Giuseppe Filotto Cross

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Only 14%…

Of Italians have a functioning brain.

Still… way ahead of the UK… and the Nordics.

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Is Ann Barnhardt ready to face the truth?

I stopped reading Ann regularly after it became clear to me that the main reason she would not “see” the truth about the Sedevacantist position was due to her own ego.

Of course, she calls us the 1958 Sedevantists, to differentiate us from herself who presumably is a 2022 “Sedevacantist” (just! As Ratzinger died on 31st December 2022).

As I have blogged before, the ONLY objection Ann could ever muster up against us ‘58 Sedes is that an Interregnum of 65 years was “too long”.

But despite my asking repeatedly, she would never answer the obvious question:

When, exactly, does it become too long, Ann?

There is not, nor has there ever been, any rule in Catholic Canon Law, dogma, or anywhere else, that puts a time limit on an interregnum.

So I ask again, Ann, when does it become too long? I really want to know. And as a follow-up question, on what basis do you give your answer? Whatever your answer might be.

The Catholic Church believes and acts on reason, and logic, as well as faith of course, but unlike heretical Protestants, or schismatic Eastern “Orthodox” we so not invoke the blind, idiotic, mask of false “faith” to hide behind whenever simple reason indicates an unpalatable truth.

We can make an educated guess that since Ann has been a Ratzingerist since 2016, which is 58 years after 1958, the “too long” for Ann, is probably between 2 years (the seat of Peter was completely empty for at least this long before, with no physical Pope whatsoever to fill it, real or fake) and 58.

But I still want to know the exact number. Honour would seem to indicate that Ann should expressly clarify this before Bergoglio kicks the bucket. But she is a woman after all, so it’s a little u fair of me to hold her to manly standards of telling the objective truth.

At any rate, my friend Adam Piggott has informed me that Ann may begin to be coming around. She linked to absolute Sedevacantist Steven Speray’s blog and in her latest one she wrote this:

The Bergoglian Antipapacy is right there out in the open, upending doctrine as if such a thing could be done, spewing heresy on a near daily basis, and they just can’t see it. Now don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of people and prelates who DO see it, and choose to do nothing, which is far worse. But I’d say the multitude just can’t bring their intellect into conformity with the obvious, obvious, reality staring them in the face. Of course, the ’58 Sedes would say the same, which puts them more in the right than anyone who would cede authority and obedience to this demon worshipper in white.

So we went from “crazy schismatics” to “more right than everyone except Ann herself”.

Ah, the hubris, I tell ya. Still, it is a shift, of sorts, and God acts in mysterious ways, so who knows, Ann may see the light yet. I sincerely hope so.

I also have received emails from a guy who I blogged about before who went from “Bergoglio is the Pope!” to “Ratzinger is Pope!” To now…

“…errr… okay… maybe… like… you were right all along…”

I respect such people immensely. As we have seen, most humans are utterly incapable of overcoming their own cognitive dissonance and blind spots. So when it happens, it is at least a minor miracle. It’s probably the origin of the saying that when the faithful remain faithful God is pleased, but when an atheist or other lost sheep converts, all of Heaven sings.

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Stats

At the start of the year I said on a livestream that I expected to outdo all previous years for blog traffic and that hitting 50k views in 2023 would be easily achievable. We’ll have done that by tomorrow and the blog is on track for at least 100k views by year end. More if you guys spread the word or share links with friends.

I think I would daily visit my blog if I wasn’t writing it, probably even if I had different interests and ideas. If nothing else, I think I provide perspectives that at times few people have considered.

Besides… zealot’s blogs are always a fun read.

Anyway, I hope you’re all enjoying it and if you have topics discussed here you want to see more of, let me know.

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Blue Bloods – Best SF show on Prime

As you guys know, I like science fiction.

Well, I just discovered the top SF series possibly of all time. It’s called Blue Bloods and is set in a fictional, alternate universe version of New York, starring Tom Selleck.

In this universe the Reagan family are all Irish cops or lawyers and it’s fantastic!

These are not spoilers because you get this right from the start:

  • The Irish are not semi-functional alcoholics.
  • The cops are honest.
  • The Commissioner of police AND the mayor are honest and honourable.
  • Honour amongst the cops, the mayor, the police Commissioner and the female prosecutor comes before politics, personal gain and so on.
  • The Reagan family always goes to Church on Sundays and has Sunday lunch together.

They even get the IQ of the main detective right, you know how cops can’t have anything that’s 120 IQ or higher? Well, no danger of that, Danny Reagan regularly acts as an entitled power-hungry macho wanna be, and screws up regularly. For example, losing the undercover cops he’s supposed to be following, and so they get shot, making idiotic rash decisions, treating everyone like shit, including his wife, engaging in a firefight (with warning to the bad guy first!) with his entire family in the car behind him as backstop.

It’s glorious I tell you. Always feel-good, and the good guys always win.

Honestly, the premise is so far removed from reality, yet the setting so familiar, it’s quite the concept, I tell you.

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The difference between Politicians and Men

No further commentary needs to be added, but so as to avoid the parasites from continuing to rise to positions of power, we should instate a rule, one I came up with almost 30 years ago, that in order to lead, a man should have had some years of martial arts and some years of being a farmer too.

I had no wish or intent to be a farmer when I thought of that rule up, but now that I am trying my had at it, I can verify it was the right call.

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Rich Poverty

I read on SG yesterday an interesting comment about how moving into a rural area where you purchase land makes you wealthier than working and living in a city.

It sounds counter-intuitive at first, and I am not sure how true this is for others, but it is true for me.

After I wrote The Face on Mars, at age 26, and after doing my own book tour in Cape Town where I lived, in a way that would be impossible now, and was insane back then, I scraped up enough money to put down a deposit on two pieces of land in a little village about an hour away up the coast. It was a place just a couple hundred meters or less from the beach with guaranteed views of the ocean. There was very little there but the people that had homes there clearly had money. They were holiday homes mostly.

My life went in too many weird directions, and that land lay there for another 25 years before one of the plots was sold. My girlfriend from back then had paid the regular payments while I had thrown chinks of money at it in blocks from time to time. As we had bought these together at the time with my deposits and her regular payments, one was rightfully hers and one mine.

Her steady work meant she always did the monthly instalments, my way of living meant that at times I would pay off large amounts in one go. When we did the accounting it was pretty close to 50-50 with my payments being a bit more, but I was extremely aware that her regularity was what had allowed us to own those plots.

The one belonging to me was sold and that money used as a deposit on the place we are in now. But in the intervening 25 years or so, despite me making stupid money at times, I did not build up any other assets. There are probably “reasons”, but the reality is that I had life route changes that being rather drastic meant starting from scratch again a number of times. And I had not considered having children until my early 40s and then when I had, that didn’t go well at all. So, in essence, I was mostly only having to look after me. And who cares too much about that? Live frugally and build up assets? Or go see some exotic place, buy a custom rifle, go on holiday with a pretty girl, live in a place that has a view because it makes a difference to your mood, tell an employer he can shove his job when he acts like an asshole, and so on.

My freedom of mind has always had priority over the supposed success of the secular world.

Now, things are different. My freedom of mind is intimately tied to having as much time with my family as possible, which means a huge cut in salary. And this property is certainly worth more than any assets I even remotely had before. So, while from a day to day perspective I am a lot poorer, from an objective perspective, I am worth more than I ever was, and what is more, my descendants are stating out with something as soon as I drop dead. Which is of extreme importance.

How to go from here to building an empire* is… well… you know, one of those details that I have skipped over most of my life when making drastic life changes, but then, I’m still here, and I came through all those other times, so… there must be a way.

I know there is certainly my Will in it. And you know what they say about when there is one of those…

So, it is true. At least for me. Easy? No.

Potentially catastrophic for many? Yes.

Worth it, risk wise? Absolutely Yes.

As I say, that’s how it is for me. Let me know how it is for you.

* I personally have no wish for one, I’d be happy to live frugally writing my ideas and reading and shooting and maybe sailing a bit in my old age. But the world of mass murdering clowns has decided to try to wipe people like me (and you too, whoever you are) out, so, someone has to start building up the beginnings of hardcore Catholic City-States. Doing so is a worthwhile endeavour, not just for me, but, far more importantly, for my children and the children of those like me. It doesn’t matter if there is an apocalypse or not. It is the right direction in any case. In every case. And if my predictions of financial collapse are even remotely accurate, it is in fact imperative to do so.

I hope I will meet those of you who think similarly down the road. I know something is starting to stir here.

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Clown World Comparatives

So… I can really see this becoming a thing:

I saw and heard earlier today a fake video of a somewhat known internet guy with fake audio.

This was not done by a hollywood studio, but a guy in his basement with a normal pc.

It was obvious from the words spoken that it wasn’t the real guy, but you couldn’t tell from the voice. And this had been done by simply training an AI by feeding it a few hours of the guy’s audio.

It reminded me of the first series of Altered Carbon (I didn’t watch the second or whatever came after), and how unexpected it was that they had Catholics in that series that would choose death over their version of “endless life” which reminded me in turn of the utterly inhuman Star Trek “beam me up technology” which clearly destroys the original human and rebuilds some soulless simulacra of a human being every time it’s used.

And then there is this utter insanity:

Which in my opinion totally justifies putting tarring and feathering back on the law books as a citizen inspired act of enforcing sanity and order.

Seriously, if these are our future options… well…

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Some Days …

You know the song There’ll be days like this, I like the Van Morrison version.

Of course, some days… it anything but that.

You get up and the sky is criss-crossed by chemtrails by the soulless, unloved, disgusting sacks of shit pretending to be humans, and I mean the pilots along with their puppet masters.

And you don’t have a crate of cheap stinger missiles from the “war” in Ukraine to take the fuckers out in a blaze of glory throughout the early morning hours.

And you wake up with the same bastard headache you had when you went to bed, despite the 800mg of ibuprofen last night. The chemtrails are probably doing it.

Or the mould. Because there is mould in the bathroom.

And the bedroom.

And one of the other rooms.

So you steel yourself for a messy day of sandpapering and vacuuming and fucking dust everywhere and then the stench of mould-killer stuff after.

And the sander is out of sand-paper. And the hardware store is closed until 4pm

And the bastard gasifier is still not doing what it should because you need to re-adapt the blower and probably the filter and maybe do a couple other things, and you wonder, why did no one from WW2 leave detailed notes on how to build these things?

And THEN you find out a major clusterfuck thanks to trusting someone in IT. And you KNOW you should know better. But you did it anyway, so 2 years of contacts from interested parties just weren’t forwarded at all. Nor their messages saved. Only their emails in the logs.

But murder is not the answer they say…

And the kid’s trampoline has a piece that broke and you need to fix it cause they love that thing.

And it’s only lunchtime.

And you try to pray.

And you remember that song… there’ll be days like this.

Yeah. but it wasn’t mama telling me about the days.

It was dad. And he had more days of this sort than most. And the one thing I either learnt, or got from DNA or figured out somehow is that when there are damned dog days like this…

You keep punching.

You reload and keep firing.

You pick up the hammer or the screw-driver, or the drill, or the grinder, or whatever, and you keep going.

And focus. Cause nothing spills blood more easily than a pissed off attitude and a tired or sloppy attention span working with power tools.

So, yeah, there are days like this.

And the correct attitude is that described in various stanzas of the poem IF.

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
 
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
 
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
 
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

And my mama never told me about the other days, the Van Morrison song days either. In fact, I like that song because I figured out on my own that they existed a little before it came out in 1995.

And it’s important to remember that. Especially when you have days like the one I’m having today.

You know what grinds us down?

Hope.

People forget that in the badly mangled version of the Myth of Pandora, which is the most popular —because people are idiots— they say it is hope that leaves her jar of miseries last.

In truth, in the actual myth, it is first of all Pandora herself that is the plague on mankind, representing woman in general, and later, her jar, filled with all sorts ills for humanity as punishment for the stealing of fire by Prometheus. And in that version, hope never leaves the jar.

But, at any rate, if we lived more in accordance with Catholic faith, we would go about our days, Van Morrison version or shitty life version, with Nec Spe, Nec Metu.

No Hope, No Fear.

You see it is when our hopes get dashed that we suffer. Because our hopes are usually an avoiding of pain, which is, of course, motivated by Fear. And if you live trying to avoid your fears by hoping to do so, somehow, well… you’re definitely going to suffer.

But if you have no hopes to be dashed, and no fear to terrorise you into having “hopes”, well, then you are free. And while shitty days and Van Morrison days are not the same, if you have no hope and no fear, they are not quite as far apart as if you do.

So.

Off I go to walk the rest of this day, however it turns out.

May your days be more Van Morrison days than not.

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Charlie gets properly honoured just before coronation

True British Nationalists decided to show their view of Charlie. Or perhaps of what some newspapers implied years ago he prefers as a morning tonic.
It’s unclear, but what is not in doubt is the Patriotism of the Perpetrators citizens of England.
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The Lying BBC vs Stew Peters

I have wondered a few times about Stew Peters because I noticed a couple of little errors here and there, HOWEVER, given this interview with the BBC, I think if nothing else he is the first and so far ONLY media personality anywhere that I have seen address the bioweapons and mass-murderers as what they are, that is, bioweapons and mass-murderers. And whatever gatekeeping I wondered he might be doing is, I think for now at least, more than answered for and probably just due to my paranoia heightened sense of security.

In fact, it is absolutely entirely possible that the relatively minor errors I noticed were actually simple mistakes, one such is apparently present in this video, where it seems Peters may have referred to one sportsman as a victim of the genetic serums when he had in fact died earlier. It is a bit of a big one, but it’s the sort of thing that can happen when producing a film or writing a book. Especially if it’s a team effort. I certainly have made a couple of errors in the Face on Mars, (I had originally written that the Pyramid of the Sun was in Peru! Obviously it’s in Mexico, and I knew that, but I was thinking about the Nazca lines and so…like I said, it happens) but always issued errata as soon as I became aware of them and I corrected them in the 2014 version. Of course, ANY tiny error WILL be used by the enemies of truth to try and invalidate your whole position and there should be no question that this should not be allowed.

I especially LOVE how he doesn’t let them dodge anything and calls them to task and treats them with all the contempt they deserve.

When talking about the American football player and he says: “…I don’t know if he’s alive, I saw a guy pretending to be him, going to the White House, supposedly talking to the guy pretending to be president, but I don’t know he’s alive, no one has seen him or talked to him. Have you seen him? have you talked to him?”

It’s really quite beautiful. Enjoy it.

But…but… surely not, right, they couldn’t have been fake vaccines, err… you mean: genetic serums that we have known for 40 years do NOT work. And which we now know were created as a fake “vaccine” to a bioweapon that Fauci himself asked for. You know, that “gain of function” he requested even after the DoD nixed it. And that Bill Gates paid for the coronavirus to be engineered back in 2015 via the Pirbright institute. And paid Fauci. And paid the people in Wuhan too.

Surely it couldn’t have all been planned ahead of time. Right?

Yeah… about that…

If you STILL believe the mass media after this, all I can do is suggest that you make use of Canadian “healthcare”; specifically their euthanasia program.

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