Will The Circle Be Unbroken?

I just came out of mother’s Catholic funeral Mass, with brother Fausto presiding. Her six children were all at her bedside eight days earlier when she crossed the swaying bridge to Valhalla. I had bitterness written all over my face, a look that I remember seeing once on my maternal grandmother’s face, in church, as a small child attempting to use the plain wooden pew as a climbing apparatus. It was the same look that mother was capable of.

The funeral mass was in the church of my own childhood, even though Monotheism and I permanently separated in my first week of life, I now know.

Though enjoyable for us all mesmerization is no defense in the law (re Aggravated Child Abuse): full stop. My own bitterness toward that clubhouse comes down to one word; nonfeasance (mother was 28 years old when I was born. they forgot to tell her that Christians don’t skin the genitalia of their newborn children). It is the same word that I used in my latest filing with the federal court, in my lawsuit against the state of Florida and now I realize that I could have listed the Catholic church as defendant, too.

Fausto was getting his dopamine fix, as were others there, but the faith is pure fantasy without application of the message from the infant child; garbled by the adult Jesus, but decipherable nonetheless (I cite the Gospel of Thomas, Part 4… to non-believers).

The social stupefaction of Monotheism (the psychosocial childishness + visiousness) is the exact same as that of the Nazis of WWII.


How bitter I feel.

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