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Friday 8 November 2013

Fascinating-A Moment of Marxism in St. Louis

Worth reading and thinking about....if there are holes, the Marxists will fill them up.

Pay attention. Well, there still is a lot of communism in Illinois.

God Makes New Doughnuts Everyday Part Three

Well, Dear Readers, I am in Chicago, Illinois. Nice to see colored leaves and trees.

Do not ask me why I am here, as I do not know yet.

Will give updates.

And, by the way, a pink sprinkle doughnut cost 2.50 Euros in the Malta International Airport, which is a great airport.

But, doughnuts are pricey there!

An Americano Coffee, my favorite, which is espresso with hot water added, also costs 2.50 Euros.

So, for a coffee and a doughnut at the Luqa Airport, an American pays $6.68. Skipped the coffee at O'Hare.


Not news....

A small but powerful gift

Today, I briefly met a monk-priest from Mt. Athos. He gave me a prayer bracelet, called the Komboskini 

Mine does not have a cross. But, what a treat.

Here is the story of this bracelet,  from
These bracelets come with a great story that people just love. Here’s how the story goes. A very very long time ago there was a monk that was amongst the first to wander into the desert to spread the word of the Lord. This monk came up with the idea to use a rope to count his prayers. For every prayer he recited he made a knot.
Everything was just fine until one day during his prayer he got a vision of the Devil, which threw the monk out of concentration. The monk was surprised to see that the knots he made were mysteriously untied.
The monk tried to pray again, but everytime he got the same vision with the same result. But the brave monk was not to give up so easily. He kept on trying, but every passing day it got worse, the poor monk got very exhausted and it seemed the Devil would have his victory.
Thankfully Archangel Gabriel came to the rescue. Gabriel appeared in the monks dreams and showed him how to tie a special knot that vanquiches the Devil. The very next day the monk started to pray and to tie the special knot that consist of 7 small interlocking crosses. The Devil appeared again, but when he tried to untie the knots the special bond of the knots repelled him back to hell.
This brave humble monk stood his ground and kept on going even in his darkest hours. Ultimately claiming victory over evil. We all know this legendary monk. He was Saint Anthony the Great.

One can either say the Jesus Prayer on it, a prayer I have said off and on for 40 years or the prayer of St. Macarius....

"Lord, as Thou knowest, and as Thou wilt, have mercy!" 

The Signs of Change

There will be hardly any countries left in the western world by the end of this year which will not allow ssm. These trends have not happened by accident. Those Catholics who do not understand what is happening will be horribly surprised in the very near future.

As one young woman told a friend of mine, she can no longer see herself as a teacher in England, as she would have to teach, or let someone else go into her class and teach that ssm is ok. She cannot abide this and she can nothing about it.

The Marxists, the Gramscians have won the battle in Europe and are winning in America.

Unless Catholics rally against the dictates of the godless, they will find themselves not merely marginalized, but persecuted outright.

How many times can I write this and have people commenting that this is simply not so and that I am a false prophet? I only following what is already happening and highlighting these trends for readers.

Time for another ostrich picture....

Poetry from Malta

Autumn and a Lady in Malta

There are no falling leaves here
Desert plants do not acknowledge
Autumn nor reveal the pains of

Yet, autumn it is, despite oleander
And cacti; the sunshine mocks
Those who are in mourning, those
Who do not come to these isles.

A woman sits in a darkened room,
With faded rose and pale green
Chairs, her head in black, her
Dress, black, and as the Irish

Companioni exclaimed, loudly, “I see
You are in mourning.” The black-
Laced lady is in mourning, and wears
A bishop’s ring, not noticing it

In her darkness.  Mysterious loss,
Hidden in time and memory, and
Memory she must deny, move on
As the Virgin Queen said to her

Executed lovers. No discussion, no
Tears are allowed in this hot country,
Where feelings fall like leaves in
Colder countries, but blow away

As fast, as if once seen in oranges,
Yellows and reds, now purposefully
Ignored. No country for old men
Or old women, just kind children.

The lady in lace, surrounded by
Grayness, knows now she is alone,
Like so many other women of her
Age and status. The curse of widows

Is that all seem to think that memories
Sooth, coddle, sustain, but that would
Be madness, not reality. She knows
This truth and knows she is alone with

No Ulysses desiring her after twenty years
Absence; no Orpheus willing to go into
Hades to rescue her from the fading fires.
No one but the New God, to Whom she

Turns. but when she turns, she sees
Only the painted Baroque cross.  This is her
Way now, and in the darkness, she
Acquiesces, joining with the Sorrowful

Madre.  Life was offered and she chose
Life, never death, for she knows the
Plant must die in order for new seeds
To grow; so she waits, in the land of in-

Between, like a holding area in an
Airport, she waits, like a child in
The care of a Father who allowed
His Own Beloved Son to die.

She takes her mourning memories, pressed
Like violets in the family bible, and puts
Them in her amethyst ring, symbol of
Lost power and lost tradition. She does not weep.

Take a moment and read all my Gramsci posts

Take time to read all my Gramsci and Marxism posts. These will help you understand what is happening in America and in Europe-the undermining, totally, of Western Civilization and the victory of the Marxists. Just follow the tags.

Ah, those unknown, unreal insects

Two weeks ago, I finally found out what was biting my legs. I have taken walks on the Sliema Promenade and stopped to say the rosary there in front of a beautiful, small statue of Mary, Our Mother.

The cats of Malta, many of which live in the park below the Promenade, occupy the same place as me and my rosary.

Cat fleas. I found a dead one which fell off of me. The fact that I had welts indicates an allergic reaction.

Well, I can avoid that area, or at least not sit there and pray.

I do love cats and it is too bad some have fleas.

I have not had bites now for two weeks. One must be careful. Poor cats. There are cat charities in Malta for the strays.

Here is one link .