I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Considering that Catholicism is a religion that has been known to convert believers with the tip of a sword, converting them with the tip of something else doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. Sticking someone with a four-foot knife has a lot more devastating effects than sticking someone with a four-inch you-know-what. You can recover from emotional trauma a lot easier than you can recover from certain death. What are a few hundred cases of sexual abuse compared to a few thousand executions?

The hypocrisy is overwhelming. The Lord’s Prayer clearly states, “thy will be done;” and if it weren’t God’s will for these Chosen few to give of themselves to the needs of His representatives on earth, then it simply never would have happened. It could be worse—Allah asks of his Chosen to blow themselves into little bits in His name.

As a Catholic, I have always understood that it is our duty to accept God’s will for us and to give to the Church whatever is asked of us. According to the World Christian Encyclopedia, over 70 million Christian martyrs have given their lives for their beliefs since the inception of the Christian faith—the sacrifices of a few thousand Catholics asked to give up only their sexual innocence pales in comparison. Rather than piss and moan and sue the Catholic Church, they should be grateful that God’s will for them didn’t go any deeper.

Faith has been replaced by Avarice. All it took was one greedy little bastard to come up with the idea of making a buck off the Catholic Church, and now there are lines around the block of people alleging that they were molested and looking for a hand-out. I am not a wealthy man, and the thought that my weekly contribution to the Parish goes straight into the pockets of disgruntled altar boys really chafes my tight ass. I didn’t like the sanctimonious little bastards when I was one of them, and I don’t like them now.

I admit that I was not the ideal altar boy—my tenure lasted more than two or three masses. I’m not sure if it was my lack of devotion, getting drunk off the Communion wine or my wicked nature that ended my short-lived career as a religious acolyte, but I guarantee you it had nothing to do with abuse. If any priest had ever tried to make a move on me—or any of my friends—there would have been hell to pay, mostly in the form of broken stained-glass windows.

I was never abused by the Catholic clergy or laity, and neither was anybody else that I know, other than in the form of a few well-deserved swats from my grade school’s sadistic principal and his cleverly-engineered, aerodynamic paddle. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen these days. As the same principal confided to me a couple years ago when we ran into each other and were “catching up,” you can’t even pull a kid into your office anymore without having both parents and an attorney present, which is a shame, if you ask me.

Over-protective parents are just as bad as those who are under-protective. That’s why kids think they can get away with anything in this day and age, like going to school, armed to the teeth, and shooting the place up. I dare say that we’d all be better off with a little more abuse. Kids were better behaved back in the day when a sharp wrap on the knuckles with a metal ruler or a sincere whack on the butt with a wooden paddle were acceptable. There’s nothing like a little whoop-ass—or a little ass-whoopee—to keep kids in check and let them know who’s in charge. And that’s true in religious matters as well as secular.

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