Alter Boys Secret Society - Serving Mass

Altar Boys Secret Society

"I was in. A made man. An Altar boy. A license to skip school virtually almost every day. Life was good. I couldn’t wait for Friday." (From Part One of the Original Altar Boys Secret Society)

Friday morning, 8:01 am, the vestibule, my first meeting as an official Altar Boy. I was very smug as I handed Sister Mary Hateme my excuse slip to ditch class in lieu of a crash course in Altar Boyship. There were 10 new recruits, including myself. We were all seated in folding steel chairs waiting for Father Iatti to arrive. A door opened and slammed and in walked Father Iatti.

Before I go on, I have to describe Father Iatti seen through the eyes of a fifth grader in the 1960's. He was of Italian descent. Dark complexion. Slicked back widows peak jet black hair. Dressed completely in black. All Catholic priests are dressed in black. (Better to blend into the shadows on street corners at night. Or so I've heard) And he had a black velvet cape with a red inseam. Yes, there before me stood Dracula incarnate.

Father Iatti had a booming voice, it could be heard from miles around. His confessional booth was avoided like the plague for fear of having your penance announced to the entire church congregation.

Father Iatti began our session informing us that what we were about to embark on was a sacred rite, and that we would become closer to God serving as altar boys. (I was hoping this is where the secret handshake came in) I would have to wait for that. He told us to follow him into the church so we could understand or duties.

What are an altar boy's duties? From the congregation pews, it looked pretty easy. Walk in with a cross, have a seat, bring some stuff to the altar, hold a sword under the neck of the people going to communion, bring more stuff, walk out with the cross. End of mass. This would be easy.

Father Iatti had a differing opinion. To him, everything had to be exactly perfect. One slip up from us, and the entire mass miracle of the bread, water and wine changing into the body and blood of Christ would all be for naught. No pressure here.

For the rest of the day, we learned the duties of a rookie altar boy. Yes, there were several types of altar boys. First were the rookie altar boys, who only served regular masses. Second, there were veteran altar boys, who not only served regular masses, but also weddings and funerals. And third, the kiss ass altar boy. These ass clowns were the priests pets. They claimed they wanted to be priests when they grew up. (Little did these fella's know what was in store for them in the privacy of the sacristy) They got to pick and choose what mass they would serve. They would also receive the honor of serving holy holiday's and midnight mass and the like.

We stayed in the church the entire day learning the ropes of the altar boy and I missed every class that day. (Take that you nun bitches) Sweet! I was an altar boy one day and already getting perks. Until the hammer fell. Father Iatti felt that we needed more instruction and ordered us to be back at the church at 8am sharp Saturday morning to continue. WTF! Saturday morning, my day off from school, and I had to go back to church. What the hell did I get myself into. My father merely chuckled when I told him about Saturday.

Well, after three grueling weeks of training and two damn Saturdays, I was well trained. I found out what duties each altar boy performed and I was well versed in each aspect. For all you non Catholic folks, (You don't know how lucky you are) the altar boy had specific duties before, during, and after a mass. Usually more than one altar boy served each mass.

Typically, three altar boys served each mass. There was the cross man, who carried the cross in the front of the procession at the beginning and end of the mass. He would plant the cross center altar and retreat behind the altar. He would only resurface at the end of the mass, grab the cross, and lead the procession out.

The other two altar boys were the servers that catered to the priests every whim while at the altar. They followed the cross man in the procession and then took up residence on the right side of the altar. At certain times, the altar boy would have to ring a bell hidden in between the stools. I still don't know why we had to ring the bell, but we did. Three times! Sometimes the ball in the bell would roll around the casing and not ring getting the ire up of the priest on duty.

While the cross guy had no other duties, the servers were an intricate part of the mass. Not only did we ring bells, we also assisted the priest with the presentation of the gifts from the offertory, the bread, (The round white host) the chalice, and the water and wine. At the miracle part of the mass, (When the priest changed the water into wine and the bread into the body of Christ) we sprang into action.

The altar boys would gather the water and wine jars and bring them to the priest. He would pour the all the wine into the chalice and then just a drop of water in as well. He would then give the jars back to us. We would go back to our table and and bring back the water and a white towel. The priest would hold out his hands and one altar boy would pour some water over them. The priest would then wash his hands and take the towel from the other altar boy and dry his hands. He would fold the towel and give itm back to us.

The next duty was the fun part. For communion, we would grab our "Patens" (A 3 foot long gold rod with a gold flat plate attached) and follow the priest down to the railing where all the parishioners were lining up to receive communion. When there was a crowded mass, another priest would appear and assist in giving out communion. The priest would work his way down the railing handing out communion. The altar boys job was to place the paten under the chin of each parishioner to catch and particles of the host that may have fallen.

After communion, the priest would wipe off the patens, and motion to the altar boys to bring more water and a towel. He would then pour some water into the chalice, drink the contents, and clean it out with the towel. He would then beckon for the altar boys again to take the chalice and towel back to our table.

A minute later and the cross guy would appear and the altar boys would walk off the altar with the priest joining them and the mass was over.

I was ready to serve my first mass. The next week, the list of masses were posted and who would be the servers. I scanned for my name and there I was, Sunday mass, 11:30 am. This was a prime time mass, the most attended.

My parents dropped me off at 11am Sunday morning so I could prepare. I walked into the side doors of the sacristy and went to put on my cassock. (A red and white robe worn over your clothes) I then went and filled up the gold bowls with unblessed hosts, filled the wine and water bottles, then went out and dressed the altar. I was wondering where the other altar boys were as it was almost showtime.

Come to think of it, where the hell was Father Iatti? 11:25 gave me my answer. Father Iatti whisked into the sacristy, jumped into his black cassock and said let's go. But wait, where were the other two altar boys. Father Iatti said that it was only me and him today. He wanted to see how rookies acted under pressure.

Damn!

Damn Damn!

Well here we go. I grabbed the cross and made my way to the back of the church. Cue the organ music and away we went. Up the aisle we went with Father Iatti singing behind me. Did I mention that he was a loud talker. His singing was twice as loud. And lousy. But who was going to tell him that.

We reached the front of the church and I went to stick the cross in the holder on the front of the altar. An instant later, terror set in. I couldn't get the cross stem into the holder. CLANG CLANG CLANG. I got it in there folks, it was leaning toward the left, but it was in there.

I assumed my position at the table on the right side of Father Iatti. Thank God I got my screw up over with. WRONG! There would be more. I got two out of three bell ringers correct, one did the dreaded spin around the housing. Father Iatti gave me a Dracula stare letting me know he was pissed and that I couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. (All that in a single one second stare)

Now it was time for the magic. I brought up the water and wine. So far so good. I returned for the towel and water. I forgot to put out a towel before mass. DAMN DAMN! I improvised and took the table cloth from my small server table and took it to the altar along with the water. Father Iatti spied the so-called towel and almost exploded. He took it though but concealed it behind his altar.

I thought Jesus himself would begin the Rapture early and start judgment day with me. But there were no lights, fog, thunder, just organ music signaling communion time. The nightmare was almost over. At this time, I was extremely nervous, wondering what was worse, the wrath of God or Iatti.

I fetched the paten and began the communion ritual. Please Lord, don't let me screw up anymore. hey, I was in a church, God was tuned in. He would hear my plea. God must have been on a different channel. Just as I was about to escape communion, I accidentally jabbed a guy in the neck with the paten. Not hard, just a little tap really, but we had an actor on our hands. He fell to the flow clutching his throat like I had cut him with a machete. However, the paten did it's job, I caught the host that he spit out.

A parish member came up to help the macheted man while Father Iatti took the host and placed it back into the chalice. After a minute of drama, the man took the host from Father Iatti and took his seat. We finished the rest of communion and the mass was ended and I was allowed to grab the cross and go in peace.

As soon as I stepped into the sacristy, Father Iatti was in my grill. His face was like a cartoon, his mouth could fit a bowling ball in it. He was yelling faster than I ever heard before. Suddenly Yosemite Sam snapped into my brain. I saw Iatti yelling but heard Yosemite Sam. "GREAT HORNY TOADS!" I was on the verge of laughing which would have been sudden death. Not the kind in football when a tie in a game occurs, but the real deal, sudden death.

The Lord heard my prayer as I was able to avoid cracking a smile or laughing and took Father Iatti's five minute tirade. He finished with a little cherub telling me that this incident was going on my permanent record. (Big deal! My permanent record entries weighed forty already) I told (Lied) Father Iatti I would try harder next mass. He ended the tirade with, "We shall see Patrick. We shall see!"

I checked the schedule for next week's masses and damn, I was penciled in for the God Damn 7am Saturday service. Either Father Iatti was punishing me with such an early mass, or limiting calatteral damage. Either way, I knew my time as an altar boy would be short.

Next Saturday was rapidly approaching and something told me the tide was ready to turn. We shall see Iatti. We shall see!

PS: And there is no secret handshake.

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

First Confession

I have been asked by many non-Catholic friends just what goes on inside the wooden stalls (Confessionals) in the back of the church. Breaking Vatican II protocol rules and regulations, (Section 3:13, Verse 8, line 5 that clearly state all Catholics must never reveal the ritual of one on one confession to non believers) I am here to expose the exact secret ritual of confession and what a Catholic child went through in those torture chambers (Confessionals) in the 1960's.

On the first day of second grade, 1966, the Nuns gleefully announced that this year would be an exciting year for all us Catholic school kids for we were all going to be introduced to the holy sacraments of confession and holy communion. of course, there would be plenty of studying, quizzes, tests, and eraser zingers (Nuns zipping hidden erasers at children who were talking or being bad) before we would realize these goals.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months as our First Confession lessons dragged on. We learned about the different levels of sin, (Venial and Mortal) and how sin affected our souls and the ability to enter the kingdom of heaven when we died. However, these lessons were redundant for all Catholics, for since birth, we are taught in tedious repetition on all aspects of the Catholic faith. We know what sins we can safely commit to keep us out of Hell. We've all been around the block.

After months of intense study, I was ready for my first confession.
But certainly not my last...

The week before our first confession, we had several practices, (Simulations) to make sure we all had our opening line, prayer, and kneeling technique down. I was suspicious of this for the nuns played the part of the priest and there was no way in hell I was ever going to tell the nuns my sins. (Hell, they have been keeping a permanent record of all my sins since birth anyway, why give them any more ammo to use against me?)

It was now Saturday morning which I learned was confession day which really sucked for now I had to go to church two days out of the week. I wasn't liking that at all. I asked my older brother George for any tips or advice before I stepped into the confessional box "Live" for the first time. George told me to disguise my voice when I told him my sins so the priest wouldn't recognize it the next in class. He also said never to give the priest your name. If he asked, give him someone else's name.

I asked if that was a sin, lying to the priest while in the confessional wondering if perhaps the space time continuum vortex would somehow converse at my exact coordinates but i was put at ease when George said the priest would rarely ask a kids name. Only if you did something really bad like murder, rob a bank, or pull a nuns habit off.

We arrived at church and all the second graders filed into the back of the church, (Quietly of course) and took our assigned seats in the pews waiting our turn to confess our sins. I noticed we were sitting alphabetically. Damn, the nuns had set us all up. All the priest would have to do to find the identity of a particular bad kid is ask the nuns who was 8th in line and the nuns cold match it up with their seating chart.

The priests on call for the day walked into the back of the church, told us all good morning, said a little prayer, and with bible in hand proceeded to their side of the confessional. The priests opened the confessional doors and a little white light turned on signaling to all us sinners that he was ready. I noticed that the priest was in the middle and could take two sinners at a time, one on each side. The 1960's was certainly showing signs of progress.

A moment later, a nod from the nuns signaled the first sinner, (Second grader) to enter. Like lambs to a slaughter, the girl slowly moved toward the confessional, slowly opened it, walked in and closed the door behind her. A few seconds later, a little red light appeared on the confessional door. That signaled that the sinner had activated the kneeler and was occupied.

The sinner was only in there for a few minutes, and I timed her by repeating the Act of Contrition (A prayer to be said after the priest heard your sins) in my head over and over. Saying it slowly, the average time was 5 AOC's (Acts Of Contritions) per kid. Some kids took longer, and we all knew that meant they had plenty of sins to confess. And so did the anxious parents watching their children.

At last, it was my turn. Remembering my lessons drilled into me for 8 months I was confident as I walked toward the confessional. I opened the door and sat down activating the red light. (It was dark in the confessional as the only light source was from the screen where the priest talked to you from) A minute or two passed by as the priest was finishing up with the other sinner on the left and then I heard the screen slide open and I was up.

Every Catholic knows what comes next, the BMF prayer. (Bless Me Father prayer) It is the prayer the sinner begins every confession with. For you non-Catholics, here is the prayer. Bless me father for I have sinned, this is my first confession. (The next time you went to confession, you would simply change up this line to, Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been one week since my last confession)

At this time, you were required to confess your sins. I remembered to speak in a whisper so as not to announce to those outside my sins. However, I forgot to disguise my voice as my brother George told me to. For my sins, I started with, I lied to my parents. I lied to my brothers and sisters. I was mean to people. I skipped church. I threw some dinner food away. i swore. I used the Lord's name in vain. I looked at smut. (Playboy Magazines) Then I fell silent as I awaited for the priest to deliver my penance.

Being it my first confession, I believe the priest went easy on me. He told me that I should reflect on my sins and avoid them by praying more and helping out more at the church. He then told me to say 3 Our Fathers and 3 Hail Mary's for penance. He finished with Go in peace.

It was time for my very first "Live" Act Of Contrition. The prayer we practiced all year just for this day.

Act Of Contrition (1966 Version)
O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee.
And I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven,
and the pains of hell;
But most of all because they offend Thee, my God,
Who are all good and deserving of all my love.
I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace,
to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life.
Amen.

I had done it. Survived my first confession. The walls of the church did not crack as my parents had told me they would. Nor did the priest gasp with hearing hearing me confess such hideous sins. I walked out of the confessional all smug, with a clean slate, no sins on my soul. If I were to die that exact instant, I would go straight to Heaven. I admit, it was a good feeling. However, a feeling that wouldn't last long. I walked back to my assigned seat, kneeled, and said my penance and then sat down.

The entire process took about two hours. After the last child finished his penance, the nuns gave us the signal to stand, and we filed out single file and joined up with our parents.

In the car ride home, I had questions as my paranoia set in. What if I forgot to confess a sin or not explain my sins correctly to the priest? Would I still go to hell because of a technicality? Or would my permanent record simply add this omission as another sin, the sin of lying, and to a priest to boot? The good feeling I had leaving the confessional had now turned sour as I hoped that Dad wouldn't crash the car on the way home and kill me and with a sin on my soul. Damn, I was damned. And damn, I just sinned by thinking damn. I started seeing a pattern here.

Once in confession, after a pretty good week, I told the priest that
I had been pretty good and didn't have any sins to confess. The priest said, Vanity was my sin for believing I was good. My penance was to say 10 Our Fathers and 1o Hail Marys and of course a sincere Act Of Contrition.

After that, I felt I had to make some sins up, to insure the priest didn't think I was to vain. But of course, that was the sin of lying, in a confessional no less, and had no way of breaking this vicious cycle because we had to go to confession every Saturday whether we needed to or not.

Hence, since we had to go to confession on Saturday, all us smart Catholic kids would do our sinning on Friday so we would only carry the sins for one day. It was the risk we dared to take.

And now that the sacrament of confession was completed, First Holy Communion was next. I was ready!

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

What Lies Beneath A Nuns Robe

Father O'Malleys Prayers Have Been Answered

What really lies beneath a nuns black robe.And you thought I was crazy for pulling the habit off my first grade teacher, sister Ann Teresa.

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

A Question About Noah

In our last episode, the Pastor had made a courtesy call home to my parents to give them an updated progress report on my day's behavior. I would have to be patient before provoking the nuns once again.

A week had passed and the days of waiting had now ended. It was time to attack the nuns once again. I was going to follow Wild Kingdoms Marlin Perkins hunting credo that once you get the animals on the run, never let them slow down to give the animals any time to rest. I set my task to the test.

As the students filed in one by one that particular day, the nun in charge gave me a glancing look as if she knew something was about to happen, much like the antelope before an earthquake knowing that something terrible was about to happen.

The nuns must have begun to suspect that they were in a match to the death with me. It would be a duel of wits. Of course the nuns came to fight unarmed. I was now sure that all their so-called faculty meetings were merely a ruse to disguise their plans to keep order in their classroom and to keep me off balance. I would have to figure out a way to bug the office to learn of their plans in advance. I needed that edge. After all, I was only in second grade.

The nuns were getting smarter but I had my ace in the hole and its name was Noah.

Our religion lesson began with the nuns telling us of a horrific flood that was coming to destroy the entire earth and all the people and animals. This particular day, the nuns treaded cautiously in choosing their words to describe that day's lesson. When the lesson had finished, it was now time for question and answer time.

MY favorite time. I decided to start off slowly this time with the nuns so as not to elicit suspicion quickly. I would ask legitimate questions first and then build to the climatic question that would send me to the principles office. In fact, I would let other students begin the interrogation. The perfect plan was in motion. Timmy and Tommy and Betty asked some brown noser questions to get them some brownie nun points much to the nuns delight. I almost saw one nun crack a smile, but I was wrong. These nuns were well trained.

At this moment I began my assault. I asked what the animals ate on the ark during the 40 days and nights. Another volley.

Then I asked that since lions and tigers only ate meat, what did Noah feed them.

I brought up snakes and how they had to eat their prey alive. I asked if Noah had to sacrifice several species of small mammals to keep the snakes from dying of starvation.

What about the birds? Were they kept in cages or did Noah let them fly free?

The stage had been set. The nuns were becoming agitated. The answers coming a little more quickly with less thought processes. They were getting a little sloppy.

It was time...

I raised my hand one last time, 5 minutes before class was to end. The nuns thought they had escaped. They were wrong. As fate would have it, sister Sharlett announced only one more question would be answered today due to time constraints. My hand was the only hand raised. Poised. Ready. Confident.

I began slowly, asking the nun if she remembered a previous lesson on Adam and Eve. She nodded in a positive way giving me the leverage I needed to continue.

I quickly asked that if only Noah, his wife, his three sons and their wives were the only humans to survive, then how did they re-populate the world? Yes, the hammer had dropped. The death knell had been rung. Sister Sharlett looked on stunned, waiting for the question to fully sink in.

As if she were in a cartoon, it seemed like a light bulb turned on over her head and a scowl covered her face. She had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker and I was reeling her in. She was about to inform the class the real reason why we are all considered brothers and sisters. It was because Noah's sons and daughters paired up with each other and were fruitful and multiplied. Again, the entire story of Noah was based on incest.

As usual, the nuns in the room became furious. Very loud cackling could be heard as they quickly huddled together much like a football huddle. Seconds later, I was being dragged by my heels out of the office, down the hall to the Pastors office. Yes, this time the principles office was bypassed. I must have been very special.

I began to think that the nuns had changed their pattern to confuse me, frighten me, to get the upper hand. Being a veteran of the wrath of the nuns, I was not worried for I knew the ultimate outcome would be a trip to the Pastors office. Bypassing the principles office was merely an added bonus.

As luck would have it, the Pastor was in a meeting and very busy at the time but he did take a moment to attend to this matter. Whispering by nuns, the positive nods by the pastor, and a few hand gestures and the huddle once again broke. They were ready to run their play. I was in blitz mode.

The pastor said that I was disrupting religion class and that Jesus wouldn't like what I was doing. I was also informed that this was going on my permanent record and that this incident would be with me for the rest of my life.

The next moment was way out of character for the nuns. No yelling, no threat of expulsion, no talk of detention. Just the permanent record thing. I could live with that. Hell, I didn't know what my permanent record was anyhow so no big deal.

Then, another twist. Instead of being escorted back to the classroom, I came face to face with my mother in the school hall. She did not look pleased to see me. Without saying a word my mother communicated with the nuns with some sort of secret hand signals and I was in the car and on my way home for the day. Being that it was only second period, I felt pretty lucky thinking I would have the rest of the day to play. Boy was I ever wrong with that impression.

Several days later, I asked my big brother Jack what my permanent record was and why was it so important. He began to explain that... Well, that's another story.

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

My Catholic Permanent Record

The Grassy Knoll Institutes Permanent Record
The nuns had upped the ante and pulled a new term from their habits to combat us Catholic kids, especially me. After my run in with the "Noah's Ark" debacle I was informed that all my bad deeds were somehow being mysteriously recorded in my permanent record. The head nun, sister Charlotte, proceeded to tell me that I was in big trouble and that my permanent record was starting to fill up and that it was such a pity since I was so young.

What was this thing called My Permanent Record? I needed to know and needed to know quickly. This was a new wrinkle thrown at me by the nuns and I had to turn to my trusted sources to find a solution.

So, when I got home from school that day, I waited around until my older brother Jack came home. He would know the low down on the permanent record. I would have to pay the price however, but at this point, he was the lesser of the two evils.

My brother Jack did not disappoint. At first he looked bemused upon hearing my inquiry, sighed a moment or two, ran his hand through his hair, and then exhaled very slowly as if he was about to tell me the secrets of the universe. Jack lowered his voice to almost a whisper and said that the living room was not the place to discuss such topics as ones permanent record.

Of course the garage would be more appropriate. (What was I thinking?) Once in the garage, Jack began a ritual of looking under the cars, in the roof rafters, through the windows, and out the garage doors. Apparently spies were everywhere in 1967 and one couldn't be too careful discussing such topics as a Catholics permanent record.

Satisfied that no one was watching or listening, my brother Jack began spinning his tale as if he were rehearsing a work of literature. Homer, the author of "The Odyssey" had nothing on Jack. Jack began by saying that God created your permanent record and passed it down to the nuns to help keep track of all your sins. You see, God was really busy and only paid attention to the really bad people like bank robbers, murderers, and people that left church services before mass was over.

All the rest of the people, especially the children were to be monitored by the nuns. I looked on in disbelief and waited for some sign that he was kidding but he pressed on. Every time you sinned he continued, the nuns would record the sin in your record book and keep a running total. Then, when you died and went to the pearly gates to face Saint Peter, he would have all the ammunition he needed to send you to hell. Damn those nuns I thought.

Jack continued explaining in more detail. He told me that the people that had to many hits (sins) on their record were not permitted to get into Heaven. Instead, they had to go to a waiting place, a way station so to speak and once there, had to work off their sins until they were pure enough to enter the kingdom of Heaven. He said this place was called Purgatory. Jack said not to confuse Purgatory with the other place called Limbo, where all the little babies that weren't properly baptized had to go and had to wait to get into Heaven until a certain amount of prayers were said for them.

Jack also said that some people who were bad people and knew they were going to Purgatory were able to go to the Parrish priest and set up an account and start paying off the time they would spend in there. He said it was called paying an indulgence. This sounded like paying off a mortgage. Jack said that maybe I should open my account and start paying off my time. Jack then added his famous disclaimer that I was to tell no one of this conversation and if I did, he would deny it all the way to his deathbed. This I believed. Everything else was a little shaky at best.

Sadly, much of what Jack told me was true and only later did the church begin to dismiss such beliefs.

Armed with this knowledge, I began formulating my game plan for revenge. To begin, I wondered how the nuns knew when I was committing a sin when I wasn't in school. Did they have some sort of nun radar or sonar that would pick up my sin signals? And, how were they able to filter out all the sins being committed by all the kids in the Parrish? How did they know it was me and not Tommy from the next street? I had to know.

I had to somehow test the nuns. Then it came to me. My logic was so flawless that it even scared me. Mr. Spock would be very proud if he were able to show emotions. My test would be to sin on Monday morning, maybe say a bad word or two but not loud enough for my mother or father to hear, but say them nonetheless. Then I would be as good as possible on Tuesday. At the end of the day, I would walk up to the nun after class and ask in a meek and frightened tone if she or the other nuns had written anything in my permanent record for today for I was a little worried about what I had done earlier in the morning.

The trap was set. The nun took the bait, and leaned close to me and said that not only did she write several sins down in my record for today, but had also told Jesus in a prayer what I had done today. She was trying to lay it on thick, making me feel guilty for what I allegedly did earlier that morning. She thought that for once she had the upper hand and would relish in her good luck. Being the good Catholic that I was, I took the sermon from her and tried to look as somber and guilty as possible knowing full well that this nun was lying through her teeth.

Several minutes later, after the nuns jaw got sore flapping it at me, she stopped and said that I hope that I learned a lesson from all this. Slowly, painstakingly, I turned towards her, and in a low voice I lowered the hammer on her. I simply asked who kept a tally of the permanent records of all the nuns lies and sins? It was out there. I implied it. She knew it. Knew that I was aware that she had lied to me right then and that of course I had regained the upper hand.

We'll take this up with the Pastor first thing tomorrow morning young man was all the nun could muster to say.

I couldn't wait to get home that day. I wanted to tell my brother Jack what had transpired. I knew he would be proud of me. When Jack walked in the front door, I asked him to come to the garage for a moment. He knew I meant business. Once in the garage, I spilled the beans and told him the whole story. Jack was laughing and said that I did good but he had one problem with my story. He asked how did I know the nun was lying when she said she wrote down several things in my record book that day? After all, he said I did sin by conspiring against the nuns in the morning and then again by going through with my plan. Two sins, two entries in the record book.

Tomorrow would be a bad day at school.

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

4th Grade Class Picture 1970

Class Picture - Pick Me Out

Catholic grade school. Where the grassy knoll conspiracy began. I knew the nuns were lying big time, not just to me, but to the entire class. I could see right through them. It was time to rebel, question everything, stop wearing clip on ties, and start eating meat on Fridays. This wise ass Irish kid had a plan, and it was a good one. I implemented phase one in first grade when I exposed the class nuns head by pulling off her habit. They knew at that moment that I meant business.
That led me to here. The Grassy Knoll Institute. Where everything is questioned. And I do still eat meat on Fridays. Not so much wear the clip on ties though.

As an added bonus, can anyone pick me out in the class picture? BTW, the nun pictured is Sister Eileen, the school principal. The FN bitch.

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Managing Venial And Mortal Sins

How To Manage Venial And Mortal Sins

From the dawn of the 1960's to the 7th year of the third Millennium. My, my, my, how times have changed. Especially the Catholic faith.

I learned a lot about my religion while growing up Catholic in the 1960's. From the Nuns that taught and sometimes fought the students to the priests that looked more like Dracula than your ordinary Padre. One of the most important lessons was the topic of sin. Mortal and Venial sins to be exact and how they affected our souls and the consequences we would have to accept if we were so unlucky to die carrying a mortal sin on our souls.

I present to you the whirlwind tour of the Catholic faith as taught to me in the 1960's by some pretty mean and intimidating nuns.There are two types of sin. Venial sin and Mortal sin. Yea, there is the original sin we are all born with but basically, there are only two.

A Venial sin is an offense against God that will not hinder your chances of getting into Heaven when you die. An example is:

Mother: Patrick, did you break our neighbors basement window?

Patrick: No mother, it wasn't me. It was Jack who broke the window.

A Mortal Sin is more serious and thus certain conditions must apply for a mortal sin to be committed. Three conditions need to be present. They are, The sin must be deliberate, with full knowledge that it is wrong, and it must be a grave matter. An example is:

Prosecutor: And I will show that the defendant willfully, knowingly, with premeditation, murdered the victim.

Patrick: No, it wasn't me. It was Jack who did it.

With this knowledge, you are now ready to understand the Catholic psyche and all our idiosyncrasies.

I was taught that divorce was a mortal sin and if you got a divorce you would go straight to hell. No passing go, no collecting $200.00. Unless you were the winning spouse in divorce court. Apparently, half of the population is destined for hell for the big D reason alone. Some say marriage was hell on Earth so what could the devil really do to you?

I was taught that babies that died before they were baptized went to a place called Limbo. Parishioners than had to go to church and pray for their lost souls and offer up indulgences to help the babies get to heaven.

I was taught that if you had a mortal sin on your soul and you died you went straight to hell. No questions asked. That was a heavy responsibility as a child. Knowing that you had your soul's fate in your hands, I made damn sure that I looked both ways when crossing the street so I wouldn't wind up in hell holding a mortal sin getting creamed by a car.

I was taught that intercourse was strictly for procreation. Any other reason and you went right to the hot spot. And I don't mean the G spot.

I was taught that premarital sex was a mortal sin and if you participated in this heinous mortal sin then you would go straight to hell when you die.

I was taught that people who had venial sins on their soul when they died went to purgatory, a sort of waylay station to heaven. These people would have to stay there until enough people prayed for them or offered indulgences (otherwise known as money in an envelope) to help these poor saps get into the kingdom of heaven.

I was also taught that you could begin paying off your purgatory time while still on Earth. Not by prayer, but by an extra envelope in the Sunday collection plate. The more money, the less time in Purgatory. Sort of like paying off a retirement home mortgage.

I was taught that you couldn't eat for at least an hour before you accepted holy communion. Then they changed it. I guess I missed that amendment of the bible. Sounds awfully like the old standard wait an hour after you eat to go back into the swimming pool.

I was taught that God was everywhere, knew everything, was all powerful, and all loving. But damn, don't question the nuns about it.

I was taught that my confirmation was me standing up as an adult and accepting Christ as my God.

I was taught by the nuns that we all had a guardian angel that looked after us and reported back to God and the nuns when we did bad things. One day, the nuns even told us to introduce ourselves to our guardian angel. We all looked to our right and said hello to our guardian angel. Expecting an answer, the class all continued to stare to the right in hopes of hearing a return greeting. All except Angelo who sat in the back. He was already carrying on a conversation with his guardian angel like he was an old friend. (Yes, the same Angelo that got stung by all the bee's)

I was taught that if I asked questions about bible stories such as Adam and Eve and Noah's Ark, I would get whisked down to the principals office in a heartbeat. When the nuns did not have an answer, you were in big trouble for it made it seem that the nuns didn't know everything there was to know about the Catholic religion.

I was taught that God was three people, God the father, the son, and the holy ghost. The holy ghost got updated to holy spirit around 7th grade. I asked if God was three people before he sent his son Jesus to earth to save our souls. I was whisked off to the principals office.

I was taught that Catholics could only marry other Catholics. If you married outside of the church, it was a mortal sin giving you a red eye ticket to hell, and you were excommunicated from the church meaning you could no longer receive the holy sacraments. (Many of my neighbors and friends were destined for hell for sure on this one.)

I was taught that an angel came to Mary and Joseph and told them that they were going to have the Christ child. They were not married to one another. That line of questioning earmarked another trip to the principals office for me.

I was taught that going to confession and telling the priest your sins and then saying a few Hail Mary's and Our Fathers and our soul would be set free and clear. Now if we died, we would go straight to heaven. This is why most Catholic children did most of their sinning on Friday knowing full well that on Saturday we would be whisked off to confession to get a new clean slate. I figured that I could take the chance of several mortal sins and a full line of venial sins for a day or two. Again, just keep the ever watchful eye out when crossing the street.

I was taught that it was your obligation to go to mass every Sunday. Then it was changed to Saturday afternoon as long as it was after 4PM. I missed that amendment to the bible as well. If you didn't make it to church, you would receive a mortal sin.

For us Catholics, God works in mysterious ways indeed.

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

All Catholics Are Right Handed

A little back story on my trials and tribulations battling Catholic nuns in the 1960's. As you know, I went to a Catholic grade school. In first grade, we learned how to print the alphabet and then to print words with big blue pencils. I remember the nuns getting this strange device that held 6 pieces of chalk in some sort of metal and wood handle and she would make perfect straight lines, six at a time across the entire chalk board. Then, one by one, each student, (inmate) would be asked to go to the blackboard, (Actually, the boards were green) and print their full name and address on the board. My writing was just atrocious.

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't stay within the lines. The nuns would get frustrated with this and scold me and warn that I better improve lest I want to go and see the principal. What was she going to do? Help me with my printing? DOUBT IT!

Anyway, the days turned into weeks and my writing skills did not improve and the inevitable phone call to my parents was now reality. My parents were called about the "problem" and was suggested they take me to a "Specialist" to work on my writing skills.

My parents pulled out my kindergarten papers and and compared them to what I was doing in first grade and noticed that indeed my writing had gotten worse. My dad asked bluntly if I was screwing up on purpose, (He knew I was a troublemaker) and I told him that no, I wasn't. I was really trying hard. I didn’t want the nuns yelling at me because I couldn’t stay inside the perfectly drawn chalk lines. I wanted them yelling at me for something fun I did to piss them off.

At this time, I asked my dad a question about Catholics. I asked dad why Catholics are only right handed. He looked puzzled and inquired why I would ask such a question. I proceeded to explain that on my first day of school the nuns showed everyone how to print the alphabet with our big blue pencils. Then they asked every child to print their name on the black board.

When I picked up the chalk and started printing my name with my left hand, the nuns said to only use my right hand. Sister Charlotte said that all Catholics are right handed and that this training would be invaluable when I went to second grade and learned to write instead of print. For in writing, I would have to tilt my paper and my letters, and I needed to be right handed to do so. What the hell did I know? I was freakin six years old.

My dad was silent. He looked lost. He asked me to repeat what I just said. He then asked if I was lying to him. One thing I learned at a very early age was to never lie to my father. He didn’t like that. I tried a few lies on him before and my punishment was swift and precise. Remind me to tell you about the belt episode at a later blog entry.

Well, my mother was called in to the living room and I repeated the story to her. I was then handed a pencil and paper and asked to print my name and address. With my left hand, I did pretty darn good. With my right, it was awful. I was then told to go get lost and play with my brothers.

My father drove me to school the next day and dropped me off at the front door. He said he had some business with the principal and he would see me when I got home from school. Although I didn’t hear the conversation my father had with Sister Eileen, I could well imagine it. I don’t think it was much of a conversation anyway, more of a, look here, there is how its going to be from now on sister conversation….My father was very persuasive.

Anyway, from that day forward, all Catholics were right handed, except for me, who apparently had special dispensation from the Pope letting me print left handed. All the children gasped as I walked up to the black board and actually printed using my left hand. Some thought I wasn’t really Catholic. I believe this may have been the birth of my loathsome attitude towards the nuns as they would now belittle every little nuance of my printing. I believe they were mad that I was left handed.

Funny thing is though, that yes I was left handed, but also right handed. In third grade, I switched writing back to right handed. I hated getting that lead all over my hands as I dragged my pencil over the paper writing. I was afraid of the lead after my brother Jack told me that I could die from lead poisoning if to much pencil dust got onto my skin. Damn him.

The nuns now had a chip on their shoulders, and I was just the kid to knock it off time and time again. They would never see it coming, they were expecting it from the right and I attacked from the left……

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

The Holy Trinity

Catholic grade school, second period, religion class, 1967

I was seated third row, front seat, the most dreaded seat in the class. It was situated right in front of the nuns desk. Whoever sat there had zero wiggle room for any type of shenanigans.

There I was, starring down the nun teaching the class about the Holy Trinity. Catholic faith believes that God is three people, yet only one. There is God the Father, The Son, and the Holy Ghost. (Holy Ghost got upgraded to Holy Spirit late in the 60's) The Father sent his Son, Jesus, to earth so he could die for our sins and save the people. The Holy Ghost went along for the ride to give Jesus guidance and advice. Thus, the mystery of the Holy Trinity.

Then something struck me as odd. I had a question but pretty much knew that the nuns would acknowledge my hand in the air knowing that my questions were never easy ones. Yet I had to try. Up went my hand even before the nun asked if there were any questions signaling the end of the lesson. I guess it took the nun off guard and immediately whirled around, saw my hand raised, and said, "Yes Patrick, do you have a question?"

I was shocked myself but the opening was there. Feeling saucy I went for the jugular straight away. I asked before God sent his Son Jesus to earth, was God only two people. Just God the Father and the Holy Ghost. And only became three people after Mary, the holy Mother gave birth to Jesus. There, that'll oughta hold the nun for awhile.

Well, I wouldn't be sitting in row three, first chair anymore that day. The nun immediately moved towards me, making a beeline straight at me. Yes, another visit to the principles office. She grabbed me by the back of my shirt and hoisted me right out of the chair. As if by magic in mere seconds, I was in the office.

Several minutes passed as the nuns looked on seeing if I would crack. Hell, they held onto their faith, but I would not crack. The principle yelled, (Yes, actually yelled) for me to step in her office. Same routine here, I was to explain why I was there. I told her the story, and the sister looked on with a puzzled face. Then she spoke in a monotone voice saying that God was always three people and only chose to send his Son, who was already a part of the Holy Trinity. I then asked if Jesus was already a part of the Trinity, then how was he born to the virgin Mother Mary?

Yes guessed it. I won a call home to my parents.

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Adam And Eve

Adam And Eve, The Nuns Version

In the last episode, I thought I had escaped punishment from the sadistic Catholic nuns but alas I was wrong. I vowed revenge against these nuns and I would start extracting it right now.

So there I was, (Circa, 1966) in religion class listening to the lesson taught by the nuns. This particular lesson was about Adam and Eve, the first human beings God created and put into the Garden of Eden and then given dominion over all the animals of the earth, the fish in the sea, and the birds in the sky. The lesson continued and the nun revealed that Adam and Eve had two children, Cain and Abel. This was my chance, the start of my revenge. I would quietly wait until the nun asked if there were any questions. Then I would strike.

Of course the nun finished the lesson and indeed asked that fateful question. Slowly, indignantly, I raised my hand cautiously, not wanting to make the nun suspicious. The stage was set. The nun slowly scanned the classroom defiantly looking for raised hands. Only a single hand was raised. Mine. The nun narrowed her scan and rotated her head towards my upright hand and began to speak. “It looks like Patrick has a question for the class,” she said. OK, I thought to myself, perspiring a little, anticipating the outcome of my question.

Out it came. Loud and clear. Thee ultimate classic religious question of all time. Before i asked the question, I needed a little back story to fortify my stance so I began by saying.... The bible said Cain and Abel had children. If God only created Adam and Eve, and they had only two sons, Cain and Abel, then who were their wives, and who were the mothers of their children?

The gauntlet had been dropped. The nun stared at me in disbelief. The classroom was as quiet as a tomb. All the sound and motion had been quickly sucked away. It was a moment suspended in time. The nun was frozen in her place.

My question had implied that the Catholic religion was based on incest and the real reason why we are all considered brothers and sisters was because Eve had to be the mother to Cain and Abel’s children.

A minute later, which felt more like an hour, the nun descended upon me, grabbing me by my arm, lifting me from my school desk, and briskly and quietly dragged me out of the room and of course down to the principles office. Sacrilege was the only word the nun spoke to me. In an instant, a gaggle of nuns gathered, and murmuring became more prominent. I was told to sit in the chair and wait for the Pastor to speak to me.

Fifteen minutes later, the Pastor made his entrance, ever looking like Count Dracula with his black loose flowing cape with a bright blood red satin inset. A black buttoned up collarless shirt, and slicked back black hair completed the ensemble. If he had said “Good evening”, I probably would have fainted.

Our talk began the usual way with the Pastor lecturing me on upsetting my class room and the nuns with such questions but to put my mind at ease, he would answer my question for me. He explained that Adam and Eve was a parable of sorts to explain Gods creation of man and the completion of Genesis. Besides, the Pastor asked me, “Don’t you remember the story of Noah and his great ark and how God flooded the earth for man had sinned and had to be punished and only spared Noah, his wife, and his three sons and wives?” The Pastor continued and explained that if I reread the story, I would understand that God cleansed the earth of mans sin and what happened between Eve and her sons did not matter anymore.

Feeling satisfied, the Pastor said the only thing left to do was call home to my parents to give them a progress report on my days activities and that I could return to my class and resume my learning.

As I got up from my chair, something had dawned on me about the story of Noah and his ark and the selection of two sets of animals each to preserve them after the waters have receded. If all the people on the earth perished in the great flood then……

Before I finished my thought, I reeled around looking for the Pastor to ask just one more question but a nun, who I recognized as the hall monitor nun came into the room and was told to escort me back to my cell, err, class room. The Noah question would have to wait for now. Enough damage had been instilled on the nuns for one day. I again would lay in the weeds waiting for the right time to strike. And strike I would. But that is yet another story, another legend.

Back To Catholic Nuns Archives

Catholic Nun Habit

Sister Mary left Hook

  Grassy Knoll Institute Verses 1960's Catholic Nuns.

The Alpha-Omega. It was 1965, September, Youngstown, Ohio. Little did I realize that my battle with a pack of wild Catholic nuns would begin the moment I stepped into the classroom in first grade. The battles would be epic against this black robed gang and now after 40 plus years, these tales can finally be revealed.

The era in which I speak of was the 1960's. When Nuns were Nuns. Not like they are today. But mean, nasty, sneaky, and vicious, with goddam excellent aim.

Back in 1965, during first grade, there was one particular nun named Sister Ann Teresa. She was our teacher. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, which was really old to my six year old standards. Sister Teresa, like all the other nuns that I ever saw, came dressed in the exact same uniform of the day. They were all were dressed in black robes. Perhaps skirts or dresses, but they looked like robes. The robes had very deep pockets enabling the nuns to conceal chalk board erasers and other dangerous projectiles. All the nuns had Rosary beads looped around their waist dangling on the right side. All the nuns wore black shoes and stocking or socks.

And of course they all had that same hat that they wore. It was called a habit. The habit looked like a black flat hat that covered the nuns entire head with a thick white collar wrapping around their forehead. A veil topped off the ensemble and covered all the nuns hair. Hell, you couldn't even see the nuns ears.

But let me tell you. They could hear better than dogs. Dare to talk in class and be prepared to absorb the wrath of the nuns. Usually, when a nun would hear talking or other sins against humanity they would take immediate action. The nun would spin around and fire a chalk board eraser in one fluid motion at your head. Nine out of ten times, it would connect. The one time it would miss the target, it would smack an unsuspecting innocent bystander sitting next to you in the head. Those were the only times I ever saw a nun smile. When they were hurling projectiles at your head.

Anyway, as the school year progressed, I started to become obsessed to know the secrets that lie beneath the nun habit. Was there another pair of eyes under there? A listening device of some sort? More erasers? I had to know what was under there. I began to devise a plan to unlock the secrets and remove the habit from the nun.

After weeks of planning, I set my plan in motion never to look back again. On that fateful day, as we were coming in from recess, I got in behind Sister Ann Teresa and followed her until we almost reached our room. Then, I did it. With one swift fast motion, I grabbed the back of her habit at the base and yanked as hard as I could. I awaited the treasures.

Instead, I was shocked to see that instead of removing the habit, I actually had pulled the nun off her feet and flat down on her back. Little did this six year old realize that the habits were attached to the nuns head by an intricate pattern of bobby pins and hair clips. Hurricane winds would not remove the habit.

My immediate impulse was to flee. And so I did. Down the hall with all the other children looking on in awe. I could hear the other children faintly saying, "He's in for a paddling now." Just like in all horror movies, I should have never looked back for there was Sister Ann Teresa behind me, gaining ground with every second. Joining in the chase were several other nuns, some of them remarkably fast. I now had a gaggle of nuns in hot pursuit. Down the one hall I ran and up the steps to the other. I had no idea where I was going except to out run the nuns. In a minute, I was finally cornered by the pack of nuns. I was surrounded. I wanted to blurt out, "You'll never take me alive," but instead, in a very shrill voice, I said, "I'm sorry Sister. I just wanted to see what was under there!"

I received absolutely zero sympathy from the nuns. One nun grabbed my arm and led me to the principles office who also happened to be another nun. A conspiracy indeed. I would not be getting a fair trial on this day. I was escorted to the inner sanctum of the office and told me to sit quietly and stay still.The nun seemed to take great pleasure in calling my parents in front of me telling them about the heinous crimes I committed against Christ and of the many hours of detention in church I would begin serving immediately. I was then released and led slowly back to my class room where I quietly took my seat never making eye contact with the substitute nun in charge of the room at the time.

On the bus ride home that day, all the buzz was about me and how I knocked a nun down and dragged her through the halls and all that. Even the older kids came over to get a good look at me. For about a week, I was a celebrity, one to be reckoned with, one to stay out of his way, until, one day, another kid got stung by a hundred or so bees that he was bothering with a stick at the top of the play ground during recess. I passed the torch to Angelo, the bee keeper. A week later, Sister Ann Teresa did take five minutes at the beginning of the day to show us what was actually under her habit. At her unveiling, I was mildly disappointed. There were no extra eyes, ears, erasers, ammo, or secret tools of the nun clan. Just a bunch of long brown hair.

The conspiracy cover up had begun.....

Back To Catholic Nun Archives

LURKING RELIGIOUSLY ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

---

Danny Boy Lyrics - Official Meaning

Perhaps the most popular American Irish song is Danny Boy. Many people here in the states identify Danny Boy to Ireland and its people. It is sung and played at many Irish funerals and the tune can be heard throughout the day at almost every drinking establishment in the United States on St. Patrick's Day. But did you know Danny Boy is really not an Irish tune? That is correct! It was written by Frederick Weatherly who was an English lawyer, in 1910. Weatherly later married the lyrics to an old melody, Air From County Derry, (Londonderry Air) which became the classic song everyone knows today.

But what is Danny Boy about? What do the lyrics mean? There is plenty of speculation that it is about an Irish father watching his son go off to war knowing that he will (The father) will be gone, (Dead) or of the IRA going to battle, or a sickly mother to her son saying goodbye as her son leaves for the states. But, the real meaning is a love song from a woman to man. Even so, the lyrics are written well enough to have several meanings throughout the ages and the Irish have taken this song as one of it's own. It will be sung at my own funeral one day. Hopefully a long long time from now.

What about the revisions of the song the past 100 years. Well, the verses below are what my grandmother Veronica sang to us.

Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so
And when ye come, and all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave' there for me
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me
And all my grave shall warmer, sweeter be
For you shall bend and tell me that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Legend Of The Leprechaun

Legend Of The Evil Leprechaun

When the word Leprechaun is mentioned, a vision of a happy go Lucky cartoonish figure comes to mind. A cheery old fellow clicking his buckled boots together and smiling. In reality, a Leprechaun is a fiendish and dangerous creature.Legend has it tha a Leprechaun lives alone avoiding all interaction with humans and other Leprechauns as well. A Leprechaun is a shoe cobbler by trade, and can be often seen, if only for a moment, with a shoe and hammer in it's hand.

Leprechauns are ugly creatures, usually under three feet tall, but bulky, but can move as fast and as nimble as the wind. If you do spy a Leprechaun, do not take your eyes off him for if you do, he will disappear and you will never see him again.

A Leprechauns attire is usually a green jacket, stockings, and shiny black shoes with gold buckles. He completes his attire with a work apron, a tall usually colored green hat with stripes, and is sometimes smoking a pipe.

What about the pot of gold Leprechauns keep hidden at the end of rainbows? Leprechauns guard all the world's gold in a place only known to them. No mere mortal could ever find the pot of gold unless a rainbow is in the sky. The pot of gold will always be at the end of the rainbow. Simply follow it and you will find the Leprechaun and his treasure.

He must them demand that the Leprechaun offer him the gold. If he / she wavers in the demand, the Leprechaun can pick up his gold and move it out of the rainbows rays and disappear into the forest.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Giant Aliens Attack On St. Patricks Day

Attack On St. patricks Day

On a mild March morning in Dublin, Ireland, giant aliens attacked without warning. Kicking off the festivities and the three day St. Patrick's Day parade, a balloon of gigantic proportions of St. Patrick himself, came into view signaling the start of the parade. In a bold and daring move, giant aliens hidden inside the balloon, sliced it open and descended upon the unsuspecting crowd of partygoers.On a positive note, the balloon did win "Best Irish Theme."

Happy St. Patrick's Day from the Grassy Knoll Institute.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

St. Patricks Day Quiz And Facts

If you think that all Irish people are drunks, wear green, build ships that sink, love to fight, put on a great parade, and make a hell of a beer, then the following list and quiz is for you.St. Patrick's Day is celebrated to commemorate the death of St. Patrick on March 17th, 461 AD.

Where does the Blarney Stone come from?
Answer: From Blarney castle.

Gaelic is the official language of Ireland. Although not many people speak it nowadays.

In Ireland, wearing the color green stands for hope.

What colors are the Irish flag?
Answer: Green, white, and orange.

What is a shillelagh?
Answer: A short club, almost cane.

According to legend, if you catch a Leprechaun, you should never take your eyes off him lest he disappear.

St. Patrick's birth name was Maewyn Succat.

Other than guard his pot of gold, what else does a Leprechaun do?
Answer: He is a cobbler and makes shoes.

Erin Go Braugh means "Ireland Forever."

What happens if you don't wear green on St. Patrick's day?
Answer: You 'll get pinched.

The official emblem of Ireland is not the Shamrock, nor the Leprechaun, nor the Irish cross, but the Irish harp.

Ireland's National airline is called "Aer Lingus" and it's emblem is the shamrock.

Kissing the Blarney stone gives the kisser the gift of gab and cures them from shyness. And to do this feat, you must lie on your back and tilt your head backwards and slowly lower yourself down to the stone, usually with the aid of several close friends. Also noted, the local lads love to relieve themselves at night on the Blarney stone and then watch the tourists kiss the stone.

The shamrock was used by st. Patrick to show the pagans he was trying to convert to Christianity that three can be as one, as in the holy trinity, or the three leafs of the shamrock make up the whole.

St. Patrick's Cathedral is located in Dublin, Ireland.

A Leprechaun is noted as a fairy, not a troll, or an imp, or a spirit, but an unsociable fairy.

A Sidhe refers to the earthen mounds that were thought to be home to a supernatural race, or elves.

A Banshee is a mean and nasty female spirit seen as an omen of death and a messenger from hell. Also see Hillary Clinton.

The capital of Ireland is Dublin.

Ireland's population is just over 4 million citizens.

Roman Catholic makes up more than 88% of the population.

Ireland's government type is a Republic.

Life expectancy for Ireland natives is 77.5 years.

Ireland has 1.26 million Internet users.

Ireland uses the Euro as it's currency.

The rock band U2 is from Ireland. So is Van Morrison.

Alas, so are the Irish Rovers, but we're trying to keep that a secret.

What is the name of illegally distilled whiskey in Ireland?
Answer: Poteen.

Irish shipbuilders built the ill fated Titanic.

The local obituaries broadcast is one of the most popular radio shows in Ireland.

Ireland used to be infested with witches. Gladly, the last one was Alice Kytler, from Kilkenny in 1820. She had four husbands, and yes, all four died from suspected poisoning. Kytler's residence still stands, and in fact is an Inn with a restaurant. Be sure to leave a big tip if you know what's good for you.

Ireland once had a huge prostitution problem. Montgomery Street in Dublin was the largest red light district in all of Europe, with almost 2000 ladies of the evening practicing their craft. I don't think any Catholic priests were customers.

Pyramids in Egypt, big deal! The Newgrange passage tomb in County Meath was constructed around 3200 BC, making it more than 600 years older than the Giza Pyramids in Egypt, and 1,000 years older than Stonehenge.

The Vikings founded Dublin in 988 AD. They have yet to win the Superbowl.

In 1800, the population of Ireland was almost twice as large as that of the United States. By the year 2000, America’s population was 60 times that of Ireland. Ask us about the rhythm method.

Ireland was once densely forested, but was practically stripped of all it's tree's in the 17th century. Last known island to do this was Easter Island, the makers of the Maoi statues that adorn the coastline.

The island of Ireland land mass covers 26,598 square miles.

Halloween was brought over to America by the emigrating Irish. Halloween was a druid (Ancient Celts) celebration to ward of evil spirits by dressing up as spirits and using hollowed out ghords lit afire to scare the demons away from the village.

Did you know that Ireland is one of the best spots for surfing? Yes, that's right! Ireland. The West coast of Donegal Bay is completely exposed to the Atlantic ocean, thus allowing the waves to pound the beach. The shape of the bay, (Funnel shaped) the winds intensify the waves increasing the speed and power of the waves creating some of the best surfing conditions in the world.

Beyond The Green Door, a porno movie starring actress Marilyn Chambers, was not made in Ireland. It just had a green door.

John F. Kennedy was the first United States president elected with an Irish Catholic heritage. Kennedy was assassinated in November of 1963. Wonder why no more Irish Catholics candidates became president!

The Quiet Man, filmed in Ireland in 1952 starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, is one of the most popular movies made.

Hal Roach is Ireland's most famed comedians. Roach has been headlining at Jury's Hotel in Dublin for over a quarter of a century. Write that down!

"You know it's summer in Ireland when the rain gets warmer."
Hal Roach, comedian.

Waterford Crystal is the home of the world's finest crystal.

Guinness Brewing company has a 9000 year old lease on the factory and land that brews Guinness beer for 45 pounds per year. Tell me Guinness beer is not important to the Irish people.

The largest dog in the world is the Irish Wolfhound.

Eire is the Gaelic name for Ireland.

Legend has it that St. Patrick drove out all the snakes from Ireland. But, Ireland was covered in ice completely during the most recent ice age and everyone knows snakes hate the cold.

Before Patrick became a missionary, he was abducted by pirates and held captive for several years.

The Irish bag pipes have been around for over 2000 years in Ireland. They were known as warpipes, as armies used them to march their soldiers to war. They are often used at Irish funerals with Amazing Grace as the most popular song choice.

What is a bean-jacks in Ireland?
Answer: The ladies restroom.

Bingo wings are flabby underarms on a woman.

What does it mean if an Irish girl wants to give an attractive man a few bob?
Answer: Yes, she wants to have sex with him. Write it down.

Cake Hole! Yes, it's your big mouth. As in shut your cake-hole!

Cock mangers are the public urinals.

Be careful if a man asks to play your flute. A flute is slang for penis.

And yea, I'm not even going to mention River Dancing by Michael Flatley, so I'll merely dance a jig around that subject.

Last but not least, raise a glass to all and yell out,"Slainte!" Slainte is a drinking toast to wish good health.

Happy St. Patrick's Day from the Grassy Knoll Institute.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Miss Ireland 2007

Miss Ireland 2007

Happy St. Patrick's Day

With St. Patrick's day just a few days away, we leprechauns at the Grassy Knoll Institute thought you would like to see the winner of the Miss Ireland 2007 beauty pageant. She has some fabulous tan lines doesn't she?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Kissing The Blarney Stone

Legend Of Kissing The Blarney Stone

When visiting Ireland, the emerald isle, one of the favorite tourist destinations is Blarney Castle, where thousands of tourists line up each and every day to kiss the Blarney Stone to receive the fabled "Gift Of Gab." But to kiss the stone, is a wee bit complicated. You see, the Blarney stone is embedded in Blarney castle, perched 83 feet above the ground.

Each person wishin to kiss the stone must lie on their backs, and slowly get lowered down by two friends, (They should be two really good friends) and then, while you are turned upside down, you are ready to pucker up. If your friends lose their grip on you, you will plunge to certain death.

Psst....Hey, over here. Just a little tip for all you tourists puckering up. I have it on very good authority that the local young menfolk like to pull practical jokes on tourists. One of their favorites is to sneak into the castle area at night and relieve themselves all over the Blarney Stone. Bring your mouthwash.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Rare Rainbows End Photo

End Of The Rainbow Treasure

The Grassy Knoll Institute has photographic proof that rainbows really do have a beginning and an end. The photo at the top clearly shows a double rainbow with one of them touching down right smack dab in the center of the street in the town of Dublin, Ireland.At first, the townsfolk stood and stared at the amazing rainbow and how beautiful and awe inspiring nature can be in all it's splendor. But sadly, seconds later a riot broke out as it finally dawned on the townsfolk that there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Hundreds of people rushed to the center of the street in search of the gold but alas none was to be had.

News cameras were rolling taping the scene for the evening news when the Grassy Knoll Institute crew noticed a wee little man walking very slowly away from the scene carrying something under his coat. The little man was heard mumbling something under his breath about no one gettin their hands on me gold. In an instant, the wee little man vanished.

Only in Ireland.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Halloween - Another Irish Holiday Tradition

St. Patrick's Day is a very popular Irish holiday celebrated with parades, dances, singing, bagpipes, and plenty of social gatherings at the favorite watering holes across the nation to hoist a few pints of Guinness beer. But did you know that St. Patrick's Day is not the most popular Irish holiday in the states? Halloween is!

The word Halloween, derived from All Hollows Eve and All Saints Day, is a Catholic holy day honoring the saints on November 1st. But in Ireland, it was called Samhain, and the Celtic Druids celebrated October 31st, which was the last day of Summer to them, with a huge festival and feast. The feast was intended to ward off evil spirits from coming down from the hills during their harvest and stealing and poisoning the crop.

Legend has it that evil spirits would wait until nightfall during harvest until the villagers retired to their huts for the evening and then steal and destroy the crop leaving the village at the mercy of the spirits to survive through the Winter.

The villagers thought they would fight fire with fire and scare the spirits so much they would not enter their village. So, on October 31st, the villagers would extinguish the fires lit in their homes, hollow out large ghords, and dress themselves as evil spirits. The villagers would then carve evil faces and sayings in the ghords, light them on fire and place them at the base of their village. Another ghord would be left on each villagers entrance to block the spirits from entering the homes. The villagers would then go door to door chanting prayers to ward off the evil spirits making as much noise as they could.

This practice went on for centuries and only when the Irish emigrated to the United States in the 1840's during the great potato famine, did Halloween catch on and become an American tradition. Today, kids dress up as evil spirits, go house to house yelling trick or treat, as Jack O Lanterns adorn many homes door steps.

And you thought you only celebrated one Irish holiday.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL

Ancient Irish Harvest Chant

The Grassy Knoll Institute would like to share with you an ancient Irish harvest chant. Each year during the last week of September through the entire month of October, the native Irish would wake at dawn, go out to their fields, and repeat this magic chant over and over and each time speaking it louder and faster.

This powerful chant was and still used primarily for three very important reasons:
#1 To ensure that the harvest would be successful and bountiful so as to keep their family fed all year. A poor harvest and the family could be doomed.
#2 To ward off evil spirits. Halloween, as we now know it, was derived from ancient Celtic Druids who used this chant at harvest time. It kept the evil spirits from descending upon the village during harvest time to destroy the crop.
#3 To gain great wisdom. It is said that if the chant is repeated enough through the years, you will become wealthy and wise. It does take some practice, so don't worry if you cannot say it correctly at first. You will get it eventually.

Here are the instructions:
To begin, speak very clearly and slowly and use the pause until you become familiar with the words. Enunciate each word.

Then, repeat the chant without the pause and keep repeating it out loud faster and faster until you become very wise. The chant works well very quickly.
Caution: You must speak the chant out loud.

You cannot whisper it or say it silently.
It must be spoken aloud for the chant to work.

Ooooooh waaaaaah (pause)
Taaaaaaa foooooo (pause)
Lie aaaammmmmm (pause)

Good luck and Happy St. Patrick's Day To Ye.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Back To St. Patricks Day Archives

LURKING, ERIN GOES BRALESS ON THE GRASSY KNOLL