Sunday, September 07, 2014

"Cheesy rad-trad pulp horror fiction"

The courier arrived in a tux with a wax-sealed letter on a silver tray, his black limo running outside. Beside the letter was a poured glass of Laphroaig 18 year single malt. Neat. How he knew my palate I couldn't tell you. But the letter was from Guy Noir - Private Eye, my underground correspondent I keep on retainer in an Atlantic seaboard city that knows how to keep its secrets.

From the letter's contents, I inferred that he must have been drinking when he wrote it. If he wasn't, he should have. Scrawled across the top of the page in black ink clearly written with a quill were the words "Windswept House." Then the letter itself, in his flowing and florid hand:
I hate to be glum. And I would love for someone -- anyone? -- to weigh in with a convincing counter to this piece that delivers propositional punch and visceral evisceration. Yes, it is reactionary. Those Rad Trads at Christian Order, I know.... It makes Malachi Martin’s novel scenarios seem like cheesy pulp horror films from our high schools days, doesn’t it? And yet, it all seems as believable as not. Salt Lake City has its own seagull monument, but I don't think it really fits with something like this:


“In late January 2013 a dove of peace released by Benedict was viciously attacked and taken out by a seagull. Weeks later and more ominously, within hours of the papal resignation two huge lightning bolts struck the dome of St Peter's. The following January, two white doves of peace were chased and hacked within an inch of their lives by a big black crow and a seagull after their release by Francis, as a huge Angelus crowd looked on in horror. And once again the minor portent was soon magnified, when a 21-year-old man was crushed to death after a massive iron cross erected in 2005 in honour of John Paul II collapsed, just a week before that problematic pontiff's canonisation.”

Read on: http://www.christianorder.com/editorials.html
So. Anyone like to provide something snappy and upbeat to help our poor, depressed correspondent? Is this a job for ... Superman? Mark Shea? David Armstrong? Anything better than a sparkling sing-along with Monty Python's "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life"? or Bobby McFerrin's "Don't worry, Be Happy"?

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