Patum Peperium

A Conversation

Hellfire Club

FLG

Previously...

A knock at the door.  FLG opens it.  Agents Fitz and Malloy are standing in the rain.

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Fitz:  "Can we come in?"

FLG:  "Sure.  I thought I'd heard the last of you.  Last time was 'round about the time Miss FLG was born when Basil came to visit." 

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Fitz:  "It's been busy, what with the change administration and all. Don't worry.  This new guy is gonna really crack down on the Catholic Blog Mafia."

 

FLG:  "Waddaya mean?"

Fitz:  "Did you see what he did at your Alma Mater?  He had the christogram  blocked out.  These bloggers don't stand a chance.  The administration is setting up new websites everyday."

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FLG:  "I'm sure you're not here to talk about the speech at Georgetown."

Fitz:  "No, we're not.  There's some concern, more than a little concern, about recent movements among the Mafia.  The Peperiums have moved to a more defensible position and upped their armament to cannons...

We suspect they're preparing to go to the mattresses.  With the Peperiums and this Basil Seal character within a half mile of each other we can expect trouble."

Malloy:  "And how."

FLG:  "I see.  Last I heard, Basil was in the midst of writing The Confessions of Sir Basil Seal, and like Augustine was concerned about all the sins from his childhood that he had committed but could not recall...

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...That's gonna take a while, then I assume he'll move onto trying to remember sins that he committed while completely shitfaced. That should take four to five years. He'll get around to writing about the sins he actually remembers committing in 2015 or so. Finally, he'll write about the meaning of Genesis as an allegory. He's going to busy for a while."

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Fitz:  "You just made that up?"

FLG:  "You can't prove that."

Fitz:  "No, I guess I can't."

Malloy:  "I can beat it out of you."

FLG:  Try it, Rhesus Monkey.

Fitz:  "Enough.  If could tell us anything you've heard that could be valuable, we'd appreciate it."

FLG:  "Now that you mention it.  Robbo tried to use the Jedi Mind trick to defend a mutiny .  And Maximum Leader has been stocking up on Russian ammo ."

Malloy:  "Shit."

Fitz:  The Ruskie ammo is worrying.  We don't need the bad press from another damn siege gone wrong.  But if the Catholics have figured out how to use the Force, then we're all screwed.  I need to get back to headquarters.

FLG:  "Robbo probably does find your lack of faith disturbing. You know, the Catholics have the Holy Spirit.  Think that's something like the Force?  Never understood it myself.  Always kind of thought it was about having a nice round number. They make movie trilogies, not just a sequel.  Probably seemed odd to have only the Father and Son.  Needed to add a third."

Fitz:  "Stop blathering.  We're in big trouble."

FLG:  "I wouldn't worry too much.  The cannon probably doesn't even work."

Fitz:  "Then why have a sign telling people to keep off it?"

FLG: "Liability."

.

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Prepare To Be Boarded, Sweet Cheeks!

Hellfire Club

FLG

Ahoy, me hearties!

As many of you are undoubtedly aware September 19th is International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day.  FLG begins preparing in mid-June with strenuous yoga sessions.  It takes time to build up the flexibility and improved circulation required to tape his ankle to his thigh and attach a peg leg for the entire day.   It also takes time to secure a proper parrot rental.

FLG understands that many of you lack the dedication necessary for a full commitment to the spirit of International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day.  In fact, many of you are probably objecting that it’s International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day and not International Look-And-Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day.  That’s poppycock. FLG would be neglectful, given the demographics of the readership here at PP, if he failed to mention the obvious discomfort many Catholics feel toward International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day.  The golden age of piracy featured rag-tag groups of Protestants ravaging the luxurious body of the Catholic Spanish Empire.  FLG possesses a far too ecumenical disposition to argue that this is viewed by many as the manifestation of the supreme righteousness of the Protestant cause manifested, so he’ll leave such a controversial statement to others.

Anyway, FLG long experience with International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day has given him some insight that he’d like to share with you.  You’ll need to prepare yourself for the grueling day ahead. Arrgghs tend to leave the throat dry and scratchy. An early morning gargle with salt water helps to stimulate blood flow and mucus creation in the throat, both of which will provide some protection.  The type of salt is important.  FLG recommends Kosher Salt.  However, a good Mediterranean Sea salt should also do the trick.  

Speaking of which…Did you know that the world salary comes from the Latin word for salt?  Roman soldiers were paid partly in salt.  And speaking of Romans, did you know that Julius Caesar was once captured by pirates? When they capture him he demanded to be released or he threatened to crucify them.  The pirates laughed. For a short time young Julius played dice with the pirates.  He had a grand time.  Eventually the pirates released him.  True to his word, Julius promptly gathered some ships, sailed after the pirates, and crucified them. 

So, if you’re Catholic and want to participate in International Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day, but are uncomfortable implicitly supporting the idea that Protestantism is superior you might want to speak Latin.  FLG has no idea how to say “Shiver me timbers!” in Latin though.  Or you could speak Ancient Greek, like Andron the Archpirate or even Phoenician because they were all freakin’ pirates anyway. FLG’d stay away from imitating a Barbary Pirate. Too much like modern terrorists for FLG’s comfort.

So, there’ya have it.  Catholics shouldn’t talk like Jack Sparrow because it implies the inherent superiority of Protestantism.  Gargle with Jewish or Roman salt.  Start preparing earlier next year.  

Bring me one noggin’ of rum, now, won’t you, matey.

,

Another Conversation

Hellfire Club

FLG

Previously...

There is a knock on FLG's door.

Mrs. FLG: Who do you think is out in this weather?

FLG: Probably those idiot Feds again.

FLG opens the door.

FLG: Speak of the devil. Good morning Agents Fitz and Mallory. What brings you out in the snowstorm?

Fitz: They've disappeared him.

FLG: Did what to whom?

Mallory: Try to keep up. They disappeared NBS.

FLG: They didn't disappear him.

Fitz: When was the last time you heard from him?

 

FLG: Christmas eve.

Mallory: That makes perfect sense. They got to him on Christmas. What was the last thing you heard from him?

FLG: Email's right here. He wrote, "Non Papist prayers headed your way for the health of Miss FLG and Mrs. FLG." Very nice of him. I was extremely concerned at the time.

Fitz and Mallory nod.

Fitz: That's it then.

FLG: Why can I never understand what you are talking about?

Fitz: We haven't been able to find NBS since Christmas Day. We think Sir Basil took him out on the way to visit you at the hospital. 

Mallory: We're not sure of the exact timeline, but he dropped off our radar after that. We weren't concerned about you, of course.

FLG: You think Basil whacked NBS, and you aren't concerned that he shows up at the maternity ward where my wife and baby are? 

Fitz: It's a heretic thing. Killing an Episcopalian, that's one thing. Taking down a heretic? That's another ballgame altogether. They're way out of practice.

FLG: Maybe, but Baz is old school with military training. He thinks the Spanish Inquisition was too timid. I think he called it a pillow fight. His nickname for Tomás de Torquemada is "the guy with the velvet gloves." 

Fitz: Yes, and you are a pirate and bull fighter with a huge heretical streak. They won't take you out without thinking long and hard about it. Plus, you were trained by the Jesuits. Who knows what you know. You might know enough to take down everything. Sure, they say the Jebbies are a different religion, but they know enough. Too much really. 

FLG: Are you concerned for my safety or not? Before you'd come by telling me to be careful. Now, you are entirely too blasé for my tastes. 

Mallory: Shouldn't have called me a monkey.

FLG: Correction. Chimp.

Fitz: Enough. We still want you to wear that wire.

Miss FLG begins crying.

FLG: I've got to get her. I'm sure you can find your own way out. Especially you, monkey boy.

Mallory: Hey, you said chimp!

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Another Conversation

Hellfire Club

FLG

There's a knock on Mrs. FLG's hospital room door.

FLG: Hello?

Voice through the door: Mr. and Mrs. in Georgetown? It's Agents Fitz and Mallory. May we come in?

FLG opens the door. 

FLG: What the fuck do you two want? We just had a baby.

Fitz: Right. About that. The boys down at the office chipped in and we got you something. It's not much, but...

Mallory pulls a pacifier out of his pocket.

FLG: Thanks. You shouldn't have. 

Mallory: You won't say that after.

FLG: After what?

Fitz: We want you to wear a wire.

FLG: What the hell for?

Mallory: For evidence of course.

FLG: What evidence?

Fitz: The SAC was very impressed by your initiative.

FLG: SAC? Initiative?

Fitz: Special-Agent-in-Charge and infiltrating the Catholic Blog Mafia.

Fitz: You've made it in deeper than any of our agents.

Mallory: Survived longer is what he means to say.

Fitz: We thought about using that Cusack kid a while back, but the psyche profilers said he's wound up too tight. Said he was..."very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. He might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time."

Mallory: That and his insane focus on the Austro-Hungarian Empire is disturbing. It's the Washington Generals of European History. I could see admiring Janos Hunyadi. He beat back the Ottomans under Mehmed II at Belgrade. That's when the Ottomans were a force to be reckoned with. But admiring the centuries inbred Hapsburgs of the Austro-Hungarian Empire? Nuts!

FLG: Let's get back to the wire. 

Fitz: Right. We want you to wear a wire and get everything they say on tape.

FLG: What are you? The Keystone Cops? I don't talk to them in person. I email them.

Fitz: We'll get you a wire for your email.

FLG: I still don't understand. They are really nice. What's your beef with them?

Mallory: Nice? Scotland Yard just uncovered a plot to infiltrate America using WAGs. They claim to have incontrovertible proof that Vivian masterminded the Posh and Becks move to LA.

FLG: Oh, that is terrible.

Mallory: Uncle Sam is paying him back in spades. Send us an annoying footballer, will he? We've got an inexhaustible supply of entirely talentless celebrities to send right back his way. 

Fitz:  We'll win through attrition.

FLG: I was wrong. You guys aren't the Keystone Cops. You're Lancelot Link.

Mallory: Lancelot Link?

Fitz: Talking monkey.

Mallory: Did you just call me a monkey?

FLG: Nope. Talking chimp.

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Tenuously Spotting The Obvious

Hellfire Club

FLG

FLG and his coworker walk into the Five Guys Burgers and Fries in Georgetown. They walk to the counter to order.  FLG notices something odd.

FLG: That's George Stephanopoulos.

Coworker:  No, it's not. He's a bum that looks...well...remarkably like George Stephanopoulos.

FLG:  It's him.  

Coworker:  I'm not sold.

FLG:  Trust me.  While you were ordering I caught his eye.  He recognized that I recognized that he recognized that I knew who he was.

Coworker:  Maybe it's him.  Should we say something?

FLG:  Not me.

Coworker:  Why not?

FLG:  He's eating a burger and reading the Financial Times. If I were him I wouldn't want to be bothered.

Coworker:  He really looks like a bum.  Hair unkempt.  Face unshaved. Ski jacket dirty.  Converses ripped.

FLG:  Wait.  His Converses are ripped?  You're kidding me.

Coworker:  Nope.

FLG:  Wow.  You're right.  Weird that he wears Cons.  And they're so cheap. One would think with ABC money he could at least buy a new pair.

Suddenly Stephanopoulos' cellphone rings.

George Stephanopoulos:  Hello.

Coworker:  That voice.  It's definitely him.

FLG: Told you.

Coworker:  He's probably talking to Obama right now.

FLG:  I don't think it works that way.

Coworker:  Why not?

FLG:  It just doesn't.

Coworker:  He's getting up.  Holy crap he's even shorter than he looks on TV.   No wonder there's a high chair at the table.  Oh, and look, he's leaving his trash on the table.  What a jerk!

FLG:  He left the newspaper. That's not trash.

Coworker:  Newspapers may not be trash, but pink ones are.

FLG:  Salmon.

Coworker:  Come again?

FLG:  The Financial Times is salmon colored.

Coworker:  Sure looks like pink to me.

FLG:  Yeah, but I have better eyes.

Coworker:  Prove it.

FLG:  I spotted Stephanopoulos. 

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Hell-o

Hellfire Club 

FLG

There are two types of people reading this right now.  The first group has read my other blog.  The second has not.   If you are in the first group, then you are probably asking yourself, “Self, why is FLG, with his heretical, sophomoric, profanity laced blog and his strange obsessions with pirates, robots and sex with inanimate objects, writing for my favorite Catholic, intelligent, generally non-potty mouthed internet magazine that has nothing at all to do with pirates, robots, or sex with inanimate objects?”   That’s a great question.

If you are in the second group, then you were probably wondering who I am, but after that last paragraph you are asking yourself the same question as the first group.  That’s okay, too.

Wait.  Where are my manners?  I should have introduced myself.  My full name is Fear and Loathing in Georgetown.   My friends call me FLG.  We’re all friends here, right? I’ve prepared a short memoir.  Inspired by Thomas Hobbes, I wrote a Latin verse autobiography for this occasion, but unfortunately I’ve misplaced it.  You’re stuck with a prose, third person account.

Fear and Loathing in Georgetown was born in Independence, Missouri to a couple in a traveling circus. His father, Roger, was the star trapeze artist. His mother, Marcia, was the assistant to a knife thrower. Her left ear was prosthetic. They met after Marcia left her former knife thrower and joined Roger's circus. Roger didn't own the circus, mind you, he was only the trapeze artist. Fear and Loathing in Georgetown was born in the back of a pickup truck between performances. The traveling prohibited a formal education. So, he was tutored by the bearded lady, who happened to have a degree from La Sorbonne. However, he was also trained in the art of lion taming, and saved up enough money to go to college, where he continued his lion taming on street corners for spending money.

From time to time, I may refer to my childhood in a way that implies that I did not, in fact, grow up under the big-top.  Ignore these delusional ramblings.

To return to the original question of what is FLG doing here, well, I lack the erudition and lucidity of the other contributors to this august Internet magazine.  As such, I’m gonna wing it.  As the United States Marines would say -- Adapt Improvised and Overcome.    Patum Peperium is sort of the Mount Suribachi of the Catholic Internet.  “Exactly,” you say.  “What is a heretic like you doing here?”  Ah ha!  Did you know that Iwo Jima means Sulfur Island?  No, you didn’t.  Well, maybe Basil did.  And isn’t a place called Sulfur Island the perfect place for a heretic?  I know.  The logic is so clear now that you can’t believe you even asked the question in the first place.  It’s okay.  Don’t worry.  I used to have the same feeling when watching reruns of the 1960’s Batman TV show.  How was I supposed to know that a baker makes dishonest shortcake with lie-berries, which meant Batman needed to go to the library?  

Another Conversation

Fear and Loathing in Georgetown

FLG

Previously...

FLG's work phone rings.

FLG: Hello?

Receptionist: Some people are here to see you.

FLG: Really? I wasn't expecting anybody.

FLG finds Special Agents Fitz and Mallory sitting in the lobby.

FLG: Hello again.

Fitz: Hello, Mr. in Georgetown. Sorry to bother you at work, but we are very concerned about your safety.

FLG: Still?

Mallory: You just don't get it, do you?

FLG: What are you worried about now? Think Basil is plotting world domination from a dormant volcano?

 

Fitz: No, an abandoned meat packing plant in Kansas City, but that's not important right now. Their activity will start to pick up in a few weeks. From Thanksgiving until about the end of December they send copious communications and hold numerous meetings. You'll need to keep your head down.

FLG: You mean they send Christmas cards and attend Christmas parties?

Fitz: Yes. 

FLG: They are the Catholic Blog Mafia.

Fitz: What does that have to with anything?

FLG: Uh, you know, Christmas? The celebration of the birth of Our Lord and Savior?

Fitz: Yeah, well, keep a look out. There's a padre involved now. Uses a code name -- Father M. Our intelligence says he's a real snappy dresser, and worst of all a mick.

FLG: You should have more respect for a priest.

Mallory: And the Irish.

Fitz: Maybe you're right, but God invented alcohol so the Irish wouldn't rule the world.

FLG and Mallory simultaneously: My mother's Irish.

Fitz: Sorry.

FLG: Isn't Fitz Irish? Fitzpatrick and all that? Also, how can you have something against the Irish and be a cop?

Fitz: We're Feds, not cops. Let's get back to why we are here.

FLG: Okay.

Mallory: You forgot about the Limey. Name's Vivian. Says he's a man, but I can't get that dame from Gone with the Wind out of my head.

FLG: You're an idiot. Should I be concerned?

Mallory: Did you just call me an idiot?

Fitz: It's tough to tell. Scotland Yard is looking into it. But I wouldn't order any fish and chips.

Mallory: And stay out of Arlington.

FLG: Last time I saw you, you said you were going to look into Maximum Leader. Did you get anywhere?

Fitz: Not very far. A team is trying to determine why he hoards ice cream.

FLG: Hoards ice cream?

Mallory: He leaves the Giant with tons of the stuff. We think it might be used for smuggling.

FLG: Smuggling what?

Fitz: Contraband G-strings.

FLG: What?

Mallory: It's complicated. Leave it to us professionals.

FLG: Whatever.

Fitz: We'll be in touch. Until then, keep a low profile.

Mallory: We are working on a plan to get you to safety if the worst happens. It's genius actually. We send you out to Cali to give you a set of boobs and hide you away as a nun. They'll never expect it.

FLG: That's the first thing they would suspect.

FLG can be found day and night at Fear and Loathing in Georgetown

A Conversation

Fear and Loathing in Georgetown

FLG

A Conversation

There is a knock at the FLGs' door.

Mrs. FLG: It's three am. Who's knocking at this hour?

FLG: How should I know?

FLG walks to the door, looks through the peep hole, and sees two men in cheap suits.

FLG (yelling through the door): What do you want? It's three in the morning.

Fitz: Special Agent Fitz, FBI. Please open up.

FLG leans up against the door to prevent a kick in, unlocks the deadbolt, and opens the door a crack.

FLG: Can I see some ID?

They show two IDs, but FLG has no idea what a real FBI ID looks like. He decides to let them in.

Fitz: I'm Special Agent Fitz. This is Special Agent Mallory. Sorry to bother you at this hour...

FLG: Ungodly hour.

Fitz: Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but we have reason to believe you may have been in contact with some people of interest.

FLG: The guy upstairs is a complete asshole, but whatever you think he has done, he probably hasn't. Mrs. FLG and I thought he murdered his wife, but I saw her yesterday.

Mallory: Not him. The Catholic Blog Mafia.

FLG: You're kidding me, right?

Fitz: Do we look like we are joking?

FLG: No, you appear to have had your humor removed via colonoscopy.

Fitz: What do you know about them?

FLG: Nothing. They seem like nice enough folks though.

Fitz: You have no idea what they are capable of.

FLG: What are they capable of?

Mallory: For starters elk and llama smuggling.

FLG: I thought it was llama butchering?

Mallory: That's step 2. Step 1, smuggle llamas. Step 2, butcher llamas. Step 3, profit. Get it?

FLG: Okay, that's the llamas. Irish Elk appears to be a pleasant fellow. He just posts crazy cool old shit.

Fitz: Codes, Mr. in Georgetown, those are codes.

FLG: Like Blue Horseshoe loves Anacot Steel?

Mallory: Far more treacherous.

Fitz: Are you familiar with steganography?

FLG: Yes.

Fitz (relieved): Thank goodness. Most of the time when I tell people messages can be hidden in pictures and videos they ask how. Explaining it takes so much time, and even then they don't get it. Anyway, you see what we are dealing with here.

FLG: Yes, you two are nuts.

Mallory: We are not nuts, Mr. in Georgetown. You are in way over your head. You probably think Sir Basil Seal is simply a nice man who sits home and reads all day. 

FLG: He isn't?

Mallory: That's your nice man.






FLG falls off his chair.

FLG: Holy shit! I pictured him as Col. Mustard. 

Fitz: Holy shit is right, Mr. in Georgetown. Why else did you think he is so interested in 007?

FLG: What about Mrs. Peperium? She seems so nice as well.

Mallory: Deadly. You should see what she keeps under that nightshirt of hers.

FLG: Mr. P probably wouldn't like that. 

Mallory: Mr. P is dead, you naive fool! Read the website! Poets' Coroner -- Mr. P discusses dead white guys...himself included.

FLG: What do you want me to do?

Fitz: Nothing right now. Keep a low profile. This area is crawling with their agents. Be especially careful when in Arlington. It's a hotbed of activity.

FLG: But I'm in Arlington almost everyday.

Mallory: We'll be in touch, Mr. in Georgetown. If you live that long. We have to follow up on a guy who calls himself The Maximum Leader.

FLG can be found day and night at Fear and Loathing in Georgetown