The Dark Humour of the Muse

Matriarchy versus Patriarchy (8)

Four priest abusers, the Catholic Knights, and an organisation of Catholic women seems like an impossible number of predators for a child to survive and yet remain sane.

When my memories first came up over several years, my initial reaction was – how the hell did I survive? It seemed impossible, which is why I rigorously checked every single one of the abusers to ensure my facts about them were correct.

They are.

Dave Sharp’s life was tragically damaged by such abusers from the Catholic Church (see last week’s post ‘This is Church Business!’) and there are numerous further examples of others who have been scarred for life by the Catholics. And Catholics simply don’t care. If it ever comes up in conversation, they will quickly change the subject. Why? Because they have been conditioned to protect the Church at all costs. I remember that mantra so well from my childhood. The Church must always, always come first. Damaged Survivors are regrettable collateral damage so the Church can be protected and continue its good work. What good work is that? I’ve asked Catholics. No response.

But there are numerous Survivors, like myself, who escaped the Catholic paedophiles comparatively unscathed.

Just as many French kids survived the cruel Nazi occupation of their country and were relatively unscathed.

That’s how I saw my childhood from around the age of six. I was living under a kind of Nazi occupation. The Catholics were the Nazis who had to be reluctantly obeyed, but outwitted at every opportunity, and I could escape from them once I was old enough.

Thankfully, I also had the Muse on my side to protect and guide me. As an autonomous psychic entity or energy, she easily outguns her Catholic counterpart – which would be the Holy Ghost.

For a start, she’s real. I’m not so sure about HG.

The Holy Ghost’s role will be familiar to Catholics or ex-Catholics. Namely, that a Catholic’s body is ‘the temple of the Holy Ghost’. So it doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to God, which means it actually belongs to the Catholic Church, the priests, who ensure it must be pure at all times.

The priests or their representatives have complete control over your body.

This means you cannot take any pleasure in sex, even, after marriage, which is purely for procreation. These exact words were said to a Catholic classmate of mine by his Catholic fiancée. That’s bad enough, but his fiancée also happened to be drop dead gorgeous. Poor chap.

So ‘Lie back and think of Jesus’ was the command given to Catholic girls. Or, as a female friend once said to me, regretting her inhibitions, ‘The nuns did a good job on me.’

All this tallies with Dr Ammon Hillman’s research and his conclusions. Indeed, some Catholic websites still acknowledge their disapproval of the pleasures of the flesh today and confirm enjoying sex is a sin. And onanism is a mortal sin. But don’t imagine it’s all safely in the past. In the war of the matriarchy versus the patriarchy, Catholics are on call to put the clock back whenever Catholic VP J. D. Vance and co. gives the order. ‘Cat lovers’, women who choose not to have children, are especially in his sights. The reality of The Handmaid’s Tale is closer to today than we might think.

So these Catholic women I’ve referred to walked their purity talk and carried out the edicts of Tertullian. Namely:

‘The Christian man does not see the female form with his redeemed eyes. His soul is blind to sexual allure.’

Long before puberty blockers, they had successful physical ways of putting young boys off sex. What might today be called ‘aversion therapy’. And I’m not talking about bromide tablets, although they were commonplace and also given to us children at that time.

These Catholic women went in for something rather more ‘hands on’. They were middle-aged female volunteers from the Catholic Women’s League. Presumably such women were chosen, rather than men, to put boys off girls. Obviously the CWL will deny this and, of course, there’s no written account of their work in their handbook, which reads like a Stepford Wives repair manual.

It’s probably ‘too much information’ to go into graphic detail here, although I have absolutely no problem talking about it. Those women cost me a small fortune in therapy and a considerable amount of my time to make sense of and to exorcise their deeds from my mind. I still get the odd nightmare about them. So writing this post, for instance, cost me a bad night’s sleep. But it’s worth it, because it’s another Catholic crime that is barely known, is never spoken of and needs to be brought to light before it disappears into the archives of history and is forgotten. I don’t imagine that they’re still at it, but there will be other victims who will be too embarrassed to come forward.

Where to begin? Some few years ago I went through about two years of therapy to process the Catholics’ crimes. I chose an Irish therapist because I figured an English therapist would think I was batshit crazy when describing how Catholics really behave behind the scenes. The Irish therapist didn’t turn a hair. I was expecting to mainly process the priests and the Knights. Instead, to my surprise, I spent a good fifty per cent of my sessions talking about these crazy women. I was absolutely furious with them. I raged about them. I couldn’t get them out of my mind until I unpacked their strange ways and made complete sense of them.

Their strange ways fall into two time periods: when I was around eight, and then the age of puberty; around eleven to twelve years old.

At first I couldn’t understand why women would want to interfere with an eight-year-old boy. Then it slowly dawned on me.

Because I was abused by two priests at this time.

So I was acting out the priests’ abuse. Openly, innocently and graphically. As a form of ‘play’. It’s a normal, even typical, response and today the police and social services would immediately be alerted and swing into action.

But my mother, a devout Catholic who was not firing on all four cylinders, instead turned to local members of the Catholic Women’s League for help and advice. She was possibly worried, even alarmed by my ‘sinful’ exhibitionism. She would have blinded herself to the reason. Catholics are extremely good at this.

Volunteers from the CWL, the Catholic cavalry, galloped to her rescue, rather than mine. I obviously wasn’t the first eight-year-old to act out, so they knew exactly what to do. They had to suppress my rude, lewd and sinful behaviour at all costs. Not least because it could put two of their beloved priests in the dock.

So, with their tried and trusted ‘hands on methods’ they put a stop to it and prayed and admonished me to hate my own body. A Methodist Church hall they hired was the location. This seems rather unlikely as I always thought Catholics hated Methodists, but that’s my recollection. Presumably other ‘regular’ Catholic activities went on there at the same time. The Gothic building in question looked like Dracula’s castle to me, and anyone who knows Ipswich, Stoke Street and the nearby docks will probably recognise and agree with that description. That’s how I remember it as a little boy: Dracula’s Castle. And the CWL were the vampires.

Round two would have been around age eleven. Once more, the Catholic cavalry were called upon. Was it because I was already destined for the junior seminary? It may have been a factor but, at that age, a lot of Catholic boys would have been jerking off. It’s something Catholics would simply not tolerate. Onanism may be ‘So what?’ to normal people. Not to Catholics. It’s a big deal.

So the women’s expert ‘aversion’ services would have been in considerable demand to exorcise my evil acts. Remember, as Ammon Hillman’s work on Sacred Sodomy demonstrates, this is a religion which has a fanatical hatred of the human body. You can see my inspiration for Torquemada’s ‘Be Pure! Be Vigilant! Behave!’. ‘Sacred Onanism’ is thus the cure for evil Onanism.

The astonishing thing is that their ‘aversion therapy’ worked. Physically. And psychologically. Absolutely no doubt. Because, just a few years later, my disappointed fifteen-year-old girlfriend regaled my mates that jerking off didn’t work on me even though she was regarded as hot stuff. This surprised and amused my friends, who had no problems in that direction. I don’t recall being remotely embarrassed or humiliated by her revelation. Fifteen-year-olds tend to discuss these things openly, supportively, with curiosity and without shame.

But I had no explanation for my ‘block’ because I’d erased all my memories of the Catholic cavalry. Those enthusiastic women really knew what they were doing. They could actually restrict and inhibit a boy’s normal, healthy sex drive. Then get them to forget about it, probably with a stern warning to stay silent about ‘Church business’ on pain of going to Hell.

It took leaving home at sixteen and escaping this insanity for ‘normal service to be resumed’. And then I certainly made up for lost time.

But their plans didn’t go entirely as smoothly as they planned. Firstly, one of the women broke the rules. And, secondly, I resisted.

The woman was a wealthy Mrs Robinson from The Graduate look-alike with important business connections in Ipswich. She was a widow and was younger and decidedly more attractive than the others who were in late middle-age.

But, when it came to her turn to administer ‘aversion therapy’, she had a rather different agenda to the others, and saw me as an eight-year-old Benjamin. She seriously crossed the line.

When I threatened to tell all, she quickly lost her glamour and became the scariest of all of the women, making sinister death threats that have stayed with me for a lifetime.

She claimed she had made her younger daughter ‘disappear’ and that would be my fate, too, if I didn’t keep my mouth shut. So I did. I absolutely believed that this girl, who I knew well, was dead. Because she was no longer in Ipswich, that was for sure. Mrs Robinson was very convincing.

Then, as an adult, I found myself following the Madeleine McCann case for years in obsessive detail and couldn’t understand why I was so interested. I would check every morning for updates.

Finally, in the course of therapy I did a web search and was relieved to find the girl on Facebook. She was alive and well and happily married. I would guess that she had been sent away to boarding school and had thus ‘disappeared’. I immediately lost interest in the McCann case and rarely follow it anymore.

‘Mrs Robinson’ was one of the reasons why these women cost me so much time and money to process. Because her agenda was dirtier and different to the others, she totally phased and confused my memories. They took a lot of unravelling.

Once my rage and fear had been processed and I’d made sense of it all, it left a void. I was never going to get justice for these crimes. It was tough enough where the priests and the Knights were concerned. So what to do with my feelings?

In theory, according to bog-standard psychology, once the anger and fear have gone, then the sadness and the tears come.

Not in my case.

I began to see a funny side. Or rather the Muse saw the funny side.

I would say it is an important part of the healing process. But it sits uncomfortably in our Patriarchal age where, behind the scenes, the Archons rule and they have even less humour than the Mekon and his Treens. I portrayed the Archons in Sláine as stone robots.

The Patriarchy lacks humour because, ultimately, it is anti-life, like the Archons.

Look, for example, at this brief clip of Ammon Hillman in debate with a Christian Exorcist. The discussion mirrors what I’m relating here. Look how miserable the Exorcist is, driven by the Archons, and how alive Ammon is, driven by the Muse.

My Catholic women would have spoken in a similar grim and menacing tone as they tried to exorcise the devil of passion within me.

It’s hilarious. The Muse is the source for all black comedy.

Thus, as altar boys, we formed the rhubarb club, because we knew it was all shit, and laughed at the paedophile crimes of the Catholic Church, joked about shipwrecked sailors fleeing from paedophile monks, and fried onions in the thurifer so the Church smelt like a transport cafe. Her comedy helped us through.

So I’m visualising these ageing women fervently praying to the Holy Ghost to make boys pure again as they jerk them off to stop them jerking off. Their leader was the Church organist (of course!) as they queued up for their onerous, or rather onanism duties.

It’s hard to keep a straight face.

They really do need ridiculing as well as condemning.

Any stand-up comedian looking for material on onanism should check out Kellogg (the cornflakes king). I found him an absolute gold mine of the most hilarious material. It’s all online. I could just imagine what someone like Frankie Boyle would do with him. Kellogg had an insane, Christian hatred of the flesh and he was ranting about it only a few years before these Catholic women.

This illustrates just how widespread this concern about developing boys was in past times. It wasn’t just the Catholic Church alone.

Is there other evidence of ‘Church business’? An authoritative professional confirmed that my teenage experience was not unique. She had come across other examples of ‘Sacred Onanism’. I guess most Survivors would be too embarrassed to talk about it. Or maybe the ‘aversion therapy’ worked for them. Especially if they were wannabe priests. And, of course, the Catholic Church’s rule of ‘Silence or you’ll go to Hell’ also applies here.

Yet the Catholic Church has committed worse but comparable crimes in recent times. In the 1970s a gay teenage boy consented to hospital electric shock ‘conversion therapy’ so he could continue his Catholic education. According to the article in a newspaper colour magazine, it ruined his life. A few years earlier, in Holland, several gay teenagers were castrated on the orders of the Catholic Church.

Original sin and baptism is the primary motivation for Sacred Sodomy and Sacred Onanism. Here’s a social media exchange about it that I came across:

@DaveVescio: What is the most psychologically damaging thing you can say to a child?

@Phoenix_Lilith: You are born evil, dirty and sinful. But if you agree that an ancient murder is your fault, the one who loves you most in all the world won’t have to torture you for being so evil.

So what can be done about this ‘Church business’? It’s far too heinous to ignore. And children could still be in danger.

It’s most unlikely this exposé will reach a wide audience. But it should do, so an evil religion can, at the very least, be properly investigated by an independent body and its followers told the truth about it. A truth they don’t want to hear and will deny as long as they can. Just as Germans were reluctantly exposed to the truth about the Nazis after the war. Catholics need to take their heads out of the sand and go through a similar denazification process. They will never do so willingly.

I’ve no idea where we go from here on Ammon Hillman’s allegations and their relevance to today. I leave that to the Muse.

I have more faith in her than the Holy Ghost. If the Muse can pull her cosmic strings and arrange the complex drama ‘A Castle in Canada’ that I relate in Pageturners, I’m sure she’ll find a way to work her magic. Again.

I’ll keep you posted.

Next week: Driven by the Muse.