That's what they killed Bruno for.
The Bear gets how that's a sin. Even if it is just a fun game of tag that sheep happen to suck at.
So, it appears that the Pope, or a bishop, or Fr. Rosica has a 00-license to kill, and if we say anything about it, we fall into the sin of backbiting, or irony, or detraction, or gossip, or sacrilege, or calumny, or lack of charity, or rash judgment, or bad grammar, or any one of the other 500 freaking sins of the tongue that Catholic thought has sliced as thin as panchetta over the centuries.
So, unless you're on some weak-kneed, useless site like Patheos, you, the Bear's fellow Ephemerist, are certainly on the way to Hell. Michael Voris is definitely going to Hell. Well, as they say, Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.
|"I'm a monster."|
Of course, by now Father is looking nervously around the "rec room," because he obviously has an unbalanced person between him and the door.
But you press on, knowing how crazy you sound. "I feel very certain I have a mission from God to expose the holy Father's errors and abuses, and comfort those whom he afflicts. Like a, I dunno, field hospital or something. So I'm not sorry. Should I be? Can you, maybe, like, accompany me, or maybe do that gradual thing? Cuz, I don't see myself stopping. My therapist says I need to do this. Can I still get absolved?"
You bet. Like he's going to tell some 800 lb. Bear sitting two feet in front of him who thinks he's on a mission from God he's not going to absolve him.
The biggest sin is probably the pleasure the Bear takes in it all. It's the sheep all over again. Pope Francis and his minions are begging for abuse. The prey drive is strong in a Bear. And admit it, you can tell your Bear is having fun, can't you? And it's part of why you come here. The Bear treats serious topics with humor and panache. Every ephemeris has a style. This one is irreverent, not to mention being written by a Real Live Bear. And by now, we all know what that means.
The Bear desperately needs some Jesuitical casuistry to avoid being (gulp) neutered. Otherwise this ephemeris is going to have to be renamed The Memoirs of an Ancient Bear or something. But from where the Bear sits, it looks like the whole game is rigged against us, and malefactors can operate sure in the knowledge that anybody that criticizes them is going to get browbeaten into silence by their confessors.