doubled over in laughter along with the other five people in the building.  Losing a service dog means that said service dog had to have been forcibly separated from his master who, presumably, needed his assistance to board the plane.  Also, service animals are allowed by law to fly in the cabin, not the hold.  Somebody screwed up big time.  And how did the passenger deplane?  Perhaps some other passenger lent him a therapy peacock to guide the way.

The other thing that really shot my night to hell was the realization that I would not be able to work out tonight.  As mentioned, most nights have been slow lately.  I’ve taken to scheduling my time at the gym around 9PM.  I work out with a buddy of mine.  Weightlifting has really become a passion of mine and I’m making incredibly progress.  I benched 190 the other night and not just a max rep but three sets of 6-8.  I’m impressed even if no one else is.  It’s become such a thing for me that I get pissed when my gym time gets scuttled.

As I was moping to myself about not lifting I glanced down at the scale where packages get weighed and got an idea.


That’s right, there, right on the side of the scale were two 30 lb. weights used to calibrate the scale.  Didn’t take me long before I was using them as kettlebells.  A few sets completed and I jumped in whole hog.  By the time I was on the floor doing sets of push-ups the cargo manager instructed me to stop because it was late and I was making them feel “lazy” and “gross”.  OK, so not a complete workout but anything is better than nothing.  Good thing I didn’t bust out the jumprope.  And I guess that’s something I can be thankful for during this time of uncertainty; and that is that I’ve finally gotten myself in the kind of shape I’ve always wanted to be in.  It’s taken time but I’m pleased with my results.  And I’m happy to be enjoying good health right now.  So, praised be to God, right?

As I drove home from the airport at 11:30 thinking of all these things and wondering what the next step for me will be I remembered to say a few more prayers.  Can’t hurt, right?  And I ask each of you reading this to say one or two for me as well.  In the meantime I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing – being a dad in a Catholic household with a beautiful wife, two young kids, and an ill-tempered terrier.  And I will be loving it all.

*I’ve got a few more McCarrick/seminary stories left to post.  Stay tuned and as always…

Pray for the Church.

And please continue to read and to share my blog.  I don’t get paid to write but it is gratifying to know that people think enough of my work to recommend it to a friend.

I Am the Man Who Propelled Cory Booker to Prominence and I Apologize to Judge Kavanaugh

Changing gears for a moment from my “coverage” of the current crisis in the Church (Joe Tobin, I thought I asked you repeatedly to resign) to the world of politics.  For I am, as I have always maintained, the most interesting and well-connected man you’ve never heard of who also lacks connections.

Watching the confirmation hearings of Judge Brett Kavanaugh last week I was struck by the arrogance of a man I have come to loathe.  That man is New Jersey’s junior senator Cory Booker.

Booker grandstanded against the honorable Kavanaugh about his high school beer drinking and alleged sexual assault of a woman who cannot recall a single detail of said assault with certainty.  In fact, one of the biggest laughs during her testimony came when she stated that the “beach people” urged her to report the incident to the media.  After I used the same line in a Facebook post yesterday – “The beach people have instructed me to lift weights without a spotter” – a friend commented that I should probably stop using drugs on the beach.

But let’s circle back to the sanctimonious Booker for a moment.  I grew up in the city of Newark, NJ.  I followed politics very closely then as I do now.  For twenty years the city was governed by a man named Sharpe James.  Seriously.  Sharpe went on to serve time for corruption and it all appears to have been true.  He had his faults but he was a Newark kid who knew that all politics is local.  In 2002 James faced his first serious opposition in the young upstart Booker.  Booker hailed from one of the wealthiest (and whitest) parts of the state, Harrington Park, in Bergen County.  He rode into town as though he was a native.  That didn’t sit well with too many Brick City folk and he lost.  But he also had a film crew follow him for a documentary called Street Fight or Street Fighter or some such nonsense.

Four years later Booker won the mayor’s office and quickly proved that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

Remember the whole “all politics is local” thing?  Sharpe James knew enough to keep the streets plowed.  Booker didn’t.

bookerIn late December 2010 I was living in Northern Virginia when my sister texted me that her street still hadn’t been plowed two days after a major storm.  She needed diapers for her young son.  Through a series of tweets from my end, Cory Booker magically materialized at her door with diapers.  She took a picture of the two of them and I tweeted that too.  That night the picture and the story were on cable news, thanks in no small part to Booker’s PR people I am sure.

I wrote about my experience here.

In the original post I praised Booker as “awesome” more because he had mastered a new social media tool to communicate with constituents.  And yet I carefully pointed out that had he deployed a single plow it never would have come to that.

But I wasn’t the only one writing.

Many New York based outlets called me up and asked for interviews which I generously provided.  One source, the New York Post, actually got around to interviewing my sister.

You can read that account here.

The worst part of it is that no one outside of the Garden State had any real knowledge of Cory the Interloper until that picture went viral.  In so many ways I feel responsible for unleashing the guy on the national stage.  No tweet, no diapers.  No diapers, no photo-op.  No photo-op, no glowing press.  No glowing press, no rise to national prominence and a seat in the Senate.

“He’s a very nice man, but he isn’t a good mayor,” she added. “If he would have done his job, I would have been able to do for myself and gone out. It took three days for someone to come by with a plow the first time.” – My sister to the NY Post

And that’s where he sits today.  A man who admits in his own writings that he molested a drunk teenage girl when he was younger has the balls to sit in judgment of a man of Brett Kavanaugh’s character.

President Trump, in remarks about the Kavanaugh hearings earlier today, referred to Booker having “run Newark, NJ into the ground”.  Near as I can tell, Trump is right.  And again, this man dares to question the high school drinking of Judge Kavanaugh.

A few weeks ago Booker, eager to generate more headlines from a fawning mainstream media, had his “I am Spartacus” moment.  Buddy, you wouldn’t know Spartacus from a parking attendant at the Paramus Park Mall.  You are the furthest thing from genuine.  You were an inept mayor.  You’re a grandstanding senator of no consequence.

But next time you’re stuck in a socialist hell where YOUR streets don’t get plowed send me a tweet.  I’ll see if I can wrangle up some Depends for your sorry ass.

The Evil Former Cardinal in the Friary

At the blog OnePeterFive there’s an interesting piece.

It tells us where the former cardinal Uncle Ted McCarrick has landed.

Check out the article here.

In the meantime, can I just say how sick I am of this crap?  Theodore McCarrick has got to be one of the most evil men ever to rise the ranks of the Catholic episcopacy.  We know of his disgusting crimes and the horrifying effects his evil actions have had on the lives of so many men.  He has never publicly apologized for any of it.  The pope orders him to a life of “prayer and penance” and he moves into a mansion in a tony neighborhood of DC with a housekeeping staff.  Real penitential stuff.  The intrepid George Neumayr did the work every journalist should be doing (but isn’t) and tracks him down, demanding answers from the current archbishop, Cardinal Wuerl.  As payment for his efforts, George gets tailed by Wuerl’s hired goons, forbidden from worshipping at the Basilica of the National Shrine, and had his life turned upside down.

Where does McCarrick go?

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Close, no?

A friary.  But not just any friary, friends.  Archbishop Scuzzbucket (still not defrocked by Rome) finds himself literally on the doorstep of an elementary school!  A big WTF to all who were involved in this brilliant move.

And would anyone have made public mention of Uncle Ted’s whereabouts?  No.  We only get a press release from the Archdiocese of Washington when locals in Kansas reported having seen McCarrick on the grounds of the friary.

Pray for the Church.

And please consider donating to Neumayr’s GoFundMe.  I wish other reporters had his guts.

Vigano Speaks Again!

Archibishop Carlo Maria Vigano, former Apostolic Nuncio to the US, has just released a new testament following his earlier 11 page account that rocked the Catholic world.

Read it here.

A sample:

My decision to reveal those grave facts was for me the most painful and serious decision that I have ever made in my life. I made it after long reflection and prayer, during months of profound suffering and anguish, during a crescendo of continual news of terrible events, with thousands of innocent victims destroyed and the vocations and lives of young priests and religious disturbed. The silence of the pastors who could have provided a remedy and prevented new victims became increasingly indefensible, a devastating crime for the Church. Well aware of the enormous consequences that my testimony could have, because what I was about to reveal involved the successor of Peter himself, I nonetheless chose to speak in order to protect the Church, and I declare with a clear conscience before God that my testimony is true. Christ died for the Church, and Peter, Servus servorum Dei, is the first one called to serve the spouse of Christ.

The man speaks the truth.

I was one of those vocations destroyed.  And since God uses even sorrow and agony to bring about new life I have been blessed with an even more incredible life than I could have imagined in the persons of my wife and children and the thousands of young people to whom I have taught the Catholic faith over the years.

But McCarrick, Wuerl, even and especially Francis have so much to answer for…