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Foul Ball: L.A. Catholics Declare Victory Over The Perpetually Indulged

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Image CreditPeachy Keenan

There was no drag show, no twerking, and zero fanfare. The Dodgers engineered a rainout for the guys who had caused them nothing but grief.

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The great Battle of Dodger Stadium is finally over, and the final score was Dodgers zero, Catholics one, and ugly men in clown paint and nun costumes negative 1 billion.

After all the sturm und drag surrounding the Dodgers’ “pride night” ceremony honoring a pornographic Catholic hate group known as the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, the pride event itself barely registered. The cowardly Dodgers executives buried the ceremony by holding it a full hour before the game even began and in front of a nearly empty stadium. Just TWO of the brave and proud Sisters dared to show their clown-painted faces! Sister Unity and Sister Dominia, middle-aged male drag queens clad in habits and crosses, stood still in their finery while the announcer welcomed them to a smattering of cheers and boos.

There was no strip show performance, no dancing, no twerking on the crucifix, and no rousing ovation by a packed crowd of rainbow-clad LGBT activists. There was zero fanfare. The Dodgers engineered a rainout for the guys who had caused them nothing but grief. I’m sure the executives just wanted to get it over with so they could move on and forget pride month ever happened. 

Bad news for the team: We won’t forget. The thousands of Catholics who showed up at Dodger Stadium that afternoon for the peaceful protest won’t forget, either. I arrived at Dodger Stadium’s Lot 13 around 3 o’clock, and it was already packed with a thousand people. Another thousand or so came in after that, with a long line of cars waiting to get in. Many people wore red since Friday was the Feast of the Sacred Heart. People carried huge American and religious flags, held up large portraits of Jesus, and held signs saying things like “No Anti-Catholic Hate.” 

I counted at least six news choppers hovering overhead, probably hoping to catch scenes of mayhem and violence they could splash on TV, proving to their audience that we were the bad guys. 

If the local news crews were hoping to witness an insurrection at Chavez Ravine, they went home disappointed — because for hours, the huge crowd was quiet, reverent, and prayerful as they listened to the speakers. Nobody smoked a cigarette. Nobody even vaped. Nobody heckled the speakers. No one played on their phones. Instead, in the blazing afternoon sun, people knelt on their bare knees on old, broken asphalt to pray the Litany of the Sacred Heart. Some of the speeches and prayers were Spanish since the crowd was heavily Hispanic. For a white supremacist hate group, these L.A. Catholics sure are diverse! 

Shamefully, the Los Angeles Archdiocese chose to “remain neutral” and refused to send any representatives to the event. Many Catholics I spoke to there were rightfully appalled by this — but not surprised. No one who follows local Catholic politics here should be surprised at this. After all, this is a city where disgraced pedophile enabler Cardinal (!) Roger Mahony — who cost the archdiocese $1 billion in victim settlements — lives in emeritus status on the campus of a North Hollywood parish school. 

Not a single archdiocesan priest from L.A. was there as far as I could tell, although I saw a Carmelite monk I know. No Los Angeles bishops attended. The archbishop himself certainly wouldn’t have dared show his face. Originally, the prayer rally was going to start with a procession from the Cathedral in downtown L.A. to the stadium. It was called off. Why? Because the archdiocese, in their quest to “remain neutral,” refused to allow devout Catholics who were traveling from all over the country to park their cars in their huge, cavernous parking lot.

Official Catholicdom made it clear that this protest was not condoned. God forbid a judgmental priest accidentally offends the sensibilities of a male pole dancer from San Francisco pleasuring himself on a cross! We don’t want them to think we are judging them. That, after all, is the worst mortal sin you can commit.

But at least beloved conservative Bishop Joseph Strickland was there; he traveled to the event from his parish in Tyler, Texas. He opened the event with these words: “Most of us will not be called on to shed our blood. We need to live our martyrdom. We need to be audacious enough to speak the truth.”

In his own fiery speech, Catholic media maestro Jack Posobiec called the Sisters “the Sisters of Demonic Possession. We have gathered to perform an exorcism in Dodger Stadium. We love them, but they are scared of us, that’s why they wear the makeup — because they are too terrified to face themselves. This is a spiritual war against wickedness in high places. Put on the full armor!”

The crowd went wild at this. Everyone who spoke explained our position the same way: They hate us and think we are bigots, but we pray for them and do our best to love them — yes, even the Sisters, who mock and profane our religion. 

Hate Springs Eternal

But let’s be honest: There is only one hate group in this dispute, and the LAPD knew what was up. The cops were out in full force at Lot 13. There were dozens of officers guarding the street outside the parking lot. We knew, and the cops knew we knew, that they were not protecting pride night attendees from us, but protecting us from the pride night attendees. 

It’s OK to say this now: The most terrifying newly minted hate group in America is the militant pride activists. “Transtifa,” as one wag on Twitter dubbed them. The Rainbow Supremacists. The Pronouns Uber Alles people. You know who they are: They are the ones who called in multiple bomb threats to Target after some stores moved pride displays away from the front entrances. They’re the ones who want the state of California to kidnap children from parents who don’t immediately accept a teenager’s so-called “transition.” They’re the ones who accuse Catholics of bigotry and hatred for not wanting to worship a blasphemous drag group. They’re the “love is love” people, only they hate you and everything you believe.

After the speeches, we processed up the hill to Vin Scully Drive, which leads directly to the main gate of Dodger Stadium. A line of police officers along the sidewalk kept the huge crowd safe. As they passed the officers, everyone said thank you to them. A lovely young female police officer, an Amazonian goddess who stood at least six foot three, kept saying “God bless you” as people passed her, thanking her profusely for her help, clutching their signs and crosses. 

June 16 was an important victory, politically, and spiritually. But here’s the bad news: Phase one of this war is already over, and we lost. Badly. The pride parades happening this month across the country are not really “pride” parades, after all. They are victory parades. The left reigns triumphant. Pride month is just the 30-day mop-up operation after their total and resounding defeat of feckless “conservative” attempts at beating back the horde’s advance through the hinterlands.

Let’s look at their advances on the battlefield. Just last week, on the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, devout Catholic Joe Biden tweeted out a photo of an enormous “progress pride flag” hanging from the center of the White House roof like a guillotine, shamefully flanked by some other, much less important flags.

Angeleno Apocalypto 

Last weekend, I took a break from press interviews to rewatch Mel Gibson’s 2006 adventure epic, “Apocalypto.” Set in the Yucatan in 1502, it’s about a tribe of indigenous hunters captured by bloodthirsty mercenaries and brought to the Mayan capital to be sacrificed — by having their hearts cut from their bodies.

The scene where the bad guys ravage an innocent village is brutal. But the most devastating moment is when the captives, men and women, tied at the neck to long sticks, are forced to forge a swift river. On the banks are the crying children they are leaving behind. The oldest girl, holding a baby and surrounded by small children, yells to her mother, “Don’t worry! I’ll take care of them! They are mine now!” Her weeping mother, up to her neck in the river, says a prayer. “Gentle Ixchel, tender mother of mercy, keep them from harm. Please. Keep them.”

That’s pretty much how I feel these days. We, parents, are being led to the slaughter by the media, the government, our own schools, and every cultural institution that bleats about “protecting children” when the only people they want to protect children from … are their own parents.

The other side has every reason to wallow in its cultural triumph to date. Here in California, our hardworking legislature, led by BDSM-loving California State Rep. Scott Wiener, is racking up win after win. (That’s his real name, not his drag name.) He is responsible for much of the cultural chaos in this formerly sane state. This week, the California Legislature passed a new Wiener bill that would make any parents who do not “gender-affirm” their child guilty of child abuse.

“Originally, AB 957 required courts to consider whether a child’s parents were ‘gender-affirming’ in custody cases. Wiener’s amendment completely rewrites California’s standard of childcare. AB 957 post-amendment ‘would include a parent’s affirmation of the child’s gender identity as part of the health, safety, and welfare of the child,’ altering the definition and application of the entire California Family Code. California courts would be given complete authority under Section 3011 of California’s Family Code to remove a child from his or her parents’ home if parents disapprove of LGBTQ+ ideology,” a Daily Signal report explains.

Last fall, Gov. Gavin Newsom signed a bill making it legal for teens from other states to come here to get their bodies permanently mutilated without their parents’ knowledge, consent, or legal ability to stop it.

At the end of “Apocalypto,” the hero Jaguar Paw remembers his formidable skill as master of the forest and declares “I am not afraid,” in a nice echo of Joan of Arc’s famous quote. Then he is chased to the edge of the Pacific just in time to be saved by a deus ex machina in the form of Spanish Conquistadors bearing crosses and a priest rowing to shore. Jaguar Paw gets back to his village in time to save the wife and children he left behind in a hidden cave.

It’s time for more of us to declare we are not afraid. We won this battle because there was strength in our numbers. It’s time to peacefully take the fight to them — and win. 

After all, God is on our side, and that is not his drag name.


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