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©) Copyright 2004 by Anthony J. Fejfar, Esq., Coif

This book is a work of Science Fiction, all characters and places are purely

fictional, and any resemblence to any person or place is purely a coincidence.

Additionally, this science fiction novel takes place in a fictional parallel universe to that

of author and therefore once again, nothing in this book can be causally attributed to

any real person or place in the author’s universe.


Father Tony Fitzgerald was having a hell of a time. His class just wasn’t getting. The

law thing. When he was in law school at Nebraska, pretty much every class was taught socratic

method. The professor would ask for the facts of the case, the issues involved, and the holding,

that is, a brief statement of the judgment rendered in the case. Then, he typically, or she, would

change the facts a bit and run hypothetical scenarios and rework the analysis of the issues, trying

to figure out which facts were most relevant to the holding, and, also trying to figure what the

underlying policies were which supported the legal rules. My professors rarely summed up or

gave overviews in advance. They never told you in class how to take a law school exam, or

what was expected in an exam. You were expected to figure that out on your own. Practice

exams were a rare. For my students, though, this wasn’t enough, I was going to have to change

strategies a bit.

So, I Father Tony Fitzgerald, S.J., bit the bullet a bit and compromised. I decided that not

only would I not “hide the ball,” I would not leave the students to figure out on their own what

the contours of the ball were. Instead, I would endeavor to give a general idea of “the ball,” at

the beginning of the subject matter, then have the typical socratic discussion, finally, I would sum

up at the end of subject matter. Additionally, I decided that I would try to tell them exactly what

was expected in a law school exam and why.

So, into property class I went, my second week of teaching at Lewistown, University

School of Law, in Lewistown Minnesoata. “Alright, lets Rock Property,” I said, to the yawning

early afternoon property class. I got a few smiles, and the class quieted down. I wished that I

could do a “wolf whistle” but had never been able to develop the trick of doing it.

“Today, we are going to talk about law school and the law school examination,” I said.

“Traditionally, law professor felt no obligation whatsoever to let their students know exactly

what was going on with respect to the legal education process in general, or particular subject

matter. You were expected to figure it out on your own.” “I am going to try to give you a better

sense of what is going on, but, I have to warn you, YOU are the one who is responsible for

getting the material and learning to think like a lawyer. I am not here to spoon feed you the

material. If you want material spoon fed to you, go down to the home economics department

and have them get out the Gerber’s baby food for you. Hopefully, they will get you the sweet

peaches, not, the tapioca pudding.” (laughter from the class).

“Now, when you start practicing law, “the Law,” does not just magically appear before

your eyes. In many respects Law is a process. A process which has rules. The problem is that

those rules really aren’t published anywhere. The first point, is, that the FACTS do not just exist

in a vacuum, nor are they handed to you on a plate. You have to figure them out. In the real

world this means that a client has to walk through your door. A live human being. And, you

have to figure out the FACTS, primarily from what your client says to you. At least initially.”

“So, you have to ask your client to sit down and make him or herself comfortable. Offer

the client something to drink. Client lawyer relations are important. You have to treat your

client with respect. You have to treat even the most hardened criminal client with respect. If

nothing else you must respect the fact that if you piss the client off too much and are not careful,

he might just jump across the interview table, grab you, and punch your lights out.” (Laughter).

“So, you have to ask the client questions in order to get the facts. You start with open

ended questions, then go to moderately leading questions, finally finishing with clarifying leading

questions which suggest an answer. Remember, though, LAW is a dialectical between law and

fact. The law affects what the facts are, and, the facts affect what the law is. There is no law

without facts and there are no legal facts without law. We cannot have a tresspass to land

without having some piece of ground involved which is “land.” On the other hand, you cannot

have “land” as a concept which is analogous to “property,” without some legal conception of


”Remember, we can think of “property,” as the res, or thing, or substance, in itself,

analogous to Blackstone’s idea that property is like a bundle of sticks, or, we can think of

property conceptually in terms of the Restatement of Property’s definition, with property seen

primarily as a “legal relationship” between persons and some thing, tangible or intangible, or

finally, in a critical realist or critical thomist mode, we can see property as that which which

judge property to be, based on the res, the conceptualization, and finally, an intuitive judgment

involving value and/or values.”

I paused for a moment, and went internal, and then I heard a channeled statement in my

mind, “This is bullshit, why am I here. I need to go smoke a joint.” I looked up to see if I

could figure out which student was channeling this information out to me, switching to my

intuition, rather than quantum channeling. I could tell, it was Stan Smith, in the back of the

room, rolling his eyes and looking at the clock.

“Stan, Stan Smith, what do you think of what I’ve been saying here? Make any sense?”

Smith didn’t know what to do. “Well, I guess so, I mean, well, not really, I mean this isn’t law,

how is this relevant to the real world?” “Well, Stan,” I said, “that’s a good question. Anybody

in the class here who can help Stan with this question?” I said. My eyes panned the room to see

if anybody would answer. The psychic pressure in the room built up. People started fidgeting

and looking nervous.

“Come on now, I could take a shot at answering this, but how about one of you? Come

on, I’ll owe you a favor.” A hispanic woman in the fifth row raised her hand. “Yes,” I said,

looking at the seating chart, “let’s see, Cassandra Gonzales.” “Well professor, I think its very

relevant, what your doing, I mean. If I were to go out in practice today in a law firm I wouldn’t

know how to interview a client, and, to be perfectly honest, it never occurred to me that the facts

of the case would have to be found through interviewing or investigating. If you read the case

it’s all sort of in a vacuum.” “Thanks, Cassandra, that’s helpful.”

“Stan, does that help? I asked. “Well, somewhat, but what about this jurisprudence stuff

related to property,” “I mean, how practically is that going to help me?” “Well, Stan, that’s a

good question, lets take a look at the case, State v. Shack and see if we can see if jurisprudence is

relevant in solving that situation.” “Stan, why don’t you tell us about the Shack case.” Stan

seemed to go into a bit of a trance state. His eyes went up and to the left, then down and to the

right, and then he just sort of stared, blanking out. Eyes up and to the left probably meant

visually remembered accessing, eyes down and to the right probably meant tactile creative or

constructive accessing. Stan was getting ready to lie or to tell a story. That was my best guess.

“Stan, are you with me, what’s up? I asked. “I don’t know, professor, I mean, I read the

case, but I’m not sure where I’m at.” “Well, thanks for being honest Stan, that happens.” “Now

here is a secret class, no matter how good the lawyer, no matter how well prepared you are, you

can be caught off guard and blank out a bit when you are in trial, in a meeting, in an appellate

argument. Now, in a very real sense, this is not at all your fault. Your mind has gotten jammed

somehow. It’s on overload and you can’t think. Unfortunately, you are the person on the hot

seat. You are the one who must perform. There is no one else who can get the job done. Others

are relying on you. So, Stan, do you know what you do? You wing it. You fake it. You act.

You get the job done even if you don’t think you can. If you have prepared, and I believe you

that you have, you just have to push through the mental block and get the job done.”

“So, Mr. Smith, I’m not going to let you off the hook, at least not yet. What do you have

down in your notes? Did you brief the case?” “Well, I mean no, I read the case, but I didn’t

brief it.” “Alright class, that’s the first problem here. The practice of law, and law school itself

is like being a high wire performing artist in a circus. It’s a tight rope. It’s a balancing act.

Once you are away from the platform and on the wire you cannot afford to slip. As one of my

supervising attorneys at Bandler and Holmes told be when I was in law practice, you expected to

perform perfectly, even though we know objectively that this is impossible.” “Now, what I will

tell you is this. In your heart you must know that that kind of perfection is impossible and

cannot be attained, while in your head, on the other hand, you must strive for that kind of

protection. Finally, perhaps most importantly, in your gut, you must know that if you are going

to \be involved in a profession which is like being on a tightrope, please, MAKE SURE THERE

IS ALWAYS A NET BELOW YOU, NOT CONCRETE. Did you get that people?”

“Now, there are all sorts of different kinds of nets to be used, sometimes the net is

another person, sometimes the net is a malpractice policy, but the best net is you. Your

preparation. And, I am telling you right now, whether we are talking about class performance,

or performance in front of an appellate court during oral argument, preparation, including and

outline or a brief is unbelievably important.” “So, Stan, you can’t have a prepared speech

verbatim, on the other hand you can’t have nothing at all. Moderation suggests that you have an

outline or sketch brief of some sort. If you blank out, then, you refer to you outline or brief,

refresh your recollection of the material, and then move forward. If you don’t know exactly what

you are doing, move forward anyway. Just start talking. Get your mind moving. For many of

us, if you ask us if we are lawyers, we’ll just laugh and say, of course not, I’m an actor, I’m just

faking it. When you blank out, you can’t just stop, instead, fake it. Pretend that you know what

you are doing, and just maybe you’ll be doing it.” “Now, I don’t mean to be cynical or flip here,

but, it you go into an “on stage” mode as if you we acting, and the whole situation is an act, you

in all likely hood will switch the hemispheres of your mind, going from left hemisphere, to right

hemisphere, enabling you to use creative intelligence rather than just memorization. This should

help you to get the job done.”

“Now, as to blanking out. Why does it happen?” “Well, you certainly don’t have

cognitive dementia. You can’t make it into law school with a problem like that. You may have

the Watership Down phenomenon. In the novel Watership Down, a society of rabbits lives in a

rabbit warren underground. The rabbits can speak of course, and the novel is primarily a

political satire. One thing that the rabbits notice is the phenomenon of going “tharn.” When a

rabbit is placed in a situation of extreme danger, as a result of the inward jamming of the flight-

fight response, each response blocking the other, the rabbit just sits there staring off into space,

blanking out. Now, for better or for worse, law school classroom, trial, and appellate oral

argument, and, a variety of other common situations in legal practice, can engender a certain

amount of fear, promoting the flight-fight response, and the “tharn” reaction. This situation is

not unlike a deer who blanks out when its eyes are caught in the headlights of an oncoming car at

night. Once we recognize this, however, hopefully, rationally, we can train ourselves to blank

out less, and to push through any initial fear or blanking out. In this case, practice makes

perfect. Practice. Practice. Practice. Be prepared. Mr. Smith, be ready next time for this case,

especially in light of our earlier discussion of jurisprudence. Class, that’s it for today. Thanks.”


Colonel Georg Gregor stood in front of the United Nations War Crime Tribunal sitting in

Prague. “Colonel Gregor, you have been charged with Crimes Against Humanity, based upon

the conduct of you and your men in the Bosnian civil war, how do you plead?” “Not guilty, your

Honor,” replied Gregor’s attorney. “Alright, then let’s have the first witness for the

prosecution.” “Your Honor,” answered the Prosecutor, “there are no witnesses, they have all

been murdered subsequent to the imprisonment and charging of Colonel Gregor.” “Murdered,”

“How?” replied the Judge. “Most of them were shot, your Honor, I’m sorry,” replied the

Prosecutor. “Isn’t there any other evidence?” asked the Judge. “No, your Honor, not that I

know of.” “Well, Colonel Gregor, I want you to know that in my opinion you are a blight on

humanity, unfortunately, however, the Rule of Law requires that you go free for lack of evidence.

Case dismissed.”

Far away in Guam, sequestered in a Jesuit Community lived Jesuit Faher Mahoney.

Mahoney, a victim of Colonel Gregor’s evil attacks, barely survived a massacre in which all of

his friends and parishoners we tortured and killed. Colonel Gregor’s face was imprinted on his

mind forever. Some day justice would be done. But not now. It was time to recuperate and

then get back to America as soon as possible.


Father Andy Novacek was on the way out the door of the Jesuit Novitiate in Lewistown,

when he ran into Father Tony Fitzgerald. “Well, Tony, how’s it going?” asked Father Andy.

“Pretty good, Andy, how about you?” “Fine, thanks” Andy replied, “Say,” he continued,” I’m

on my way out to go parasailing, do you want to come along?” “Me, parasail,” replied Tony,

“you’ve got to be kidding.” “No guts, no glory. It’s actually pretty easy,” said Father Andy

knowing that Tony had already had special forces training ‘out of frame’ in a slightly different

quantum reality. “Alright, I guess I could give it a try. I’ll wear my “Joe Namath” knee brace.

This is with a glide parasail right, it’s a glide chute?” “Yup, that’s it,” replied Father Andy.

“Alright, let me change clothes and get my knee brace and then I’ll be right down,” I said.

It took us a half hour drive in Andy Novacek’s “assigned” Toyota blue truck to reach the

smaller county airport. The municipal airport was of course reserved for big jumbo passenger

and freight jets. We walked into the hangar where the pilot was busy doing a pre-flight check

on a small Cessna Dakota fixed wing airplane. “Hey, Joe, how is it going?” asked Father Andy,

“Fine,” replied the pilot. “Have an observer along today?” “No,” said Andy, “this is Father

Tony Fitzgerald, he is going to jump too.” “Oh yeah, well good for you. I wouldn’t do it

myself, but then again you guys have Divine Providence on your side, don’t you?” replied Joe. “I

thought it through for a moment,” “Well,” I said, “I guess we do, but you know what they say,

Divine Providence can always make good come out of bad, and in this case I’d rather not deal

with the bad. I know the stories of guys whose chutes haven’t opened and who have fallen 1,200

feet into plowed fields and lived... but with every bone in their body broken. I think I’ll pass on

that.” Father Andy opened his storage locker and took out two prefolded chutes. “These glide

chutes are prepackaged in the factory. They are designed for special forces use. They are

disposable, you only use them once,” said Father Andy.

Andy put his chute on and I followed suit. “Now remember,” he said, the primary pull

cord handle is above your hearth on your left, and the emergency pull cord for the emergency

chute is by your gut. Don’t make the fatal mistake that some guy did during World War II in

chute training for airborne. “What was that? I asked, not wanting to know. “Oh, in the middle

of training they changed the location of the handles on the parachutes from the right side to the

left side. The guy went out the door, fell for a few hundred feet and then went for his chute.

Unfortunately he panicked and instinctively thought that his chute cord handle was on the right

side. They found his body in some trees on the ground with a bloody gouge on the right hand

side of his body. “Why? I asked. “Because, boyo, the chute had the handle on the left and

unfortunately he reverted to his earlier training where on autoconscioussness he thought the

chute cord handle was on the right. His animal instincts betrayed him.” “How wonderful,” I

said. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

“How long do I drop before I pull the rip cord? I asked. “Well, we are jumping at

about 1,200 feet, I’d just count to five or so to make sure you’ve cleared the airplane.” “Have

you ever jumped from a Storch?” I asked. “Now, how in the hell would you know about a

World War II Storch German Recon plane?” asked Andy. “I dunno, I just read I guess.”

“Hey Joe, is it possible to jump from a Storch?” asked Andy. “A Storch recon plane? Yeah, I

suppose so, but I’d be careful of the struts, you wouln’t want to get tangle up in the wing.” he


We jumped at 1,500 hundred feet instead of 1,200 on Joe’s advice. Andy went first, then

me. “One, two, three, four, five,” I told myself after jumping from the plane, and then pulled the

cord. The chute immediately sent a streamer up and then opened with a jerk that seemed to pull

up a hundred feet or so. I floated for about a minute, making sure that the chute was fully

inflated. Below me, Andy Novacek was already goofing around. His Dad had been a

Czech paratrooper during World War II and had fought with the Screaming Eagles, the 101st

Airborne. The elite special forces regiment. Only the Rangers and the 82nd Airborne could

come close. The Rangers had a long lineage, having been founded as Roger’s Rangers during

the French and Indian War, recruiting primarily from Upstate New York and Pennsylvnia.

Many of those Rangers ended up fighting with General Francis Marion, “The Swamp Fox

Dragoon,” with the South Carolina Militia. The Swampfox Dragoons kept two thirds of the

British forces in the south and put enough pressure on the British that they stopped adhering to

Magna Charta in the American colonies, politically striking the death knell for the British in


“Well, enough musing.” I started experimenting with the glide cords on my chute

immediately above my head. I pulled the left cord and the left side of the chute caved in a bit and

I started turning to the left. This was a great chute because it had two sets of cords, not just one.

Russian Speznae special forces paratroopers had similar chutes. If you played your cards right at

about 250 feet you gently pulled in on both back cords, just a little, then the back of the chute

would collapse just a bit and the chute would start moving forward horizontally. When you

reached the ground, most of your momentum pushed you forward on the run instead of straight

down into the ground. How I knew all of this, I didn’t know, maybe I read it someplace, or

maybe it was just intuition. In any event at 250 feet I did just what I planned to do, and rock ‘n

roll I landed on the run, running for only about 15 or 20 feet before it stopped. Andy was

already wrapping his chute up. “Nice ride n glide” he said. “Thanks, Andy, that was great,” I

said. We set off a transponder beeper and a truck from the airport picked us up about 15

minutes later. On the way home we stopped at the Bohemian Café, eat some roast duck with

glazed orange sauce, and slammed down some Pilsner Urquell Czech beer. God, was it great to

be a Jesuit.


Father Stan Fitzhugh adjusted his brown cotton weave string tie, made sure the buttons on

his cotton blue oxford shirt were buttoned, and then put on his brown tweed sportscoat. He then

walked from the Novitiate over to the vestibule of the Catholic Church next door where he met

Sister Joan Parker. They went in together, hoping they weren’t too late for the Friday, 5:00,

p.m., mass. They sat discreetly in a side pew, about two thirds of the way back.

Father Andy Novacek was saying mass this time. The gospel was interesting. The

parable of the talents. It was funny, I always wondered whether the word “talent” in english, that

is vocational skill, was the same as that in the original Greek or Aramaic of the Gospel. Father

Novacek started out with his homily, “Well, in this gospel we find Jesus once again playing head

games with us. He is making metaphysical assumptions that many of us don’t know about.

Here, Jesus assumes that the nature of reality is “on the move” and that if we just play the status

quo we will end up being a loser.

The one who is criticized the most in the gospel is the servant who buries his talents in

the ground, instead of investing them in some way. Here a talent is seen, of course, as money,

but in fact it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that what Jesus is also talking about is our

vocational talents. What we do personally, professionally, for a hobby, or otherwise with the

gifts that we have, such as the ability to play a musical instrument, play a sport, drive a car, be a

dentist, doctor, lawyer, priest, sister, race car driver, whatever. The point is that we are not to

let our talents go to waste, instead we are to develop them, both for the intrinsic good of doing

so, but also to contribute to the common good, the truly worthwhile, and the good, as a critical

thomist ideal.

“So, don’t bury that cash under the mattress,” said Father Andy with a twinkle in

his eye. “Go out and do something with it.” he said. “Take the risk of investing what you have

in some project that will bring about a profit for you, and will contribute to society.” “If nothing

else, read a few books, call up your broker, and play the commodities market.” “ Finally, I must

say that Jesus was a bit over optomistic in the parable.” he said. “Here Jesus was thinking of

people with ordinary everyday consciousness. But remember, there are irrationally evil people

out there, people who do evil things that defy conventional expectations. So, keep in min that

there are Satanic Cults out there who require their adherents to take a poverty vow, seemingly,

literal poverty, as opposed to religious poverty. Because of such literal poverty vows, Satanists

compete with each other to rob, murder, and steal from others, but, once they have accumulated

enough money, they, simply have burning parties where they literally burn all of the cash that

they have accumulated. Such absurdity and idiocy cannot be rationally understood, but can only

be righteously condemned.” “Real religious poverty involves the understanding that you

personally, or a religious superior, representing God Himself, is the trustee at law of everything

that you own. You, on the other hand are the equitable beneficiary, holding equitable title to the

property, and thus the right of possession, but not ownership. The idea that a sadistic, and

perhaps satanic member of a religious community can suddenly bop into your room and take

your favorite Glenn Miller music compact disk, is not only absurd, not only morally wrong, not

only ethically wrong, but is wrong under human civil law, criminal law, natural law, and Divine

Law.” “ Thank you. Have a great weekend.” concluded Father Novacek.

Sister Joan fidgeted throughout the entire mass, especially the homily. The homily

seemed to put her in a bad mood. But, she received the eucharist later in this mass, as did I, so

she must not have had something too huge on her concscience. I thought. At the end of mass we

filed out along with everyone else. Father Andy said hello to myself, Father Stan, and to Sister

Joan on the way out. “Going out on the town tonight?” he asked. “Yeah,” I replied, “we’re

going to “Saving Private Ryan,” at six o’clock, and then to Olive Garden for dinner.” “That

sounds good,” replied Father Andy, “have fun. Don’t drink too much Chianti. Stay out of

trouble.” “Don’t worry, we will” replied Sister Joan. The problem for me was that, the way she

said it, I wasn’t quite sure whether she was going to get us into trouble, or me into trouble, or the

opposite. Ah,well.”

Olive Garden was of course packed, and neither of us were in religious garb, to we

couldn’t pull the poor father or poor sister thing and get seated early. I ordered speghetti and

meat balls with a salad. Sister Joan ordered a salad and some hot naked speghetti. That is,

plain pasta sauteed with cold olive oil.

“Well, the movie was a classic example of senseless violence and a clear sign that we

have to move from patriarchy to matriarchy,” said Sister Joan. “Really,” Father Stan replied, “I

didn’t take the movie that way. I know there was a lot of blood and guts, maybe even more than

what was there in real life, but what does that mean in terms of the justness of the war on the part

of the Americans against Nazi tyranny?” I asked. She looked a little bit confused, as if her

“infallible” statement regarding patriarchy and matriarchy would be automatically accepted at

face value.

“I don’t believe that there is a “just war,” replied Sister Joan, “just more violence.”

“Well, Joan, how do you define violence? I mean, would it be ok for a woman to defend herself

from a rape attack if she had the ability to do so, or would that be just more “violence,?” Sister

Joan looked even more confused. This was not going the way she had planned. Usually the

whole thing was a “slam dunk” by this point. “Well, I’m not sure the two are the same

situation.” replied Sister Joan. “Well, ok, how would you distiguish the two situations, then, I

asked?” “Well, I’ll have to think about that,” she said, “If you will excuse me, I have to use the


Once inside the toliet stall in the women’s restroom and safely ensconced on the rim of

the toliet Sister Joan immediately “went internal” and began channeling to her superior in the

KGB SMERSH terrorist organization that she worked for, Father Leon Andrev. “Leon, I just

can’t take this anymore, Father Stan is getting to me. It’s like they are training them a different

way now. All he does is “go socratic” on me and ask questions to clarify my postion, which of

course is typically logically indefensible. What am I supposed to do? she asked. “Well,”

Father Leon replied, “I’ll have to have a hitter brought in from Prague, we just can’t afford to

have a guy like Stan floating around.” “Do I have to be involved?” she asked. ‘No,”

replied Father Leon, “I’ll see if he can use poison first, rather than shooting him.” “Alright then,

well, goodbye.” “Sister,” “I would say that you are sick and ditch the date, no sense in taking

any more chances,” said Father Leon. “Alright, thanks, bye.” she said as she turned off her

internal psychic accessing.

What neither Joan Parker nor Leon Andrev, knew, however, was that Father Tony

Fitzgerald at home on his recliner in his family room in the Jesuit Novitiate, as well as Father

Stan himself, were both listening to the psychic conversation of their adversaries through the use

of Quantum Channeling. “Now what?” Channeled Father Stan to Father Tony. “Well, they are

bound to get you sooner or later with the poison, so we’ll have to take countermeasures.

Remember, Father Stan, as a critical thomist you are always already immortal, agreed?” “Sure,

but.... “ replied Father Stan, as he went into a deep trance state. And, always already immortal

as a critical thomist you are, Father Stan, isn’t that true?” “Well, yes,” he replied. Finally, you

Father Stan, always already immortal you are, as a critical thomist?” already? “Yes,” he replied.

“Good then,” said Father Tony, “all we have to do now I make sure that you do not eat or drink

too much of one thing. Small amounts of poison will help you to shift probability fields better,

and we will benefit from this, rather than being hurt by it.” “Time to sign off” said Father Stan,

here she comes.

“Well, sister, everything come out all right?” asked Father Stan. She looked confused

and didn’t catch the doble entendre. “Well, to tell you the truth, I think that I need to go home, I

am not feeling that well,” she said. “I need to take a bath,” she continued. “A bath, Sister?” at

your age?” I asked. “Well, really a shower, I guess,” she replied. “Oh, I responded.” I

remembered that on of the weaknesses of KGB cybernetic programming is that they cannot

distinguish between a “bath” and a “shower.” Apparently in russian, the two words both come

under the heading “bath.” I chuckled to myself. This is an interesting assignment, as we left the



The train into Potsdam “East Germany,” was late by 45 minutes, but Colonel Georg

Gregor didn’t care. He was free, and on his way to new employment. Once the wall came down

he thought that terrorism in the West was over, but not it was clear that it was not. He was

contacted in Prague immediately after his “trial,” and was put on a train to Potsdam. His

nominal new employer was the East German State Police, The Stasi, but his real assignment was

to activate Beider Meinhoff terrorist cells in West Germany and help train them to go first to

Italy, and then to America. The Swazi, the new Nazi espionage agency was also involved. The

new party of East Germany, and hopefull West Germany as well, was the Nazcom Party. The

Hitler Stalin Pact was once again on the board.

He spent several months in Potsdam training and recruiting protoges. His next move

would be to move as many of his operatives into West Germany as possible, murdering

professors, particularly law professors, and then taking their jobs over through the use of brute

force, hypnotism, and psychic mind control.

Gregor enjoyed his postion on the faculty at Heidelberg. Using the outdated legal

doctrine of primogeniture, and brute force, he had gotten his position with tenure, and had place

three fourths of the faculty with his protoges. In the meantime he had used the primogeniture

doctrine to acquire more real property in West Germany than he could imagine. He was the

lartgest landlord in West Germany, and, using the theory of primogeniture, he had been able to

convince his tenants that they were his vassals, i.e., his serfs. He collected their payroll checks,

their welfare checks, and told them what jobs they could work in. But now his orders from

Potsdam had changed, it was time to expand his terrorist operation into Italy. The whole thing

was humorous to him. He had convinced every German that he had met that Opus Dei, the

former Catholic organization dedicated to putting Catholic Royals on the thrones of Europe, had

now been converted to Al Queda, or the Movement of Allah, and had convinced all of them to

join his Satanic cult, the Sons of Leviathan, and to convert to Islam. He would use the same

stragegy in Italy, and then get control of the Vatican.


Father Tony Fitzgerald started class with a clap of thunder. In fact, he clapped his hands

in applause to the class for continuing to talk and gossip rather than settle down for class. Soon

the class got the message and quieted down. “I applaud you for being here and being ready for

class” I said. “I believe that State v. Shack , is the first case.” “I believe that Stan Smith

volunteered for this one last time, Stan, what’s this case about?” I asked.

“Well, Father, its about migrant farm workers at a farm in New Jersey. Two of the

workers want to see a legal aid attorney and a social worker in the housing where they are living

on the migrant farm. The attorney and the social worker come out, but the farmer-owner of the

property refuses to let them on, and has them charged with criminal tresspass.”

“Alright Stan, that was great, now, how about it, how should this case turn out, does the

lawyer and social worker have a right to be on the private property of the farmer?” I asked.

“Well, the court ended up saying yes, but I’m not sure that was right,” replied Stan. “OK, Stan,

what did the court say to support its holding that there was no criminal tresspass in this case?” I

queried. “Well, Father they said that property is there to serve human needs and human values,

and that the private property interests of the owner had to give way to the social interest, or

public interest, or, I guess you could say, the common good.” “Alright, good, now, let’s see,

Jane, Jane Barker.” “Yes, Father,” “Jane, did the court do the right thing here, is this sound

reasoning and a good result, substantively?”

“Well, Father, I’m not sure that a person’s property should give way to some public good,

without the person being compensated.” she said. “Alright, so maybe this looks like a taking

under the fifth amendment. We haven’t talked about this yet class, but the fifth amendment to

the United States Constitution requires that just compensation be paid if the government takes

your property, and, sometimes the government can be required to pay if in fact the regulation of

real propety goes too far. That was the holding in the Mahon Coal case in Pennsylvania..”

“Here, though, that outcome would be difficult, given the court’s holding. Anybody see why?” I

asked. “Yes, Jane.”

“Well, Father the state court held that under state property law, the property interest

which the farmer held did not include in the first place, the right to exclude the social worker or

the legal aid attorney. I think therefore that there wouldn’t be a taking because the real property

interest did not include that right in the first place. No right taken away, then, no taking.”

“That analysis is right on the money Jane, you are on a roll today, thank you.” “Now, Stan, Jane

has pointed out that the court defined property law in such a way under New Jersey state law, that

there really wasn’t a taking, or in a sense anything wrong with the men being allowed on the

property, what do you think?” “I don’t know Father. I mean this sounds like word games now,

I mean, is property anything that the court says it is? That doesn’t seem right to me.”

“Well, Stan, ironically enough, up to a point at least, property is what the court says it is.

Now, I’m not going to go Po Mo here or be an extreme relativist and say that property can mean

or be anything, but there is room for a certain amount of reasonable interpretation. If a court

goes too far out there, the holding becomes inconsistent with the logical premises which underly

the law. In that case we can say that the court was wrong in doing what it did. Now, here, did

the court do the right thing? I think as a matter of policy and values, the court did do the right

thing. On the other hand, I don’t think that the court had to come to the end that it did using the

reasoning that it did. The idea that property somehow always, already, does not include the

rights that we traditionally think it does, is a bit troubling to a lot of lawyers and judges. “Well,

if you look at it that way, what’s the solution?” asked Stan. “Well, anybody have an idea?” I

asked the class.

A woman raised her hand. “Yes, Ms. Green?” “Father this all seems ridiculous to me, I

mean who cares. As far as I’m concerned this is a communist country. I don’t know anybody

who cares about the law anymore. I thought that critical legal studies and post modernism did

away with legal education and law practice based on some chimerical idea of reason based law.”

“Well then why are you here, Ms. Green?” “Because I need the credential to get some place

professionally, and that’s it.” “So, Lewistown, is just a diploma mill, is that it Ms. Green?”

“Hopefully.” she replied.

“Well, Ms. Green in response to your rather interesting observations, this country will

never go communist. At its best it is both a republic and a social democracy, but it is not a

totalitarian dictatorship. There have been at least four coup attempts in this country by the

communist party since the Communist Manifesto was published in 1848 by Karl Marx, and, they

have all been unsuccessful. I might as well tell you now. The founding Fathers enacted, sub

nom, that is confidentially, the National Security Act, and believe me it is still in force. It

prohibits fascist, communist, or nazi totalitarian politics in state, local, or the federal government,

and interestingly enough, it also prohibits such politics in academia. The National Security Act

of 1947 is the toughest. Federal and state judges, upon the appropriate showing, can issue death

warrants for those in violation of the National Security Act. It’s been done before, and it will be

done again. So, Ms. Green, is it possible that a cadre of politicians in the Republican Party have

attemped a coup attempt, and even themselves consider this to be a communist government?

Maybe. But in the end all of them will be shot, if they are lucky and hung, drawn, and quartered

if they are not for treason. Comprende?” “Now, back to the point at hand, the court here in

Shack should have used the traditional means of an easement, which is a limited non-possessory

interest, to accommodate the needs of the workers. The defense to the charge should have been

plead in equity so that the extraordinary circumstances of the case could be fully examined.”

“Ms. Green, are you leaving?” I said, as she headed down the aisle for the door into the hallway.

“I hate you, you are a misoginist pig, I’m quitting.” she said. “Well, Ms. Green, I’ll take all of

this as a compliment, thank you. Have a nice Day.” “Well, class, I think that that is enough

for today. See you tomarrow. Read the Fish cases. Thanks.


Colonel Gregor had never been in Saint Peter’s in Rome, before, it was magnificient.

What a shame it will all have to come down, he thought. The roman politburo needed the space

for its new ‘kremlin.” The Beider Meinhoff terrorists took the Swiss Guards comletely by

surprise. A spray of strichnine gas into the face, and poof, they were out. They kept the Pope

up for five days, torturing him and hypnotising him. Soon, the Pope, along with Cardinal

Ratzinger and Jesuit General Father Hans Kolvenbach, would be putty in his hands.


Flight training school in Florida was fun for Georg Gregor. He was happy with the

progress he was making. The one difficulty was that he could simply not conceptualize a Zero.

He could only stick count or use Roman numerals. He could not count with American, (Hindu

Arabic) numbers. Soon his quota of pilots for the 9/11 attack and beyond would be trained and

would disperse. He had to firmly establish his cover before that time as Dean Georg Shank, of

Lewistown School of Law. The invasion of the Vatican had be much easier than he thought. \

In the end he was not sure about Father Kolvenbach. Kolvenbach’s Jesuit training was making

it very difficult to be sure the the cybernetic programming the Gregor was unsing on him would

really work. It was very difficult to hynotize a strong, logical, classically educated mind. When

one’s mind is only allowed to change by small accretions, and not by conversion, it is very

difficult to make a substantial change. Kolvenbach might seem to have been programmed for

terorism and fundamental irrationality, but one could never be too sure. A real Jesuit always

despises the authoritarian mode, and instead supports reasonable authority based upon

competence. Gregor had had his fill of Jesuit priests. Everywhere he went to school there were

always at least two of them on the faculty, and, they never let him, Gregor, off the hook for being

a fundamentalist moslem. Gregor always chose blind obedience to authority over other ways of

knowing and doing, at it usually seemed to work, especially when he was the authority for others.

But the Jesuits never bought this. To them, one always had the right and even the obligation to

question authority. One of them in Heidelberg even had bumper sticker on his brief case which

said, “Question Authority.” Well, no matter, Gregor thought to himself, soon they will have

amassed enough psychic strength to rule the world by psychic thought control and psychic

messaging. The only real problem was the American midwest, and particularly legal academia

in the American midwest. Law, apparently was and is an occult profession in some sense. He

had spoken to law school audiences twice about Bosnia, to little effect. The professors did’t

seem to able to be hypnotised. Well, my next step is to interview for the job as the Dean of the

Law School, at Lewistown University. I should be able to get a better idea of things, there, and

to start to dismantle the current faculty in favor of a new Po Mo idealist faculty. With this in

mind, Gregor went to bed.


Tony Fitzgerald walked into the smoking lounge in the Jesuit Residence located across

the street from the Novitiate. All of the Jesuits, excepts the Novices, of course, who lived and

worked in the Novitiate also had rooms in the Residence, nicknamed the “La Residencia,” by

some, the “big house,” by others. If you wanted to keep up with what was going on in the

province, in this case Minnesota Province, of the Society of Jesus, then you couldn’t spend all of

your time over at the Novitiate. The Jesuits had four of twelve seats on the Board of Directors at

Lewistown University, although officially, and for purposes of Rome, the University was

nominally Episcopalian. There was no campus church. A Jesuit parish, Holy Trinity, parish

was located only a block away from the campus. The Novitiate and the Residencia were both

located right on the edge of campus, across the street.

Father Nick Stanford, S.J., was seated in a recliner across the room, smoking his pipe and

reading the Wall Street Journal. “Hey, Nick, how’s it going?” I asked. “Great, T, how about

you?” “Fine, thanks.” Nicholas Thomas Stanford had been one of my management professors

at Creighton University in undergrad school. He had been very influential in my entering the

Society. He was now the Dean of the School of Management at Lewistown U., specializing in

turning profit maximizing corporations into moderation corporations. He did a lot of consulting

work, and had a big following both on and off campus.

“So, what’s new?” I asked. “Well, what’s new is that your Sigma Alpha Epsilon pledge

son from Creighton, Mike Corgill, or is it Dan, I always forget? Anyway, he just got a tenure

track position over at your shop, in the law school.” “Your kidding,” I said, “why didn’t

anybody tell me?” I asked. “Oh, for his sake, and for yours, we didn’t want to let you know till

the deal was done. He’s a visiting professor at Marquette in Milwaukee, this Fall, and will be

starting this Spring Semester. Now what is it, Dan or Mike?” “Oh,” I said, his full name is

Michael Daniel Thomas Corgill, but he has a first cousin who lived down the street from him

who also was named Mike, so he usually goes by his middle name, Dan.” “Oh, that explains it

then,” said Nick .

“Did you know that Dan got married last year?” I asked Nick. “No, I didn’t know that,”

said Nick. “Yeah, I made it to the wedding reception only, I got caught in traffic. Dan lives on

the south side of Chicago, as you might recall.” “Anyway, his wife is an ex nun Catholic grade

school teacher from South Dakota. She is a Tomasek, a fourth cousin of mine on the Czech

side.” I said. “Oh, really,” said Nick, “I keep forgetting that you are Czech, Irish, German, the

Norman Irish thing tends to block the rest out most of the time.” “Yeah,” I said, “I am a

Novotny on the Czech side and a Faesler on the German side. They say we are royals on every

branch of the family.

We all got out of Europe after the revolutions of 1848 in Europe and came to the United

States around 1850. Although there were representatives of each of the families going all the

way back to about 1690. We fought in both the French and Indian War for the British against the

French, and then for the American colonies against the British. That makes me a Son of Liberty,


They say that my ancestor Adolphus Schwinn was the Adjuct General of the

Continiental Army. He came over with a huge number of Hessian mercanaries soldiers, hired by

the British, guessing that the British wouldn’t pay them when they got over here, making sure

that they could ditch if the British army did not pay them. Well, they didn’t get paid and the

entire army went over to the American side. You know the story of Washington crossing the

Delaware river in the middle of Winter to surprise the Hessian garrison. In fact the whole thing

was orchestrated so that the Hessians would have a way out of the British Army when not in a

combat situation. They say the party that the American’s and the newly American German

Hessians had that night was so huge that there was no ale or beer to be found in the area for an

entire year afterwards.”

“So, how is Dan getting along with married life?” asked Nick. “Well, I’m not too sure.

I haven’t heard from him lately. I think that they adopted a baby girl, Katherine, Katy, for

short, the poor kid had colic and would start crying at nine at night and wouln’t get to sleep until

two in the morning. His wife Jane seems to be the over sensitive type, Dan says that he usually

ends up staying up with Katy until two in the morning while his wife Jane went to sleep.”

“That’s odd,” said Nick, “ I mean, who was working at the time?” “Well, that’s just it, he was

working as a lawyer in the Illinois attorney general’s office in the Consumer Fraud division, and

she wasn’t working working at all.” I said.

“Well, why the hell didn’t she stay up then?” asked Father Nick. “Good question,” I

said, “but totally politically incorrect, if you get my drift.” “What do you mean?” asked Nick.

“Well, I can see it in my sisters too. Somehow this generation of women think that they should

be treated like royalty on the throne, and I’m not talking about the toliet. I don’t think that they

believe in cooking, cleaning, or doing laundry. When they work out side the home, they demand

to keep all of the paycheck. Apparently, what is the wife’s is her’s and what is the husband’s is

negotiable.” I said.

“Why the hell did he marry her?” asked Nick. “Well, presumably she was great in

bed.” I said, laughing. “No, seriously though, I’ve talked to a lot of my friends from college

about this and they say that the guys are just getting bamboozeled during the dating and

engagement period. I mean it’s all OK until the kids come out of the chute isn’t it? Then

suddenly what are you going to do, let the lazy semi abusive wife have custody of the kids and

the dog.

No, by that point you are trapped. Your Catholic compassion and upbringing won’t let

you abondon those kids when they are younger than six years old or so. By that time its too

late, you can’t get out. Somehow, in spite of a great career, you have become house poor, big

charge bills, big mortgage, and a wife who seemingly spends most her time running “errands.”

The twleve hour shopping trip with only one or two purchases is not unusual at this

point.” I said. “One wonders,” I continued, “who is training these women. I mean the pattern

is just too widespread to be a coincidence. If we still had the cold war maybe we could

hypothesize some heinous KGB plot to demoralize American men using psychological warfare.”

“Well, its not just America,” replied Nick, “I remember now a story on National Public Radio

that Italian men are staying bachelors, and aren’t getting married. The story tried to imply that

the Italian men were spoiled and insensitive, but in light of what you are saying, I bet the Italian

men have figured out what is going on and they are boycotting the situation. What do you think

is going on?” asked Nick.

“Me,” I said, “well, on information and belief, using intuition and gut instinct, I’d say that

the women are practicing black magic and are in Satanic Cults and/or witches covens. Voodoo,

jumbalai, santaria, the Legion of God, the Sons of Leviathan, the Daughters of Eve, the Sons of

Judas Iscariot, you take your pick.” I said. “Jesu merde, how can you know all of this?” asked


“Oh, people talk, a lot of it is in novels, and then of course you may remember that I,

here, am envoking the National Security Act in my favor, as a registered Quantum Psychic and

N.S.A. agent. I channel on their bandwidths a great deal of the time. They really spend a huge

amount of their time engaging in psychic channelling. Its too bad they aren’t trying to help us

instead of the Cuban Mafia and Cuban KGB who seem intent on stealing the show.” “See if any

of the guys you talk to in confession or otherwise complain about missing clothes, shrunken

clothes, swollen feet, numb toes, those are all signs that the guy is being satanically abused. For

the satanists, if nice guys don’t finish last, then they, the satanists are finished.” “The best is

when you realize that your spouse spends three fourths of her time returning merchandise for

cash. You still pay the charge bill, but she and her satanic friends get the cash. Rock n roll.”

“Well, I’ve got to get back to the Novitiate,” Tony said, “when is Dan moving up here?”

“I’ve heard that they have a house already and should be moving up within the next month.”

said Nick. “Well, that’s great then, we’ll have to have him over for dinner and Friday night

penny ante poker as soon as he get’s into town.” “Sounds good then, see you later.” I said.


I, Father Tony Fitzgerald, S.j., opened the morning newspaper and read the front page:

“Much to my surprise, the headline read “Lewistown Law Dean Mohnihan, Dead.” “ President

appoints temporary Dean Georg Gregor, Jesuit from Italy.” Said the Front Page Story. Now

what? I wondered. Well, I’m glad that I have tenure already. I thought to myself, now I have to

call net. “Hey, Stan what’s going on?” I asked. “I don’t know” he replied. “Well cousin,” I

said, “ I am asserting primogeniture over you and your house in the name of Jesus Christ, at law,

and in favor of my self in equity.” “Agreed?” “Fine by me” said Fitzhugh. “I don’t go by that

stuff anyway.” “Where is this new guy from?” I asked. “Most recently, the Gregorian in

Rome, before that Heidelberg for a master’s degree in canon law, before that, Heidelberg

Germany,” I said. “Well it will be interesting to see how the faculty likes him.” ‘Yeah, it will.”


Spring 1996

Dean Georg Gregor called the the first faculty meeting of the spring semester to order.

“I want to thank everyone for their confidence in me as Dean, and I want to assure you that I will

do my best to advance the agenda of both the law school and the University as your Dean. Let

me tell you a little bit about myself. I have taught canon law for the last five years in Rome, and

I have a Phd. In Law from Heidelberg. I take a conservative approach to law.” “Now, any

questions, before we get started?” “Yes?” “Oh, I just wanted to mention that my name is Dan

Corgill, and that I am just starting on the tenure track, and that, quite frankly, I need an office.”

“Thanks for letting me know that Dan,” said Dean Gregor, as he made a careful note on

his 14 inch yellow legal pad. “Bill, could you find Dan an office? You may have to move out

one of the adjuncts.” said Dean Gregor to Vice Dean Bill Parker. “Sure, I’ll take care of that,”

said Bill Parker. “See me after the meeting Dan and I’ll show you to your office and get out the

squatter.” said Vice Dean Parker. Bill Parker was interesting. Under Dean Moynihan, all

Parker did was moan and complain about the law school administration, but suddenly under the

new Gregor regime, Parker had a halo above his head, seemingly unable to do no wrong. It was

nice of Parker to let Dean Gregor stay at his, Parker’s house for two weeks while Gregor found a

house of his own, thought Tony Fitzgerald to himself, but then I guess, legal academia makes

strange bed fellows. Well, I thought, I don’t want Dan to be one of their strange bedfellows, I

had better get with the program and get him initiated to academia, Jesuit style, before Parker or

Gregor get ahold of him.

The Dean droned on for about thirty minutes about simple nothing, a bad sign for the

future. The Vice Dean Parker waxed eloquent about attendance and grading policies for another

30 minutes. I was so pissed off by the end of the meeting because I could see that I was going to

have to go to all of the faculty meetings to prevent Gregor and Parker from pulling a fast one on

the faculty. To bad there wasn’t some way of teleconferencing the meeting while I was on the

golf course, perhaps a earphone microphone set plugged into my cell phone. Maybe.....”

After the meeting was over I intercepted Dan before Bill Parker could get to him. “Hey

Dan, how is it going Son?” ( He was my pledge son after all). “Great, Dad,” responded Corgill.

Bill Parker looked at both of us with a strange look in his eye. “I don’t like Jesuits on the law

faculty,” thought Parker, “they make me nervous. They have too much cover and too much

education.” “Your Son, Father Tony,” asked Vice Dean Bill, “how could that be?” he asked

with a smirk. “Rah rah Bon Ton Sigma Alpha Epsilon, rah rah Bon Ton Sigma Alpha Epsilon,

roo ra, roo ra, roo ra ree, Sigma Alpha Epsilon, SAE.” Dan and I chanted togather, then high

fiving it with a slap. “We won the All University Basketball Championship at Creighton, and

the All Province Championship held at Nebraska. We’re both Academic All Americans,

intramurals count you know.” said Father Tony.

“Well, Dan, neither the athletics or the fraternity is going to help you here, you are on

your own. Merit and primogeniture are what count.” “Primogeniture?” asked Dan, “what is

that?” “Well, we can talk about that later in my office. See me right after lunch in my office

about getting you an office.” “Alright,” said Dan, “that sounds good.” “Dan, you can use my

office until you get something set up. I have another office next to my room in the Big House.”

“The big house?” asked Dan. “The J.R., you know, the Jesuit Residence.” said Tony. “Come

on Dan, I’ll take you out for Dinner and you can tell me what you have been up to.” I said. “See

you later, Bill. Have a nice evening.” I continued. Bill Parker did not look happy, but then

again, I didn’t expect him to.

I ushered Dan Corgill out the door and into a cab. “All right driver, let’s try Antonio’s

down by the river.” “Yes, Father,” replied the driver. “Well, Dan, out of the frying pan into

the fire,” I said. “What do you mean?’ asked Dan. “Well, its fairly obvious to me that Bill

Parker is going to be expecting a quid pro quo in exchange for you getting an office tomarrow.” I

said. “What to you mean, money?” asked Dan. “No, probably a little more than that, I suspect

that dear Bill wants your soul.” I said. “My, soul,” said Dan, “what the hell do you mean?” “I

mean O naive one, that Vice Dean Bill is undoubtedly a homo sexual predator as well as a

satanic cult member. The only question for you in his mind is whether you will get his sausage

in your mouth or in your butt.” I said. “That’s crazy, that won’t happen to me, I’ll kick the shit

out of the guy.” said Dan.

“Well, good for you Dan, and then his accomplice in the next room dials 911 and calls for

the EMS truck to take you to a psychiatric hospital for having a “psychotic episode.”“ I said.

“Are you armed?” I asked. “You mean a gun?” asked Dan. “Yeah,” I replied. “Well, I’ve got a

clip lock blade that I carry on the inside of my pants on the waist.” “Well, that is part of what is

saving you. They are all psychic you know, they can remote view, remote hear, even remote

smell. They do keep track. One of the rules, however, is that you never run in some one who is

armed.” I said.

“Do you own a shot gun?” I asked. “Well, no, I don’t. But I do have a Benjamin 177

caliber air pistol and a BAM 177 caliber high powered air rifle.” “Well, good for you,” I said,

“in the lore a Ben or a BAM is considered an accretion to the classical shot gun rule, so you’ve

got cover. On top of that, although it is tough, you are better off. An air rifle or pistol which

uses hydraulic power and a spring mechanism is considered a Roman weapon in the lore which

operates at a deeper level of reality. Although it is difficult to imagine, you will probably defeat

a man armed with a gun powder weapon. Gun powder typically can only discharge at level two

because saltpeter, on of the ingredients, is organic in nature. I suggest that you also get a Black

Handled Buck hunting knife. Make sure that you place your mark on it.”

“Anyway, make sure that you carry your lock blade with you to your meeting with Bill

Parker tomarrow. Do you own a pen knife?” I asked. “Well, no, not really.” Dan said. “Well,

go to the sporting goods store, even K Mart will do, and get a black special forces pen knife,

either a Gerber or a Shrade. Wear a 30 inch chain around your neck with Saints medals too.

Saint Anthony and the Christ Child as well as Saint Anne and the Child Mary, are the best, along

with Thomas the Apostle. Most Satanic cults try to use the power of Saint Peter the Apostle,

whom they consider to be an Apostate Saint, for denying Jesus, and for being crucified upside

down as the “Hanged Man.”

“We use Saint Thomas the Apostle, Patron Saint Thomism, and critical thinking.

Doubting Thomas is our Man.” “We also use Saint Anne, Mother of Mary, as our Holy Spirit of

Divine Wisdom, or Sophia. She had Mary as an immaculately conceived child, yet, at the same

time, the lore has it that she had ten other children, clearly she was not a virgin.” “We use her to

protect ourselves from the Satanic cults who typically use “The Virgin” as part of their system.

To the extent that “The Virgin” is the Virgin Mary, Saint Anne, as her Mother of course has

primogeniture over her as a matter of natural law.”

They got out of the cab. “Let’s take a walk around the block before we go into the

restaurant,” I said. “Dan, the most important thing is for you to get anal baptism tonight before

the meeting tomarrow, even before you go home. It may be that they have already gotten to your

wife, Jane.” “What the hell is anal baptism?” asked Dan. “Well, Dan its an occult secret ritual

in the eastern Byzantine Catholic Church. When Saint Ignatius and his men went on pilgrimage

to the holy land, they were all ordained Byzantine Catholic priests, and one of the things that is

done in preparation for either ordination, or “stepping up” to be ordained by the Holy Spirit, is

anal baptism. In the early church they sometimes used a reed, other times a leather tube was

used. In any event, you bless water and then the lubricating oil, this gives you the sacrament of

baptism as well as extreme unction, that is, the sacrament of the sick or of the dying. Some even

say that such a baptism results in your ordination as a Byzantine Catholic priest. In any event,

the result is that your ground chakra, which is associated with the anus, shifts, as does your

crown chakra, which is associated with the crown of one’s head. It is not unusual to have

problems with spastic colon for awhile. The result is that the recipient has a blessed channel in

the ground chakra which is immediately below the root chakra, associated with the sexual organs,

which the lore states is the source of original sin. The root chakra is directly connected to the

reptilian brain stem, the source of our base emotions.”

“Look, there is a drug store right there, Dan, let’s stop and I’ll buy you an enema. We can

dump out the fluid and fill it with water in the restaurant restroom and grease it with vaseline.

I’ll bless it first just to make sure, then you. Alright?” “Yeah, I guess so,” said Dan, “I guess

that I don’t have much choice given the meeting tomarrow.” After buying the items at the

corner drug store, we went into the restaurant. After we were seated and had ordered we went

back to the men’s restroom. I opened up the enema and dumped it out, then, filled it with tap

water. I then greased the tip of the enema with vaseline.

We each blessed the Water in the Name of the Holy Spirit, the Holy Ghost, and in the

Name of the Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit, offer Jesus through Mary, in the Name of the

Holy Spirit and the Holy Ghost. Amen. Then we did the same for the oil or chrism. “Well,

Dan, its best if you can do it for yourself, that’s the tradition.” I said. Dan went into the stall,

closed the door, and dropped his pants and drawers. Dan then stuck the enema up his butt with

his right hand and squeezed hard. He felt the water go up his colon and then quickly pulled out

the enema and sat down on the toliet. He felt sick. His face was flush, and suddenly he threw up

and had abdominal cramps and the shits.” “I think we should take our food to go.” said Dan.

“Good idea.” “Oh, and Dan.” “Yeah, Tony.” “Please say, I am always already a critical thomist

immortal. OK? “I Dan Corgill am always already a critical thomist immortal.” “Good, that

should help a bit as well.” “You might try that in several different ways and combinations when

you get home.” And he did.


Dan Corgill stopped in at Vice Dean Parker’s office at around one o’clock p.m. He

knocked on the door. Parker opened the door and invited Dan Parker inside. “Well, Dan are

you going to be a team player and play ball with me? asked Dean Parker. “Sure, Dean Parker, I

still shoot hoops, just come down to the gym anytime and we can play some one on one.” “How

is the office situation coming along?” Parker’s eyes glazed over and he seemed to be going into

a trance state. My God, he’s channeling somebody else, he doesn’t know what to do. I thought.

Weren’t you going to give me that adjunct office next to Father Tony’s office?” “I... sure that’s

great.” “OK I’ll tell the janitor then, OK?” “Sure that’s fine.” “Alright then, see you around,”

said Dan, as he exited stage left.

(To be continued)