Latin Catholic by birth, Byzantine Catholic by the grace of God.
Pro: Restoration of the Holy and Universal Christian Roman Empire.
Caveat: The author makes no claim to being an exemplar of Catholicism or Monarchism (or blogging).
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Location: Upstate, New York, United States

Thursday, April 07, 2005

Smokin' hot in church; God of War

God of War is one of the most top-notch video games ever. You have to play this game. The combo system, graphics, music, storyline ... everything. They even do a good job with the Greek mythology.

I can't even believe these graphics are on the PS2; they're downright XBox worthy. The controls are intuitive, there are scads of special attacks and weapons, and you can kill larger monsters (minotaurs, gorgons, cyclopses, etc.) with specialized "finishing move mini-games." Tons o' fun.

Be warned, it's not for the easily offended. Worst, there's unfortunate human cruelty, but the soccer moms will be most upset about the topless females (not that I support gratuitous bosoms in video games, but the censors will have a bigger stick-up-the-rear-end about nudity than they will cruelty, which is objectively worse).


Speaking of occasions of sin, I just went to confession before a daily New Rite Mass yesterday, my last participation in that sacrament being three months ago. I'm praying the Rosary to get my head in the game before Mass begins, relaxing with the blue-hair brigade that populates daily Mass - and who walks in?

A smoking hot twentysomething young lady. And I don't mean upstate New York hot, I mean California hot, or at least New York City hot. White capri pants, skin tight sky blue shirt with belly button showing, long tawny hair, and a light tan.

This isn't fair! I unload myself through a priest to Christ and am trying to prep for the Blessed Sacrament, and not five minutes later, in strolls walking temptation. And such thoughts always make for a mortifying confession.

While it always warms the heart to see my fellow twentysomethings at daily Mass, and she's to be commended for being there, she was dressed for a bar. Not just any regular pub, but a real meat market dance club.

Crazier still, she took Communion on the tongue. That threw me for a loop. And after Mass she kissed the hand of the life-size devotional statue of Christ, and prostrated herself before it.

Okay, I made that last sentence up. But the rest is true, and it's just too much for a red-blooded man to bear.


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