Writings by Dr. John C. Rao

Letters From Hell: Who’s on First?

(The Remnant, July 29, 2020.)

The Unending Anti-Viral Carnival

Our beloved Greek forbears’ claim that “those whom the gods would destroy they first make mad” does not bode well for the future of New York City where a tropical heat wave has in no way dimmed the terrorized population’s insane enthusiasm for obeying all of the absurd counsels of the anti-viral mafia. Its passion for donning its slave muzzles---with 90%-95% compliance in Manhattan---has been supplemented not only by face shields and gloves but even in the case of some fetishists with contraptions that look like beekeepers’ outfits or Samurai warrior gear.

A man this morning fled in horror from what he perceived to be imminent Murder on the Otis Express once he saw my wife already standing in the elevator, merciless in her readiness to do him in by merely existing. She exited only to be assaulted by a woman demanding deeper burial of her nostrils under more sweatshop produced masking material.

Perhaps those looking for good news in the unending anti-viral carnival might take heart from the bread shop on my corner, which had prohibited the touching of any cash at the beginning of March as tantamount to suicide. The proprietors now believe that the virus, in its ineffable wisdom, has decided to detoxify the droplets it leaves on our own dough. We are free to spit on the faces of the racists whose snouts cover our variously numbered paper bills and hand them safely over to the workers. Their thickly diapered faces guarantee them at least the hope of personal bodily salvation for another day or two.

Such unparalleled benevolence of the virus with respect to hard cash came alongside the announcement by our gubernatorial Führer on July 20th that we were now in “Phase Four” of recovery. This was startling news indeed, since “Phase Two” had been prolonged indefinitely only two weeks ago, and no one that I know ever remembers having passed through “Phase Three”. In any case, in New York City, “Phase Four” is not really any different from “Phase Two” except in its harshness. Aside from not allowing anyone to get a driver’s license, His Science-Driven Majesty is cracking down on bar and restaurant “misuse” of the thrice-blessed concessions he had earlier bestowed. Our Dear Leader was particularly upset that many city folk were not keeping their masks on while they were eating and drinking, and that some of these scoundrels were sitting down for as long as an hour to swallow and slurp down their crisis rations!

Still, to give The Butcher of Small Businesses his mentally disturbed due, I have regularly watched people trying to dine and imbibe as the Master wishes. Some work to pull a teeny edge of diaper wrap away from the lower left lip, so as to stick a couple of pommes frites down a large enough floss hole between two side teeth. Others are bold enough to lift their muzzles entirely in their attempt to secure an ever so humble schluck of wine or beer or a milk shake. But these daredevils rapidly and embarrassingly slip their control devices back on lest their slightest breath cause the numbers of Covid dead to pile up on the pavement before them at Battle of Verdun or---worse still---Florida and Texas casualty levels.

Real Dangers to Life and Limb

Using the absurdly low official figure for New York City’s population, 0.027% of my fellow citizens have suffered from the virus, mostly in minor ways, with 0.0027%, mostly elderly and with pre-existing conditions, dying from it. My chances of catching Covid-19 in Father Demo Square are less than my getting ill or dying from eating a poisoned mushroom. But I cannot say the same for contracting some other illness or injury under the conditions that have been created in the battle against this supposedly unprecedented Plague.

Leaving aside the well-known damage that has been done to the health system in general, the neglect of ordinary treatment of patients with serious problems, and the long-term physical as well as psychological disaster that is being brought about by massive unemployment and the destruction of schooling, let us focus briefly on two other realities: the pestiferous conditions on the public squares and sidewalks, and the 200% increase in the crime rate. Neither of these is of importance to the “science and data-driven” ideologues, useful idiots, and robots who have worked with “the gods” to produce “the madness” destined to destroy my City and my State.

Last Sunday, July 26th, before heading out for Sunday Mass, I wanted to read a chapter of Thucydides’ Peloponnesian War in the same square that I am writing this article in today. A few of my neighbors, chatting on cell phones or drinking their morning coffee, were already there. Lying face down next to the fountain in front of them was an utterly motionless man. The whole piazza was filthy. Everything stank of marijuana. Just outside the gate a young drugged up madman was hurling bottles at anything living until eight defanged NYPD cops begged him at least to throw them at people somewhere else.

Many of my readers might think that such conditions are standard in New York, and, in fact, in the 1970s they were somewhat similar. But I moved into the neighborhood in 1979 when the city was on the upswing, and it was not until “the new normal” perverted everything that this kind of horror affected me.

Tossing Thucydides into my bag, I began the thirty-five block long trudge to my one oasis, Holy Innocents Church, for the Traditional Latin Mass. Here, masks, constant scrubbing with hand sanitizer, and keeping one’s supposedly lethal mouth shut at sung liturgical responses are not de rigeur. I try to go there every day, now that it has finally sunk into even my thick skull just how wretchedly weak I am, and how utterly incapable of fighting the enemy without the grace of the sacraments.

Alas, that daily hike up Sixth or Seventh Avenue might tempt anyone to become a Bubble Boy, but not for fear of the infection rate of the Dr. Faustus’ Flu. Starting just around the corner from my square, and in front of my local cinema---shuttered, along with museums, gyms, concert halls, and indoor dining facilities until the arrival of the Divine Vaccine--- I encounter one cluster after another of the living dead, homesteading 24/7 amidst their own filth. After 12th Street, and especially on Seventh Avenue, I begin to hit extensive Garbage Cities, filled with heaps upon heaps of detritus, imaginable and unimaginable, all of which provides the beds for their “new normal” inhabitants, small in number given the size of their environment.

Do any of you out there remember the ancient television series that took place in New York called “The Naked City”? Episodes giving this program a literal meaning could easily be filmed here, with the totally unclothed “actors” relieving themselves fully before the cameras for free. None of this seems conducive to my health, but the governor’s lack of concern for my predicament probably indicates that his “data driven science” has proven to him that my daily constitutional is as restorative as a walk through Yosemite. Well, I suppose it is as salubrious as a stroll through the National Park of Sheridan Square, the official neighborhood birthplace of legalized Sodomy, which is now New York City LGBTQ Party Central. But, then again, no one is permitted to get sick there anyway, because the virus only strikes at representatives of the “old normal”. And maybe it displays the same benevolence towards those living and passing through our Seventh Avenue Cuomovilles.

The Anti-Viral Carnival and Revolutionary Collapse

Older readers will remember the comedy skit from the 1940s where Bud Abbott throws Lou Costello into a terrible tizzy regarding which players are on what spots in the baseball diamond for a particular game. This is because their names appear to be questions rather than identifications of specific persons, Abbot, for example, telling an every more annoyed Costello in search of definite answers that “Who” is on First Base.

The unparalleled disorientation characterizing our daily life since our March entry into our current Devil’s Kitchen immediately brought the memory of the above skit back into my mind, but hardly for raising a chuckle and with still broader chilling questions regarding the whole of the game being played. Who, indeed, is on First or Second Base or in the Outfield or playing Shortstop in our anti-Covid carnival? And, even more importantly, why is this farce being mounted at all, and for whose benefit? It clearly is not about dealing with a virus, whose source is still very mysterious, whose virulence we sadly admit, but whose impact rational investigation from the very outset demonstrated could be controlled without having to bring about the destruction of 99% of the population of the United States.

There are some certainties amidst the diabolical disorientation, the primary one being that Lucifer is the coach and that the purpose of the game that he is directing is the exploitation of all of the many, long-rooted errors and sins of our ungodly and irrational civilization to ensure its final, revolutionary collapse. The roster of the players in this End Game is also clear, and its name is Legion, in the biblical sense of involving a host of historical demons incarnated in specific groups and individuals of our time, many of them ideological in their mental illness and others simply shameless practitioners of the Seven Deadly Sins or master criminals. All of the players concerned are using the golden opportunity of the virus to create a mass hysteria in which they can achieve their particular pathetic goals.

Some of the participants in the carnival are purely in it for the fulfillment of their immediate political ambitions, including probably the bulk of the Democratic Party, which, while facilitating this crime against humanity, would probably like to see the whole Coronavirus episode go away when (and if) they get rid of Donald Trump. Unfortunately for them, they have given succor to medical thinkers and vaccine fanatics who seem to nurture many of the dystopic visions of limitless and transformed life bandied about by posthumanists, and who stand a make a fortune out of the terrified mob begging to be poked with the first needle offered it, regardless of its efficacy or danger. Obviously, they also have helped to unleash sexual activists pushing the LGBTQ agenda. Post Soviet Marxists are to be found among the manipulators of the anti-viral carnival as well, sometimes in union with those stimulating immigration into Europe and the United States from Third World countries and adulators of a worldwide leveling of living standards for similar economic or environmental reasons. More importantly, influential multi-national financers and cyber capitalist corporate leaders---among whom I would include that immense corporation known officially as the Chinese Communist Party---are part of the game as well, all of them smelling a profit out of the woes of the mass of humanity.

Many of these forces, the bureaucrats of the European Union and the Vatican included, are eager to use the manufactured health crisis to effect what they have been discussing openly for years: a “Global Reset” which will somehow simultaneously restructure the global economy for the benefit of “the big shots”, destroy small businesses, lower salaries in the Western World, limit the possibility of “disruptive travel” on the part of the common man, and nevertheless achieve a "sustainable life" for Everyman in union with "nature". In this paradise, there will be no place---as the prospectus for the Global Reset Conference scheduled for shortly after the New Year indicates--- for "political, social, and religious egoism".

None of this can be made possible without a revolutionary collapse of the existing system. That collapse cannot take place without at least some resistance. There will be blood, the extent of which will become more clear as the months proceed.

A Non-Human Population Cannot Resist

Perhaps the situation is different where readers of this article are living, but I cannot see resistance coming from the general population around me in New York City. There are exceptions among my neighbors, and I hope that their number grows, but the overwhelming percentage of the population that I encounter daily in Father Demo Square and on my walk up to Holy Innocents is stark raving mad and utterly incapable of rational thought and action. Having taught for 42 years and seen education become nothing other than substance-less, libertine and consumer-focused naturalist propaganda; having watched everyone become more and more attached to devices giving them information from sources that pursue that very same goal; and having constantly believed that the pluralist mentality would lead to an inability to make any definitive judgment on the basis of the True, the Good, and the Beautiful whatsoever, I am not surprised by this fact of life, merely horrified by it.

Quite frankly, I am convinced that I am not generally interacting with human beings any longer. I cannot define as “people” the hollow men and women that are sitting with me in Father Demo Square or walking up Sixth or Seventh Avenues. These are programmed artificial intelligences, formed by Google, Amazon, You Tube, Facebook, and Dr. Faustus, creatures that remind me of another old film, The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. They spit out slogans indicating that the anti-viral carnival is honestly about a Plague, and cannot digest what is really happening around them, who is really responsible for it, and see what the future really holds in terms of revolutionary collapse. They cannot even count, which is why they refuse to admit that the official report of one demise from Covid, published on the CDC site, actually means one death and not a million, and therefore that confirmation of the need for everyone to maintain a permanent state of panic that Fauci and Company really want them to believe. They simply cannot think any longer at all. Their madness allows them to accept everything and its opposite, and hence the gods have sealed their destruction. Sauve qui peut, my friends! Don’t let the Body Snatchers grab you; they are stronger than you may think and, at least from the natural perspective, those coming under their control seem lobotomized for life. They are posthumans. You need all the supernatural help that you can get to avoid them.

The “Catholic Moment”

Resistance to the Revolution that is now underway---the United States, mutatis mutandis, is displaying many of the characteristics of dissolution that the Soviet Union exhibited in the years from 1989-1991---cannot come from the brain-dead population at large. There does, however, remain some hope for escaping its ravages due to the fact that the various groups that have been doing the devil’s work since the outset of the Naturalist Enlightenment have never been united and are still not in fraternal union today. Rich LGBTQ supporters and global levelers are not playing on the same team. This is why the Revolution has a history of terribly bitter infighting and the reputation of “devouring its own children”. I will be writing more on this subject and how the example of past revolutionary failures could still work to our advantage in the months to come. Still, I would not sit back and merely hope for the mutual self-destruction of forces that are all opposed in one way or another to everything we believe.

But what can we possibly do, aware as we are of how politically and socially weak our position actually is? We must, as Archbishop Lefebvre said, recognize that our future lies in our past. Everything our Faith told us would happen through the creation of a society based on a false conception of life has been proven to be correct. Every mockery of our past fears coming from our enemies has been proven to be false. Our Tradition tells us that our strength comes from a firmer belief and practice of our Faith and an ever-greater conviction that supernatural force overcomes every obstacle, naturalist appearances notwithstanding. But we must now profess and show our Faith more openly, maintain more regular contact with one another, and, charitably make a supernaturally-based commitment to freeing our fellow men from the Body Snatchers now holding them in bondage to fear, literally “opening their mouths” to shout their outrage over the crime against humanity to which they have been subjected.

This is the true “Catholic Moment” in history: the full, militant, open, and vocal profession of the whole of our Tradition in the face of revolutionary disaster; not the enthusiastic embrace of a pluralist America that certain Catholic neo-conservatives once claimed it to be. We have to give the lead, turning against the perpetrators of the anti-viral crime against humanity the words Pope Benedict XV used to chastise the powers perpetrating World War One; ordering them “to be satisfied with the ruin that have already wrought.” If there is to be blood, let our bodies be the first defending the pitiful remnants of Christian Civilization.

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