Monday, September 4, 2017

OUIJA BOARDS -- STAY AWAY!

I  first  bumped  into  a  Ouija  Board  when  I  was  a  4  year  old  kid.  Back  then,  in  the  late  1950s,   Ouija  Boards  were  regarded  as  a  harmless  toy,  safe  for  kids  and  adults.  One  of  my  older  siblings  received  a  Ouija  Board  as  a  gift,  and  retreated  to  the  basement  of  our  home  with  another  older  sibling  to  experiment  with  it.   I  followed  them  down  into  the  basement  and  watched  their  Ouija  Board  ritual  with  the  keen,  pure  interest  of  an  innocent  4  year  old.  All  were  greatly  disappointed  when  nothing  seemed  to  happen,  and  they  quit  their  game.

Nothing  seemed  to  happen,  that  is,  until  late  that  night ...

That  night,  I  had  the  first  "ghostly"  experience  of  my  life.  I  awakened  in  my  bed  in  the  darkened  house,  and  listened  and  heard  my  brothers sleeping  soundly  in  their  beds  behind  mine  in  the  boy's  room,  and  my  parents  snoring  peacefully  in  their  bed  through  the  doorway  to  their  room  next  to  my  bed.  I  pulled  my  blankets  up  to  my  chin  and  waited  for  sleep  to  come.  Suddenly,  I  felt  a  strong,  distinct  compulsion ...

"Peter,  look  into  your  parents'  bedroom.  Something  is  about  to  happen."

I  looked,  and  saw  a  classic  ghostly  figure  come  floating  into  my  parents'  bedroom  from  the  direction  of  the  other  door  to  their  room.  She  floated  around  the  end  of  their  bed,  enabling  me  to  see  that  she  was  dressed  in  a  flowing  translucent  gown,  about  an  inch  above  the  floor  --  toward  me  in  my  bed!

Frightened,  I  pulled  my  blankets  over  my  head,  hoping  "the  ghost  lady"  --  I  had  a  strong  feeling  that  "it"  was  a "she" --  would  just  go  away.

After  a  few  minutes,  I  peeked  out  from  beneath  my  blankets  and  into  my  parents'  bedroom,  and  saw  that  the  thing  was  gone.  Greatly  relieved,  I  turned  over  to  my  other  side  under  the  blankets  --  and  froze.

There  the  thing  was,  between  my  bed  and  my  older  brother's  bed,  bent  over  my  older  brother's  sleeping  figure,  staring  intently  at  him.

After  a  few  moments,  the  thing  turned  her  head  around,  and  stared  at  me,  as  I  continued  laying  there,  frozen  in  astonishment.  Then  it  straightened  up,  and  floated  out  the  other  door  to  our  bedroom  into  the  hall.

It  dawned  on  me,  years  later,  that  when  the  thing  first  floated  into  our  parents'  bedroom,   it  was  coming  from  the  direction  of  the  bedroom  of  the  other  sibling  who  participated  in  the  Ouija  Board  "seance"  that  day,  and  then  came  and  stared  at  the  brother  who  had  been  participant  #2,  while  I  was  alerted  to  watch  --  what  I  had  done  in  the  basement  during  my  siblings'  "ritual."

I.e.,  the  Ouija  Board  worked.

The  house  remained  haunted  for  years  after  that.  The  thing  followed  a  pattern.   (1)  It  came  in  the  dark  or  subdued  light;  (2)  when  the  experiencer  was  asleep,  going  to  sleep  or  waking  up;  (3)  and  "put  on  a  show"  for  the  experiencer;  (4)  frequently  evidencing  a  "female"  presence.

The  "show"  was  comprised  of  knocking  on  the  walls,  or  a  physical  grabbing  of  the  body,  or  a  sudden  raising  of  the  shades  in  the  room  --  anything  to  get  our  attention.

Once,  when  I  confided  that  "ghostly"  experience,  and  others,  to  Phyllis,  one  of  the  ladies  who  lived  next  door,  she  suggested  that  I  try  to  contact  the  thing  back.  Astonished  and  fearful,  I  immediately  said,  "NO  WAY!"  

But,  "fools  rush ..."

On  an  evening  not  long  after  my  conversation  with  Phyllis,  everybody  in  our  family  had  a  place  to  go  after  dinner  but  me.  It  occurred  to  me  that,  isolated,  I  could  attempt  to  contact  the  ghost,  as  Phyllis  had  suggested,  with  no  one  else  in  the  family  to  distract  or  shame  me.

When  all  had  left  and  I  was  alone,  I  placed  a  paper  and  a  crayon  on  the  coffee  table  in  the  living  room, turned  on  some  soft  music  to  help  lull  myself  into  a  sleepy  state,  doused  all  of  the  lights  in  the  house,  sat  on  the  living  room  sofa,  and  announced,  "Okay,  whoever  you  are,  I  would  appreciate  it  if  you  tried  to  contact  me."

Nothing  happened  except  suddenly  the  radio  broadcast  some  raucous  rock  music  in  place  of  the  soft  music.

I  jumped  up  and  changed  stations,  tuning  the  radio  to  MAGIC,  WMGK  FM  103,  where  I  found  some  quiet  soft  shoe  music.  I  returned  to  the  sofa  and  repeated  my  request,  "Okay,  whoever  you  are,  I  would  appreciate  it  if  you  tried  to  contact  me."  But  I  added,  "If  you  do,  I  promise  I  won't  tell  anyone."

All  of  a  sudden,  an  invisible  cloud  of  cold  materialized  at  my  face,  characterized  by  a  sensation  of  wild  touching,  touching,  touching.  Then  the  touching  sensation  launched  itself  into  my  nose  and  mouth,  and  to  my  astonishment  rushed  down  my  lungs  till,  at  heart  level,  it  began  to  make  my  heart  beat  very  violently.

"IT'S  A  DEMON  TRYING  TO  POSSESS  ME!"  I  thought  to  myself  in  a  panic  as  I  jumped  up  and  kind  of  prayerfully  "no'd"  it  out  of  me.

Poof.  The  sensation  vanished  and  my  heart  went  back  to  normal.

I  never  tried  to  contact  the  thing  again.  And  I  kept  my  promise  to  not  tell  anyone  --  for  a  year  or  so.

But  then,  one  night,  when  I  walked  into  the  house,  I  found  my  father  telling  the  gathered  family  about  his  ghostly  experiences  when  he  was  young.  I  thought  to  myself,  "If  he  can  do  it  without  shame,  I  can  do  it,"  and  I  ran  through  the  list  of  ghostly  experiences  beginning  with  the  visitation  which  followed  the  use  of  the  Ouija  Board  and  ending  with  my  "communication  experiment"  that  had  such  a  bad  ending.  As  I  told  them  about  the  communication  experiment,  I  was  conscious  of  the  fact  that  I  was  breaking  my  promise  to  the  thing.  The  members  of  the  family  who  were  present  that  night  stared  open-mouthed  as  I  told  them  the  story.

That  night, or  maybe  one  or  two  nights  later,  I  had  the  worst  "ghostly"  experience  of  my  life  in  the  form  of  a  wild,  frightening  nightmare.  A  group  of  4  or  5  black-eyed  "muchkins"  in  deep  blue  gas-station-style   jumpsuits  walked  towards  me,  out  of  the  screen  of  my  dream,  angrily  sneering,  "YOU  SON-OF-A-B - - - H,  YOU  BROKE  YOUR  PROMISE  TO  US  TO  NOT  TELL  ANYONE.  WE'RE  GOING  TO  GET  YOU  FOR  DOING  THAT!!!"  At  that  point  I  noticed  that  they  were  carrying  a  thick  hose  between  them,  like  firemen  holding  a  fire  hose,  and  they  suddenly  rushed  at  me  and  rammed  me  in  the  belly  with  it.  In  the  dream  I  went  "oooooooooooooooofff"  in  response.

But  then  I  awakened  slowly  in  my  bed.  As  I  came  to,  I  realized  that  I  was  screaming,  screaming,  screaming  in  my  bedroom  bunk.  As  I  stopped  screaming,  I  realized  that  not  only  was  I covered  head-to-foot  with  sweat,  but  I  was  lying  in  pools of  sweat  on  the  sheets.  I  also  had  a  distinct  sensation  that  I  had  been  anally  raped  by  the  hose,  not  punched  in  the  stomach  by  it.  As  I  apprehended  this,  I  saw  a  vision  of  the  "muchkins"  in  the  periphery  of  my  vision  laughing  at  me.

And  then  I  realized  that  it  was 10:00  a.m.  on  a  sunny  weekend  morning,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  house  was  quiet.  I  got  down  off  my  bunk,  got  a  towel  and  dried  off  the  sweat,  and  I  dressed  and  went  downstairs.  There  members  of  the  family  were  gathered  in  the  living  room,  staring  at  me  angrily.  One  explained,  "Around  midnight  you  began  yelling  and  screaming  in  your  sleep.  We  tried  to  wake  you,  but  couldn't.  We've  been  down  here  for  hours  while  you  screamed  in  your  sleep,  talking  about  what  to  do  with  you."

"Sorry  about  that,"  I  stammered  without  further  explanation,  hoping  that  they'd  just  drop  the  whole  thing.  I  found  it  impossible,  then,  to  tell  them  about  the  rape  dream.

Years  later,  after  I  became  a  New  Jersey  trial  lawyer  and  married  and  moved  to  New  Jersey,  I  stopped  at  Blockbuster  Video  and  rented  the  Whitley  Streiber  film  Communion  for  entertainment  one  Friday  night  after  court  while  I  and  my  wife  chomped  on  pizza.  I  had  heard  of  Communion  and  of  the  Abduction  Phenomenon,  but  that  was  it.

As  we  sat  watching  the  film  and  eating  pizza,  the  movie  advanced  to  the  point  where  the  movie  portrayed  Streiber  experiencing  the  blue-suited  "munchins"  assisting  the  almond-eyed  abductors  in  the  Abduction  Phenomenon.

I  had  already  told  my  wife  about  my  rape  dream  years  before.  So,  I  blurted  out,  "THAT'S  THEM!  THOSE  ARE  THE  BLUE-SUITED  B - - - - - DS  WHO  ANALLY  RAPED  ME  IN  THAT  RAPE  DREAM  YEARS  AGO  TO  PUNISH  ME  FOR  BREAKING  MY  PROMISE!"

And  since  that  time,  I  have  been  firmly  committed  to  the  notion  that  the  beings  in  the  Abduction  Phenomenon  are  demonic,  and  that  the  "ghosts"  engendered  by  Ouija  Boards  are  the  same.

Take  it  from  me  --  Ouija  Boards  are  thoroughly  dangerous.  Keep  the  kids  away  from  them.

Friday, September 1, 2017

TOURETTE'S SYNDROME

Our  family  was  friendly  with  a  couple,  years  ago,  where  the  husband  seemed  to  suffer  from  two  different  facial  tics.  He  was  a  very,  very  nice  guy,  except  that  he  was  prone  to  rage  in  disputes  with  his  wife.  When  I  would  pay  a  visit  to  their  home  and  accidentally  walk  into  the  middle  of  a  fight,  I  would  hear  him  robotically  repeating,  "F - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle,"  again  and  again,  hundreds  of  times.  On  such  occasions,  I  would  convince  him  to  take  an  hour-long  walk  through  town  with  me,  during  which  he  would  continue  repeating,  "F - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle;  f - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle;  f - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle;  f - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle."

On  one  such  occasion,   the  encounter  was  especially  bizarre.  It  was  evening.  Their  child  was  curled-up  in  a  corner  of  the  living  room,  shaking,  when  I  entered  the  house.  The  husband  was  holding  the  crying  wife  prisoner  in  a  chair  in  front  of  a  mirror  by  her  hair,  repeating  as  usual,  "F - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle;  f - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle;  f - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle;  f - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle."  He  didn't  seem  to  realize  I  was  there.   I  called  home  to  my  wife  and  told  her  that  the  mother  and  child  would  have  to  sleep  in  our  spare  bedroom.  When  my  wife  came  over  to  assist,  I  gently  persuaded  the  husband  to  let  the wife  leave  that  chair,  and  my  wife  quickly  ushered  the  wife  and  child  out  the  front  door  to  our  house.  As  I  turned  around  to  face  the  husband  again,  he  walked  past  me  without  seeing  me,  still  repeating  his  evil  curse  words,  "F - - k  my  mother-in-law;  f - - k  my  wife's  uncle."  I  took  him  for  his  hour-long  walk  to  give  him  the  chance  to  calm  down.  He  returned  home  and  slept.

I  probably  should  have  called  police,  but  the  wife  stubbornly  refused  to  cooperate  with  that  effort.

As  I  pondered  the  problem,  I  thought,  "Where  else  have  I  seen  this  behavior  in  my  law  practice?"  And  then  it  dawned  on  me:  In  my  few  cases  involving  Tourette's  Syndrome.

Tourette's  cases  are  typically  evidenced  by  multiple  varieties  of  facial  tics,  and,  again,  the  husband  in  this  case  had  two  of  them  --  a  regularly-occurring  sniff  and  a  regularly-occurring  grimace.  Also,  robotic  behavior  emerges,  and  I  had  clearly  witnessed  that.  Also,  there  is  sometimes  a  pronounced  proclivity  to  obscene  cursing  --  my  neighbor's  outstanding  persistent  symptom.   He  had  Tourette's.  I  was  sure  of  it.  When  I  told  the  husband  and  wife  about  my  analysis  and  compared  the  husband's  behavior  to  the  list  of  symptoms  on  a  brochure  on  Tourette's,  they  both  burst  out  laughing.  I  pleaded,  "At  least  see  a  doctor  on  this.  Medication  may  solve  the  problem."

They  laughed  some  more,  and  politely  declined  to  abide  by  my  suggestion.

But  the  fights  continued.  The  husband's  bad  behavior  continued.  The  situation  finally  exploded  in  divorce,  which  I  was  glad  to  see,  if  only  for  their  traumatized  child's  sake.


Thursday, August 24, 2017

DO "THEY" LITERALLY HAVE US DRINKING RAW SEWAGE IN CAMDEN COUNTY ?

I  kind  of  "tell  all"  in  this  blog,  right?  Well,  wait  till  you  read  this!

Every  time  the  powers-that-be  do  something,    it  benefits  "them"   at  the  expense  of  some  group   --  or  everyone.

For  example,    Governor  Christie  is  wildly  in  support  of  blowing  a  billion-and-a-half  State  dollars   on  North  Jersey  casinos,  now,  which  will  buy  him  North  Jersey  votes ...

http://www.nj.com/politics/index.ssf/2016/01/christie_nj_leaders_reach_deal_on_north_jersey_cas.html

... WHILE  he  nastily  condemns  making  quarterly  payments  to  the   State's  public  employees  pension  system,  in  effect  demanding  that  the  pension  rush  even  faster  toward  bankruptcy  by  breaking  the  contract  with  State  employees,   threatening   the  safety  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  New  Jersey  senior  citizens! ...

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/wireStory/christie-highlights-bipartisanship-dives-pension-fight-36250737


Note  well  that  those  two  positions  together  amount  to  a  withdrawal   FROM  the  pension  fund    INTO   worthless  casinos  that  only  make  the  rich   as  fat  as  ...  well,  you  know.

IN  EFFECT,    Governor  Christie  is  stealing  from  senior  citizens  and  state  employees  to  buy  North  Jersey  votes.

Well,  could  it  be  that  the  powers-that-be    now  have  us  drinking  raw  sewage?

Apparently,  yes!

My  wife  Rise`  trained  me  to  be  a  water  drinker.  It  makes  everything  better  in  your  physiology.    

Many  months  ago,  I  noticed  that  the  water  from  our  cold  water  tap  in  Magnolia  began  to  smell.   Like  life.  Like  water  from  a  fish  tank  after  fish  begin  crapping  in  it.  I  thought,  "Huh!"

So,  I  started  drinking  hot  water,  only,  because  it  didn't  have  the  smell.

Then,  at  a  place  and  time  which  I  can  not  reveal,  because  it  might  get  someone  fired,   I  sat  down  with  an  employee  of  New  Jersey  American  Water,    the  water  provider  to  millions  of  people  in  our  region,  including  Magnolia.  He/she  told  me  that  the  smell  in  the  water   came  from   the  untreated  Delaware  River  water   that  had  been  added  to  our  water  supply  by  New  Jersey  American  Water,  and  that  part  of  New  Jersey  American  Water's  executives'  understanding  of  the  consequences  of  doing  that  is  that  THE  OPERATIONAL  LIFE  OF  MILLIONS  OF   HOT  WATER  HEATERS  WOULD  BE  VISIBLY  SHORTENED  BY  THE  ADDITION  OF  UNTREATED  DELAWARE  RIVER  WATER   TO  OUR  LOCAL  WATER  SUPPLY.  Why?   Because   the  hot  water  heaters  functionally  kill  and  then  distill  the   bodies  of  trillions  of  microorganisms  in  the  Delaware  River  water   out  of  the  water  headed  for  our  taps,  filling  our  hot  water  heaters   with  debris  which  shortens  tank  life.

My  friend's  words  explained  why  hot  tap  water  was  so  much  less  unpleasant  than  cold  tap  water  in  Magnolia  and  elsewhere  in  South  Jersey,  now.

My  wife  Rise`  also  purchased  a  filtered  pitcher  for  drinking  water  for  our  family.  It  seems  to  work.  The  water  from  the  cold  water  tap  now  has  no  smell.

But  something  occurred  to  me  the  other  day ...

Months  ago,  I  noticed  that  one  of  our  sons  allowed  his  dog  to   "kiss"  him   on  the  lips.

Aware  that  dogs  habitually   lick  their  anal  apertures,  I  thought,  "YEEEEEECH!"   He  argued  that   dogs  have  super-powerful   enzymes  in  their  saliva  that  killed  everything.

I  researched  that  concept  of  super-powerful  dog  saliva  enzymes  on-line,  found  it  to  be  a  "Wives'  Tale,"  and  ran  a  blog  item   featuring  pictures  of  some  of  the  shocking  microorganisms  in  dog  spit   after  they  lick  everything  horrible  which  all  dogs  habitually  lick.

It  dawned  on  me  the  other  day,  as  I  continued  to  obsessively   think  about   our  fish-tank-smelling  tap  water,    that  the  exact  same   microorganisms  in  dog  spit  might  now  be  in  our  drinking  water  because  of  the  addition  of  Delaware  River  water.

The  most  repulsive  microorganisms  portrayed  in  the  dog-kissing  blog  piece   were  "cryptosporidia"  --  intestinal  microorganisms  whose  offspring  come  out  in  human  and  animal  crap   which  take  up  residence  in  and  become  a  part  of  our  intestines.  They  are  incredibly  disgusting.  If  you  want  to  know  what  organisms   are  "of  the  essence  of"  drinking  sewage,  it  is  "cryptosporidia."


So,  when  I  checked   the  New  Jersey  American   website,  and  looked  at  the  analysis  of  the  Delaware  water  now  added  to  our  drinking  water,   GUESS  WHO  THE  "STAR  OF  THE  SHOW"   WAS.

Yup! 







Thursday, August 10, 2017

RESOLVING THE CATHOLIC SEXUAL ETHICS MESS

As  the  number  of  Catholics  in  the  pews  at  Mass  in  Catholic  churches  dwindles  Sunday  after  Sunday,  church  finances  grow  ever  more  desperate  --  despite  the  sale  of  one  Catholic  parish  after  another.   

Our  parish,  St.  Gregory's  Parish  in  Magnolia,  Camden  County,  New  Jersey,  no  longer  exists.  At  the  busy  intersection  of  White  Horse  Pike  and  Evesham  Road,  it  had  a  big,  big  parking  lot.  Its  finances  were  solid,  in  large  part  because  of  the  parking  lot  --  although  there  were  fewer  large  families  and  fewer  young  adults  married  or  unmarried  in  the  nave  every  Sunday,  Mass  attendance,  generally,  remained  strong.

Nonetheless,  as  a  parishioner  and  as  a  member  of  church  council,  I  could  read  the  writing  on  the  wall  --  the  Catholic  Church  was  clearly  in  trouble,  as  the  Diocese  "consolidated"  Catholic  parish  after  Catholic  parish,  and  confronted  the  declining  number  of  pastors  with  the  need  to  sell  Catholic  Church  properties  in  their  parishes  for  lack  of  manpower  or  users.

On  one  Sunday  at  Mass  at  St.  Gregory's,  I  noticed  something  odd  about  the  Church:  A  crack  ran  though  a  beam  comprising  a  rafter  in  the  ceiling,  into  the  adjacent  ceiling,  down  the  wall,  and  into  the  basement.  I  went  and  got  Monsignor  Korda,  and  pointed the anomaly out  to  him.   Monsignor  called  a  private  inspection  service,  who  agreed  that  the  ceiling  and  adjacent  wall  and  floor  were  in  danger  of  collapse  due  to  an  insufficient  foundation.

He  said  to  me,  "Peter,  I  have  to  spend  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars  to  fix  this  defect  you  discovered."  I  said,  "Father,  why  do  that?  The  Diocese  is  shortly  going  to  close  this  parish  anyway."

"Ah,  Peter,"  he  responded,  "The  Diocese  would  never  close  this  parish.  We're  one  of  the  few  parishes  'in  the  black.'  Our  location  and  parking  lot  are  a  big  draw  for  Mass."

I  answered,  "Monsignor,  that  is  why  they'll  close  down  St.  Gregory's.  If  they  sell  it,  it  will  generate  cash  proceeds.  It  will  sell  for  a  good  price  because  it's  an  excellent  commercial  location,  with  no  mortgage  to  pay  off.  The  Diocese  needs  the  money  because  of  declining  overall  finances  generated  by  Catholics  alienated  by  Humanae  Vitae,  the  priest  sex  cases,  and  growing  Catholic  materialism  due  mostly  to  modern  communications.  Haven't  you  noticed  the  pattern  in  the  sale  of  Church  properties?  They're  selling  the  good  stuff,  and  keeping  the  heavily  mortgaged  properties  with  bad  parking  lots."

Lo  and  behold,  after  Msgr.  Korda's  retirement  and  replacement,  St.  Gregory's  Parish  was  ridiculously  merged  into  Mary  Mother  of  the  Church  Parish  in  Bellmawr,  over  4  miles  distant.   Alarmed  parishioners  asked  me  to  try  to  verify  that  St.  Gregory's  would  not  be  closed  and  sold.   I  secured  from  the  Bishop's  Office  a  letter  personally  signed  by  the  bishop  promising  that  there  were  "no  plans  to  sell  St.  Gregory's."  Today,  St.  Gregory's  is  demolished  and  is  being  replaced  by  a  commercial  gas-station-and-convenience-store  combination.  So,  "No  plans"  functionally  meant,  "No  plans  today,  but,  hey,  tomorrow,  who  knows? ..."  A  lie  in  writing  by  a  bishop?

No  matter  what,  the  prevailing  role  of  dissonance in  the  Catholic  Church  over  sexual  issues  in  its  slow  decline  is  so  important  to  analyze,  to  understand  all  of  this.   

BIRTH  CONTROL.  About  20  years  ago,  a  federally  financed  study  verified  that  about  72.4%  of  church-going  Catholics  made  regular  use  of  artificial  birth  control  in  their  sexual  relationships;  among  all  Catholics,  the  numbers  approximated  95%.  The  one  son  who  will  discuss  the  issue  with  me  says,  "Dad,  in  my  generation,  the  number  is  100%."  He's  wrong,  but  his  attitude  is  telling.  It's  close  to  100%.

Now,  think  about  that.   Between  72%  and  100%  of  those  regularly  attending  Mass  when  the  Church  passes  the  hat  at  Sunday  Mass  regularly  disobey  infallible  Humanae  Vitae in  and  outside  marriage.

The  priests  saying  Mass  know  this.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  priest  decline  to  give  communion  to  a  parishioner  he  knows  to  be  a  regular  and  persistent  violator  of  Humanae  Vitae?  I  tripped  into  this  question  in  this  form ...

Years  ago,  in  the  early  1980s,  I  went  to  Saturday  confessions  at  St.  Gregory's  for  the  first  time.  Father  Robert  Cairone  --  a  gentle,  forgiving  soul  --  was  the  priest  in  the  north  side  confessional.   The  pastor,  Monsignor  Edward  Korda,  was  the  priest  in  the  south  side  confessional.   Fr.  Cairone's  confessional  had  no  line.   Msgr.  Korda's  confessional  had  about  10  penitents  in  waiting.   I  said  to  a  neighbor  at  the  end  of  Msgr.  Korda's  line,  "What  gives?   Why  does  everyone  seem  to  be  avoiding  Fr.  Cairone  for  confession?"

My  neighbor  smiled.  "This  is  the  birth  control  line.  In  Msgr.  Korda's  line,   we  can  come  in  week  after  week  and  confess  to  use  of  birth  control  in  our  marriages.  If  Fr.  Cairone  catches  us  doing  that,  he  finds  that  there  is  no  true  repentance  and  declares  the  sin  'retained.'"

I  thought  about  that,  and  said,  "Everyone  who  does  that  on  this  side  is  making  an  invalid  confession.  Fr.  Cairone  is  correct.  Msgr.  Korda  is  probably  abusing  the  sacrament."  I switched  sides  and  went  to  Fr.  Cairone  for  confession.

I  bumped  into  the  issue  a  second  time,  with  Msgr.  Korda.  I  once  commented  to  him  that  in  my  Bible  study  program,  we  had  discussed  one  of  the  New  Testament  verses  on  oral  contraceptives.

"Peter,"  said  Msgr.  Korda,  "There's  no  such  Bible  verses!"

"Humanae  Vitae  doesn't  cite  them,  Msgr.,  but  there  are  actually  four  of  them."  I  ran  through  the  list,  and  showed  him  the  corroborating  proof -- an  Early  Church  catechism  called  the  Didache,  and   an  early  Epistle,  respected  but  not  included  in  the  Scriptural  canon  --  the  following  day.

I  bumped  into  the  issue  a  third  time  as  follows.  One  Saturday,  Mgsr.  Korda  called  me  and  asked  me  to  discuss  something  with  him  at  the  rectory.   I  went  over  immediately  and  he  had  me  read  an  express  written  order  from  the  bishop  to  all  priests  in  the  Diocese  to  dedicate  the  following  Sunday's  homily  to  the  moral  importance  of  obeying  Humanae  Vitae  vis-a-vis  use  of  artificial  birth  control     --  the  great  Contraception  Sunday  experiment  in  Camden  Diocese.

"The  faithful  are  going  to  hang  you  from  the  rafters,"  I  commented.

"That  was  my  reaction,"  he  answered.

Nonetheless,  all  three  priests  in  our  parish  obeyed  the  order.  In  the  Diocese's  dozens  of  other  parishes,  about  one-third  of  the  priests  simply  disobeyed  the  order  (according  to  an  insider  I  shall  not  identify).  Masses  where  the  order  was  obeyed  generated  hundreds  of  walk-outs  and  thousands  of  letters  of  protest  to  the  bishop  (according  to  the  same  source).

The  experiment  was  never  repeated.

And  our  priests  regularly  give  communion  to  contributing  church-going  Catholics  even  if  it  is  clear  that  they  are  disobeying  Humanae  Vitae  --  where  are  the  kids  beside  them  in  the  pews?  --  while  the  number  of  church-going  parents  with  multiple  kids  next  to  them  in  the  pews  at  Mass  on  Sunday  is  embarrassingly  rare.

Functionally,  most  of  the  Faithful  are  knowingly  living  in  a  state  of  rebellion  against  the  Church,  week-in  and  week-out.

SEX  ABUSE  OF  KIDS  AND  YOUNG  ADULTS  BY  OUR  PRIESTS.  Even  my  comments  here  will  generate  controversy  in  an  uncontroversial  moral  realm...

It's  a  gay  problem.

An  unimpeachable  source  one  asked  me,  "Pete,  how  many  of  our  priests  are  gay,  do  you  think?"

"A  third,"  I  opined.

"That's  my  guess,"  he  responded.  "How  do  you  feel  about  gays  as  priests?"

"My  answer's  complex,"  I  said.  "I  believe  the  articles  claiming  that  gays  have  trouble  keeping  their  pants  on.  One  was  an  article  by  a  psych  explaining that  males  are  grazers  and  women  are  nesters,  and  that  gay  men  retain  their  grazer  characteristic,  and  lesbians  remain  nesters,  and  that  male  gay  relationships  involving  two  grazers  are  almost  never  genuinely  committed,  marriage  or  no;    and  that  the  reason  why  police  hate  lesbian  domestics,  involving  two  nesters,  is  that  the  couples  drive  each  other  crazy  with  mutual  emotional  smothering  generating  explosive  battles  with  no  insight.  Another  article  was  by  a  Catholic  priest  who  said,  'I  sought  celibate  relationships  with  fellow  gays  in  the  priesthood.  All  the  other  guys  ever  wanted  was  sex.  It  was  hopeless.'  If  the  Church  discovers  that  a  priest  is  gay  but  keeping  his  pants  on,  God  bless  him.  I  would  like  that  gay  man  as  my  pastor.  If  a  priest  clearly  isn't  keeping  his  pants  on,  he's  gotta  go,  period.    If  the  Church  wants  to  bar  gays  from  the  priesthood  as  a  matter  of  policy  because  gay  men  are  innately  promiscuous,  then  God  bless  the  Church.

"I  also  read  an  article  by  a  gay  guy  arguing,  'Let's  face  it  --  gay  guys  like  prime  beef,  the  younger  the  better.'  Thus,  the  priest  sex  abuse  cases  involve  young  male  victims  in  five-sixths  of  the  cases,  without  question.  The  priest  sex  cases  are  really  a  gay  problem.  It  exists  because  so  many  priests  are  gay.  Why  do  we  have  so  many  gay  priests?  I  believe  that  it  is  because  'having  a  vocation'  comprises  a  good  way  to  'stay  in  the  closet.'"

Most  church-going  Catholics  are  not  Catholics  because  of  their  love  of  Catholic  doctrine.  Most  are  Catholics  because  of  inculcated  habit.

But  the  habit  shrivels  and  dies  easily  when  non-Catholic  neighbors  comment  to  them,  "Oh,  isn't  that  the  Church  of  Perverted  Priests?  Why  do  you  attend  it?"

HOMOSEXUAL  MARRIAGE.   In  essence,  God  makes  homosexuals,  to  the  extent  that  He  imposes  the  consequences  of  Original  Sin  on  humanity.  I  happen  to  ascribe  to  psychologist  Joseph  Nicolosi's  "super  male"  analysis  of  male  gays  --  a  gay  male  is  born  straight,  but  direly  needful  of  an  affectionate  father  figure  to  "tool  around  after"  in  his  infant  years.  If  there  is  such  a  male  in  his  life,  he  "imprints  "male"  at  or  around  the  age  of  4.   Lacking  a  father  figure,  because  father  is  rarely  at  home  or  sadly  unavailable  to  his  young  son,  emotionally,  the  son,  in  or  around  his  fourth  year,  substitutes-in  the  next  best  source  of  information  on  the  subject  of  gender  characteristics,  mom.  In  a  study  that  supposedly  met  with  great  success,  Nicolosi  identified  "super  male  infants,"  and  instructed  cooperating  parents  to  make  sure  that  dad  was  physically  and  emotionally  a  strong  presence  in  the  boy's  life,  with  the  consequence  that  homosexuality  did  not  emerge  among  the  maturing  infant  test  population.

Now,  if  Nicolosi  is  correct,  the  mainspring  of  the  problem  is  the  rather-well-hidden  emergence  of  the  super-male  component  among  our  infant  males  created  by  God.  And  if  Nicolosi  isn't  correct,  and  gays  will  simply  be  gays,  the  dysfunction  is  really  God's  fault  in  that  case  also.  Those  who  argue  that  gays  are  misbehaving  straights  are  all  wet.

That  doesn't  morally  justify  gay  behavior.  But  then  my  proclivity  to  engage  in  straight  sex  doesn't  justify  non-marital  fornication  or  adultery.

But  if  the  homosexual  dysfunction  is  such  that  gay  men  are  innately  promiscuous,  then  I  can  see  how God  conceivably  can  be  more  forgiving  of  gay  fornicating,  in  or  out  of  the  sham  of  gay  marriage,  than  He  is  of  heterosexual  fornication.  I.e.,  the  moral  rules  are  there  for  both,  but  God  is  less  forgiving  of  heterosexuals  because  their  relationships  lack  that  innate  promiscuity!

Legally,  the  homosexual  marriage  Supreme  Court  case  is  improper.  The  Court  relied  on  the  Fifth  and  Fourteenth  Amendment  substantive  due  process  rule  and  the  Fourteenth  Amendment  Equal  Protection  Clause  to  support  gay  marriage  in  the  Obergefell  decision.  But  --  think  --  how  possible  is  it  that  such  was  within  the  intent  of  the  Amendments'  framers?  Wouldn't  the  Framers  have  declined  to  pass  the  5th  Amendment,  or  declined  to  pass  the  14th Amendment  and  to  rejoin  the  Union,  had  they  been  told,  "You  know,  because  of  these  amendments,  our  federal  courts  can  order  troops  into  your  states  to  force  judges  to  marry  men  to  men  and  women  to  women"?

Nonetheless,  suppose  a  modern  amendment  to  the  Constitution  is  ratified  to  require  gay  marriage  where  desired.  How  should  Catholics  respond?

To  be  non-hypocritical,  Catholics  must  respond,  "Heterosexual  and  homosexual  masturbation,  birth  control,  fornication,  and  adultery,  including  fornication  between  gays  under  cover  of  marriage,  are  all  sinful,  and  must  be  punished  criminally  to  an  equal  extent."

In  other  words,  are  "heteroes"  entitled  to  a  "free  ride,"  sexually  at  the  same  time  God  punishes  gays?   No.  If  you  are  hetero  and  expect  a  free  ride  every  time  you  slip  on  a  rubber,  then  if  gays  want  to  "play  marriage,"  or  if  society  wants  to  experiment  with  the  marriage  concept,  then  God  bless!

Because  adults  having  sex  with  kids  is  not  morally  justifiable  under  any  analysis,  then  gays  "doing  it"  with  the  young  must  always  be  severely  punished.

Most  will  be  thoroughly  dissatisfied  with  how  I  handle  Catholic  sexual  ethics  in  this  article:
(a)  Humanae  Vitae  is  right  --  Scripture  says  so  4  times!;  (b)  Catholic  priests  hiding  their  homosexuality  under  the  disguise  of  having  a  vocation,  caught  "doing  it"  to  young  male  victims,  should  be  very  severely  punished!  The  Church  must  cooperate  with  the  prosecution.  Catholic  bishops  caught  abetting  the  gay  offenders  should  be  very  severely  punished!  The  Church  must  cooperate  with  the  prosecution;  (c)  the  Supreme  Court  decision  in  favor  of  gay  marriage  is  illegal;
(d)  however,  Catholics  enjoying  freedom  from  criminal  prosecution  of  their  sex  sins  owe  a  hearty  "welcome"  to  their  gay  neighbors  engaging  in  sex  under  cover  of  gay  marriage,  sham  or  not.  Christ  hates  hypocrites  most  of  all.

None  of  this  will  staunch  the  chronic  bleeding  of  contributing  parishioners  so  badly  needed  to  support  the  Church  in  our  current  age.   However,  I  believe  that  we  have  entered  the  time  of  the  2  Thessalonians  2  "apostasy"  --  the  so-called  Great  Falling  Away.  So,  don't  fret  as  things  fall  apart.  Just  be  faithful.










Tuesday, July 25, 2017

DECEASED SOUL VISITS MAGNOLIA

Many  years  ago,  in  1978,  before  I  married  or  lived  in  Magnolia,  I  had  a  minor  stroke  and  a  Near  Death  Experience  in  which  I  was  told  that  I  had  "too  much  to  do"  before  I  would  be  allowed  to  die.  Although  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  my  wife  Rise`'s  subsequent  interpretation  --  that  what  I  had  to  do  was  IMPROVE  MYSELF,  MORALLY  --  was  the  correct  one,  some  other  things  did  occur  which  could  qualify  as  things  left  to  do.

One  was  my  effort  to  evangelize  to  a  client  I'll  call  Joe  Doakes.  When  I  was  appointed  by  the  Court  to  represent  him,  I  knew  immediately,  from  my  experience  with  other  clients,  what  I  was  looking  at  --  a  male  who  had  been  sexually  abused  by  his  father  when  he  was  young.  When  I  told  his  paramour  this,  she  roared  with  laughter  and  said  I  was  wrong.  Years  later,  she  called  me  and  told  me  that  Joe's  brother  had  shocked  her  by  confirming  that  I  was  right.

I  ended  up  representing  Joe  in  about  10  cases.  We  did  pretty  well  in  those  cases.  Joe,  however,  was  one  who  did  not  know  to  not  bite  the  hand  that  fed  him.  On  one  occasion,  on  returning  from  court,  I  found  him  inside  my  home,  removing  my  favorite  china  closet  from  the  living  room  after  falsely  convincing  my  son  that  he  had  bought  it  from  me!  

On  another  occasion  he  stopped  by  my  house  to  borrow  $50  from  me.  A  heroin  abuser,  he  was  obviously  in  withdrawal.  I  said,  "No,  Joe.  I'm  not  going  to  subsidize  your  habit.  However,  take  advantage  of  your  withdrawal.  Instead  of  feeding  the  habit,  let's  get  you  into  a  program  now  --  today."  He  said,  "Pete,  that's  a  good  looking  station  wagon  you  have  there,"  implying  that  if  I  didn't  pay  him,  he'd  steal  it.  "Joe,"  I  answered,  "Don't  do  that  to  me.  That's  so  low."

As  soon  as  he left,  I  drove  to  our  local  car  parts  store  and  bought  The  Club,  that  heavy  hardened  steel  bar  for  steering  wheels.  That  night  I  had  to  represent  someone  in  night  court  in  a  neighboring  town,  and  did  not  return  home  until  1:30  a.m.  I  sat  in   the  family  room  and  stripped  down  to  my  knickers  to  prepare  for  bed  while  I  watched  late  night  TV.  At  around  1:45  a.m.  a  car  with  its  headlights  on  pulled-up  outside  my  house,  and  I  heard  several  male  voices  arguing.  I  looked  out  the  window,  and  saw  about  5  men  standing  around  the  station  wagon,  pointing  at  The  Club on  the  steering  wheel.  I  jumped  up  and  clad  only  in  my  jockey  shorts  threw  open  the  door  and  jumped  off  the  front  stoop  and  started  screaming  like  a  lunatic.  The  thugs,  more  aware  of  the  dynamics  of  the  situation  than  I  --  if  I  caused  their  arrest,  they  would have  someone  do   something  like  burn  down  my  house,  right?  --  just  ignored  me.  Then  I  heard  Joe  Doakes  in  a  car  stopped  on  Warwick  Road,  in  front  of  our  house,  screaming,  "Steal  it!  Steal  the  f-----g  car!,"  obviously  unaware  of  the  problem  of  The  Club  on  the  steering  wheel.  The  thugs  decided  that  The  Club  made  the  car  too  hard  to  steal,  got  into  their  car  and  drove  away.  Then  Joe  Doakes  drove  away.

A  few  years  later,   Joe  called  me  from  a  hospice  in  Burlington  County  and  said  that   he  was  dying  of  brain  cancer.  He  had  always  insisted,  to  his  paramour,  that  he  was  "Catholic"  whenever  she  tried  to  entice  him  into  her  Protestant  assembly.  So,  I  asked  Joe  if  he  wanted  me  to  arrange  for  a  priest  to  give  him  Last  Rites.  "Sure!"  he  said,

"In  addition  to  an  anointing,  it  involves  a  final  confession  and  receipt  of  the  Eucharist,"   I  explained.   "Don't  worry  --  the  priest'll  help  you  through  the  confession.  But  I  have  to  warn  you  about  something,  Joe.  The  confession  is  no  good,  and  what  the  priest  does  has  no  effect,  unless  you  tell  him  your  worst  sins,  the ones  you're  really  ashamed  of.  You  know  what  I'm  talking about.  Otherwise,  you're  giving  evil  a  place  to  hide  in  you.  I'll  send  you  a  priest  who  is  a  friend,  and  you  let  him  know  how  you'll  need  help  with  your  confession.  Okay?"

"It  sounds  great,  Pete,"  he  responded.

I  sent  Fr.  Jerome  Romanowski,  who  is  dead,  now.  He  later  told  me,  "Obviously,  Pete,  the  Seal  of  Confession  prohibits  me  from  revealing  any  details,   but  I  can  tell  you  that  Joe's  confession  was  the  most  amazing  confession  of  my  career."  I  thought,  "Good!  Joe  swallowed  his  pride  and  did  the  difficult  thing  in  making  his  confession!"

And  Joe  died  shortly  thereafter.

The  other  incident  in  which  I  think  I  had  spiritual  impact  was  a  case  involving  a  deathbed  will.  My  typist,  whom  I  can  not  identify  because  her  name  is  so  distinctive,  referred  to  me  her  sister-in-law  Linda,  who  lay  dying  of  cancer  in  Garden  State  Hospital.  After  the  will  signing,  I  asked  her  my  client  if  she  was  Catholic,  and  did  she  want a priest for  "Last  Rites."

"I'm  not  Catholic,"  she  said,  "but  I'll  talk  to  you."

I  explained  that  "Last  Rites,"  in  addition  to  an  anointing,  involved  a  combination  of  a  final  confession  and  apology  to  God,  followed  by  receipt  of  the  Eucharist.

"Can  you  help  me  with  the  final  apology  to  God  for  my  sins?"  she  asked.

"Absolutely,"  I  said.  And  I  had  her  pray  privately  for  help  from  the  Holy  Spirit  to  be  mindful  of  her  sins,  and  sorry  for  them,  and  I  had  her  repeat  the  words  of  the  Catholic  Act  of  Contrition  after  me  --  an  invalid  substitute  for  the  Sacrament  of  Reconciliation  if  a  priest  is  available, if  one  is  Catholic,  but  a  good  alternative,  surely,  for  those  outside  the  Catholic  fold.

After  the  Act  of  Contrition,  I  left  Linda  alone.  Her  sister-in-law,  my  typist,  passed  me  going  up  to   Linda's  bedroom  as  I  was  leaving  the  hospital.

The  next  morning,  as  my  family  sat  at  the  breakfast  table  chomping  on  our  cereal,  my  middle  son  Reid,  who  was  about  5  at  the  time,  excitedly  said,  "Mom,  Dad,  did  you  see  the  bright  light  outside  our  windows!?  My  shade  was  up,  so  that   it  lit  up  my  entire  room!  I  looked  at  the  clock  beside  my  bed  after  it  went  away.  It  was  about  1:15  a.m."

When  I  went  upstairs  to  check,   I  saw  that  only  Reid's  window  shade  had  been  up  that  night.

A  little  later  that  morning,  my  typist  called  and  said,  "Pete,  I  was  with  Linda  when  she died  last  night.  She  was  in  great  distress  trying  to  stay  alive.  I  whispered  into  her  ear,  'Linda,  let  go.  God  is  waiting  for  you.'  And  she  did.  She  died  in  front  of  me."

"What  time?"  I  asked.

"1:15  a.m."

So,  here's  the  question:  Did  Linda  stop  by  the  house,  on  her  way  up,  to  say  "Thank  you?"

I  think  so.






Saturday, April 29, 2017

HE NEVER PROMISED US A ROSE GARDEN

The  Church  has  been  a  special  challenge  to  us  all,  especially  me.   The  priest  sex  cases  are  a  terrible  stumbling  block  for  millions.  And  I  struggled  to  find  a  parish  which  would  sponsor  --  give  us  a  meeting  room  for  --  un-programmed  Bible  study.   If  no  priest  or  deacon  is  avaible  to  mentor  the  Bible  study  in  a  hands-on  way,  all  the  Church  will  tolerate  anymore  is  watching  television  --  watching  Bible  study  experts  giving  recorded  speeches.

Respecting  the  priest  sex  cases,   Father  Judge  High  School  --  my  high  school  --  in  the  early  1970s  was  one  of  the  first  cases  to  hit  the  headlines  with  news  of  cases  involving  sexual  abuses  in  our  era.  The  football  coach,  Mr.  Degnan,    and  a  priest  named  Fr.  Robert  Hermley  were  arrested  for  sharing   male  students  between  themselves.  I  at  first  had  trouble  believing  Philadelphia  Bulletin  and  Inquirer  descriptions  of  case  after  case  in  the  Phildelphia  area,  but  I  finally  became  a  "believer,"  when  it  dawned  on  me  that  no  one  is  going  to  falsely  volunteer  that  he  dropped  his  pants  and  bent  over  for  a  priest,  in  the  hope  of  winning  money  in  a  lawsuit.  Such  a  life-changing  admission  just  isn't  worth  it.

I've  tried  to  talk  to  priests  about  the  whole  phenomenon,  but  there  seems  to  be  a  general  policy  of  silence  on  the  subject  in  place,  consistent  with  diocesan  offices'  dishonest  denials  and  settlement  payments  in  return  for  silence  --  an  overall  policy  of  endless  stonewalling  with  explosive,  highly  destructive  results.

Damage  to  the  Church  from  the  phenomenon  seems  massive.   I  have  been  looked-at  like  I  am  crazy  when  I  tell  people,  "I  am  Catholic."

During  this  time,  I  fell  in  love  with  the  Bible  and  with  Bible  study.  I  ran  Bible  study  for  about  15  years  at  St.  Gregory's  Church  in  Magnolia.  The  pastor  tried  to  derail  our  group  a  few  times,  but  failed.  (There  were  about  30  of  us  in  the  group,  too  many  to  disrupt  easily.)  Finally,  he  simply  banned  us  from  the  church  premises  just  before  a  new  pastor  took  over,  as  though  sorely  embarrassed  at  our  utterly  orthodox  program.  (The  pastor  used  to  sit  in  on  the  sessions,  waiting  for  doctrinal  errors  to  crop  up.  Once,  when  I  said  that  Mary  "died"  before  her  assumption,  he  thought  he  had  me  and  he  stood  and  accused  me  of  "heresy"  in  public,  to  the  Bible  study  group.    I  privately  read  to  the  pastor  the  verses  from  the  assumption  encyclical  verifying  that  Pope  Pius  XII  affirmatively  taught  that  Mary  "died," using  that  word  in  the  official  Vatican  translation,   and  he  privately  acknowledged  his  error.)  For  several  years  I  searched  for  a  parish  interested  in  Bible  study,  without  success.   Lying  was  the  chief  tool  used  to  put  me  off  while  I  paid  my  parish  envelope --  "Pete,  I'll  meet  with  you  next  week ..."  "Pete,  I  have  to  break  my  appointment ..."  One  pastor  broke  his  appointment  about  18  times.

So,  why  do  I  call  myself  "Catholic"?

Well,  first,  Christ  foreshadowed  a  few  times  that  the  Church  would  generate  evil.  He  said  to  Peter,  5  minutes  after  appointing  him  head  of  the  Church  ("You  are  Peter  and  upon  this  rock etc."),  "GET  BEHIND  ME,  YOU  SATAN!"  When  Peter  tried  to  walk  on  water  he  succeeded  for  a  few  seconds  and  then  sank  in.  Sinking  into  water  is  a  typological  symbol  of  being  sinful.  (Remember  the  story  of demonically  possessed  pigs  drowning  themselves.)  And  then  Peter  denies  Christ  3  times  shortly  AFTER  a  clear  warning  to  him  that  he  would.

Also,  in  2  Thessalonians  2  Paul  warns  of  "the  apostasy"  to  precede  the  end  of  time.  Since  Paul  was  surrounded  by  "apostasies"  at  the  time,  Bible  commentators  assume  that  Paul  is  referring  to  something  enormous.  In  our  current  day  and  age,  vocations  have  plummeted.   Millions  whose  faith  has  been  made  cold  by  the  media  generally  and  the  sex  cases  in  particular  are  leaving  the  Church  annually.  Catholic  schools  --  the  Church's  biggest  evangelizing  tool  --  and  churches  are  shutting  down  everywhere.   I  believe  that  we  are  experiencing  "the  apostasy"  --  what  our  Fundamentalist  brethren  refer  to  as  "the  great  falling  away"  --  right  now,  as  I  write  this.

Nonetheless,   Christ's  purpose,  in  giving  us  an  imperfect  Church,  and  in  predicting  its  sins  and  through  Paul  its  eclipse,  was  to  prepare  us  for  the  future,  not  to  de-commission  the  Church.  It  has  to  do  with  the  nature  of  the  sacraments.  The  sacraments  can  operate  despite  the  imperfections  of  the  Church,  even  in  the  process  of  collapse,  despite  our  era's  ignorant,  mean-spirited  priests.  The  sacraments  are  a  generous  gift,  by  God,  of  shortcuts  to  salvation,  administered  by  His  officially  commissioned  organization,  the  Church  --  as  easy  as  it  can  get.  I  have  no  interest  in  leaving  the  "salvation  machine"  established  by  Christ.


Tuesday, April 25, 2017

I NEEDED A GYNECOLOGIST FOR MY EAR

Years  ago,  the  virulent  disease  MRSA  entered  our  house.  I  was  last  in  the  family  to  get  it.  It  nearly  killed  me.  The  powerful  antibiotics  given  to  me  at  the  hospital  to  save  my  life  killed  every  germ  in  my  body.  When  that  happens,  it  opens  the  floodgates  for  mold  infections  --  unaffected  by  antibiotics.  Suddenly,  I  had  a  wicked  ear  infection.

Dr.  Todd  Schachter,  DO,  our  family  doctor,  referred  me  to  an  ear,  nose  and  throat  specialist  in  Voorhees,  New  Jersey.  The  latter  doctor's  treatment  dragged  on  and  on  and  on,  for  week  after  week.  I'd  come  in   for  my  appointment,  shell-out  my  deductible,  bend  my  head  sideways  for  carefully-administered  eardrops,  and  go  home  with  cotton  in  my  ears  and  a  prescription  for  ear  drops  at  home.

When  this  went  on  for  3  months,  I  became  suspicious.  Was  the  ears,  nose  and  throat  specialist  just  running  up  the  tab?  I  had  listened  carefully  when  he  said  that  I  had  a  Candida  albicans  infection  in  my  ear  --  a  common  yeast  infection.  I  checked  the  label  on  my  ear  drops  --  the  concentration  of  anti-yeast  medication  was  1%  of  that  if  my  wife's  vaginal  medication.  I  thought,  "WHAAAAAAT?"

So,  I  put  a  single  dab  of  vaginal  yeast  medication  of  a  cotton  swab,  spread  the  medication  in  my  ear  canal,  and  slept  on  it.

The  next  day,  my  Candida  infection  was  cured.

One  day  after  that,  I  had  my  appointment  with  the  ear,  nose  and  throat  specialist.  "Huh!"  he  said  as  he  examined  me,  "Your  infection's  all  gone!  How?"  As  though  he  knew  that  it  shouldn't  have  been.

When  I  told  Dr.  Schachter  the  story,  he  burst  out  laughing  and  said,   "I  should  have  referred  you  to  a  gynecologist."