‘Puter received two interesting pieces of feedback related to his musings on the Maureen Dowd’s proclaimed (stridently so) “Catholicism.”
First, a correction that arrived in ‘Puter’s master suite at the Castle inscribed on Dat Ho, who was unceremoniously tossed through ‘Puter’s open window. Three floors up. Instantly, ‘Puter recognized Your Volgi’s handiwork, and upon closer examination, Volgi’s calligraphy as well. Volgi pens concerning ‘Puter’s characterization of Ms. Dowd believing in transubstantiation rather than consubstantiation:
There’s no sign she [Ms. Dowd] believes it does ANYTHING. Consubstantiation was Luther’s attempt to rationalize transubstantiation. It means that rather than its substance becoming the B&B of Jesus, it remains bread and wine and becomes Jesus somehow. It’s true God and true Bread. Or something. Dowd clearly thinks it’s just a symbolic remembrance. That’s more like the Calvinist “communion” or whatever than the Eucharist.
Point taken. Ms. Dowd doesn’t believe in either the central tenet of the Roman Catholic faith, or that of many Protestant denominations. Ms. Dowd believes the Eucharist is a nice fairy tale, and that we should all get to work on social justice, which means exactly whatever Ms. Dowd needs it to mean at any given moment to affirm her superiority.
Next, Gormogon Operative D.F. writes in from a ranged target at Aberdeen Proving Ground, in support of ‘Puter’s take. D.F. states:
This note on Cultural Catholics strikes a chord. I am not Catholic, but did attend Catholic high school and college, and my 2 closest friends are Roman Catholic deacons/deacons in training. This is a topic we discuss frequently, and we always end up back at this notion of faith vs. ethnic identity. Even ol’ heathen me recognizes that Catholicism is a faith, not an ethnic identity, and those who are not of the faith should seek ‘spirituality’ elsewhere; after all, that’s why Episcopalian churches were invented. If one is to be Catholic, then be Catholic, with all that entails. Those who seek to be ‘cafeteria Catholics’ or ‘cultural Catholics’ do damage the Church by blurring and diluting the message and teachings.
‘Puter very much appreciates D.F.’s response. It is refreshing to have a self-described non-Catholic appreciate the right of Catholics to have rules, and to enforce those rules, regarding our beliefs. D.F.’s point on religion versus ethnicity is also intriguing. It seems applicable to Judaism as well (i.e., actual practicing Jew v. “I like Hanukkah and seders”).
Keep up the feedback. It keeps ‘Puter on his toes, and Dat Ho afraid.
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.