Saturday, October 8, 2016


Once again, it's time for the annual Lay Governance Conference. And once more, PL will host the event. That means we won't be posting for a few weeks. Like last year, some of the Readers are doing all the set up plus travel/lodging coordination.  Others will go on a well-deserved vacation. (It's psychologically tough slogging through all the filth of Tradistan.) In addition, when the conference starts, we're lending our computers and tablets to attendees, who're coming from all over the world, including Hungary.

This year's event promises to be the best to date. A former benefactor of the pesthouse has offered to apply what would have been donations to Tradistan to underwrite most of the conference's administrative and logistical expenses, including the gala welcome and farewell dinners. Especially exciting will be our keynote speaker, a retired priest-professor who earned real doctorates in theology and canon law.

He's in his 80s with a razor-sharp wit and a first-class intellect. (Yes, there used to be priests like that — lots of 'em. That's one reason why we say Sedelandia's not for real.) The theme of the keynote address will be identifying the signs of cult mentality when interviewing clergy for a position. He's also volunteered to give a workshop where he'll put an end to the crazy "una-cum" nonsense invented by the SW Ohio/Swampland cult masters.

During our absence from cyberspace, The Lay Pulpit has kindly agreed to make weekly posts. We don't want anyone to miss out on additional exposés of the septic, secret history of the Tradistani cult kingpins. Just click on the link here.

After we resume posting, we'll all be that much closer to putting "One-Hand Dan," Tradzilla, the Pivmeister, and the very skittish Long-Island Jellyfish in the rearview mirror.

Please note that we'll subject all comments to moderation. Upon our return, the Readers may answer some of them in regular posts. The others (except for the fringe or the potty-mouths) will be published.

In the meanwhile, watch out for any scams for All Souls' Day cash.  If you need a reminder why you shouldn't fall for any farfetched line about privileged altars at sede cult-centers, click here for last year's post titled "'ALTAR' EGO."

Saturday, October 1, 2016


Good manners are made up of petty sacrifices. Emerson.

One of PL's more-than-passing interests lies in studying Tradistani primate behavior. Close observation often explains so much of the irrationality in the sede cults, such as forcing your kids to do without so that malformed, lowbred cult-master deadbeats can have (e.g., luxury trips abroad, new organs, spa vacations, restaurant splurges, expensive organic goodies from Whole Foods etc.).

To our mind, the most curious (and entertaining) activity occurs as beer-bellied  male cultlings, stuffed into fraying and yellowed wife-beater A-shirts, obsess over the honorific styles Your Excellency and His Excellency. From the frequency of utterance, it's their preferred means of showing submission to the counterfeit "bishops" who so amorally take advantage of them. (The self-demeaning etiquette enforced upon Nature's losers, we suppose.) Typically, you don't much hear the trench-mouthed hags of Tradistan cackling those phrases, since the considerably larger females generally prefer to use Bishop (vocalized "BEE-uh-ship," with a distinct Appalachian glide).

Plainly it's a guy thing.  The baseborn menfolk yearn to display their exquisite sense of propriety. When gathered together in their usual, sordid  habitat, all the macho sede swells outdo themselves with variations of these decorous niceties. They sound like a gaggle of jailbirds on parole, one-upping each other with prison-shop terminology like "cantilever,"  "espagnolette bolt,"  or "band and gudgeon hinges" in the thrilling, frisson-drenched minutes preceding a fistfight. If they're particularly impressed with their abject servitude to some half-witted, mitered charlatan, the larval "prelate" then metamorphoses into His Excellency the Most Reverend Bishop of the Roman Catholic Church First, Middle, and Last Name.

For the males of the species, Your and His Excellency function like the secret passwords they made up as urchin trash for admission to the rag-tag gangs they vainly formed to attract the attention of aloof girls from upper-class families, who despised them.  After entrance into unstable adulthood following a touch-and-go puberty, twanging "Your Excellency" signals to the opposite sex that the males continue to belong to a Lost-Boys' Club. As you study these hominids in situ, you'll marvel at how they simper with unmanned pride, running a coated tongue over lesion-cratered lips, as they brace themselves to articulate the magical eight syllables, "Yaw-ur EGGS-ul-LUH-un-SEE-ee" — the Open-Sesame to membership in the underworld we know as Tradistan.

Once the incantation has been breathlessly enunciated, for the briefest of instants, the creatures lay aside their customary hang-dog posture. They hold their misshapen noggins high above the innumerable, tiny cairns of rodent scat steaming under their splayed feet. Their booger-clogged snouts huff the cult center's rancid air like a tubercular mongrel circling an overflowing latrine. With their newly acquired savoir-faire, their characteristic hunchback's stoop straightens, though imperceptibly to the naked eye. Transfigured for a nanosecond, the "men" of Tradistan of a sudden feel worthy to be picked clean by the grinning impostor in shabby pontificals salivating to relieve them of their families' meager income.

A sight for any researcher to behold! (Just don't breathe too deeply.)

Well, now. PL doesn't want to rain on this odoriferous parade of sede masculine politesse, but we're afraid we must inform the Beta males they're wrong.  Mind you, the error doesn't arise from improper usage. By no means. To be pedantic, the oppressed womenfolk, crushed under a low-status mate's malign "authority," are wrong too: From the standpoint of strict protocol, well-mannered and properly schooled Catholics never address a real bishop as "Bishop So-and-so." The word isn't a title; it's an office. For American Catholics, Your Excellency is the mannerly way to address directly a legitimate member of the college of bishops, and His Excellency is the proper third-person honorific.

HOWEVER... sede "bishops" are decidedly NOT entitled to that style of office!

The truth is, it's not only a question of etiquette (or an example of antonomasia), but it's also a fundamental matter of ecclesiastical law. On December 31, 1930, in a decree issued by the Sacra Congregatio Caeremonialis, Pius XI conceded "the title of Most Reverend Excellency ... to archbishops and bishops too, whether residential or only titular."* Inasmuch as sede wandering bishops, flaming phonies without jurisdiction or a see, are neither residential nor titular, they have no legal right to the style. No one, Catholic or non-Catholic, may address or refer to them in this way. Additionally, since sede prelatasters do not exercise the episcopal office, they may never be addressed (even gauchely) as "Bishop X." It's like calling a quack "Physician Y."

As the rightful successor to the Roman Empire, the Church inherited the honorary title Excellentia (as well as Eminentia) to bestow on her loyal sons in accordance with her lights. (In imperial times, both honorifics were addressed to the powerful office of the praefectus praetorio [Berger's Encyc. Dict. of Roman Law]). But sede "bishops," who don't belong to the Church and have no commission from her, are barred from its use. In fact, properly speaking, they're laymen, a few of whom who may (illicitly) possess valid priestly and episcopal orders from a Catholic line. Also worthy of note is that even if the S. Congregatio Caeremonialis, the curial department that exercised jurisdiction over matters of rank and precedence, were still sitting, the sedes would have no standing to bring suit for the title since they're outside the Roman Catholic Church.

By now, it should be beyond discussion: Styling a sede "bishop" as Your or His Excellency isn't simply a buck-toothed, web-footed hick's social gaffe, like addressing the "judge" at a county-fair pie-eating contest as Your Honor. It's a serious transgression of propriety that exposes the offender for both the boor and the scofflaw he is.

Still, though, the practical question of good manners remains: How, exactly, does a servile cultie dude address one of these implausible canonical absurdities? In other words, what does a redneck Gertie guy or his bogtrotting Swampland wingman do if he's not allowed to grovel by means of Your Excellency or if usage rules and ecclesial reality forbid BEE-uh-ship?

We thought long and hard about that question. PL, in fact, solicited the input of blogger colleagues. To give these sede "bishops" their propers, the Readers weren't willing to sacrifice any of the positive laws of the Church or the canons of good form, large or small. No, not on your life! Not one whit. Our socially refined mothers and executive-level fathers reared us better. We wanted to get it right, by golly. So everybody had to put on his thinking cap. Finally, an inspired soul hit upon the perfect style for all Tradistan's grubbily striving episcopi vagantes:


Use it often. You can't go wrong.

* Excellentiae Reverendissimae titulum...tribuendum quoque esse Archiepiscopis atque Episcopis, sive residentialibus sive titularibus tantum. For the full list of those entitled to the style, click here for the Latin-language decree published in the 1931 Acta Apostolicae Sedis, p. 22 . (N.B. In the link's OCR text, the page header reads "28.")