(July 24, 2014 at 6:55 pm)StealthySkeptic Wrote: I was walking home today along Massachusetts Avenue NW in Washington D.C., when I noticed an elderly gentleman standing in front of the Vatican embassy with these signs:
So I approached him and took these pictures. He told me his name is John Wojnowski, a Polish Catholic who in 1958 was molested at the age of 15 by a Catholic priest. Sadly, we all know that this is an all too common occurrence but it was so traumatic that John repressed this memory until a Texas boy was abused in 1997.
John is now 70 years old and has walked an hour each way every single day from 4 PM until dark for the past fifteen years to stand in front of the Vatican embassy, only to be insulted, spat at, and cursed to hell by ignorant sheeple who are so cowed by the Catholic oligarchy that they will happily sit on the sidelines and support its proclamation to be the salvation of the world while at the same time doing these monstrous things and getting away with it. As long as the world buys Pope Francis's PR and misdirection, however, nobody's going to give a shit- until the next scandal. Whenever Frankie boy dies, he will be replaced by another puppet who presides over a golden palace while thousands of victims are treated as opportunities to save face in pointless meetings and children dig through Rome's dumpsters for food.
John is only one elderly protestor, but in one afternoon, he shook me out of my malaise when it comes to the situation and now I'm hopping mad. After his story, I'm convinced the Vatican is nothing but a stain, and I will continue to keep John in my thoughts until the Vatican does something to change or its grip on a billion Catholics ends. Hope this story inspires you as it did me.
![[Image: SOyFdph.jpg]](https://images.weserv.nl/?url=i.imgur.com%2FSOyFdph.jpg)
![[Image: QDqqWYd.jpg]](https://images.weserv.nl/?url=i.imgur.com%2FQDqqWYd.jpg)
Fuck this guy is one tenacious son of bitch. I like him, can we get more people like him?
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
