It may have slipped you by, but yesterday was the Feast of the Sacred Heart. How careless of you. On this very special feast day you are expected to rip out your heart, cover it in a crown of thorns, pierce it with a lance and somehow get it to shine.
You then attach it to the outside of your shirt and mop up any extra blood.
If you don’t think you can manage that, then I suggest you do it on someone else.
The image above (Credit to my Love Llama, taken in Melbourne) has a big poster with the following written on it:
Devotion to the Sacred Heart is a wonderful historical expression of the Church’s piety for Christ, her Spouse and Lord, it calls for a fundamental attitude of conversion and reparation, of love and gratitude, apostolic commitment and dedication to Christ and His saving work. For these reasons, the devotion is recommended and its renewal encouraged by the Holy See and by the Bishops. Such renewal touches on the devotion’s linguistic and iconographic expressions; on consciousness of its biblical origins and its connection with the great mysteries of the faith; on affirming the primacy of the love of God and neighbour as the essential content of the devotion itself.
Did you read that? You didn’t did you! It took me three times to get through it. What a lot of waffle. How can any sane person make sense of this twaddle. What sort of dim-witted non-thinking sheep bleats this crap. Ah, yes, that’d be the catholics.
And for fuck sake, why is it so graphic? Who in their right mind thought it was ok to depict the dirty little jew boy with his heart on the wrong side of his chest?
That’d be another mystery of faith that eludes me.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go off and pray the rosary with my glow in the dark beads.