An Imaginary Traditionalist Weighs in on Pride Month

An Imaginary Traditionalist Weighs in on Pride Month June 5, 2023


candles in a church
image via pixabay

If I had to summarize all the outstanding things I’ve been reading my fellow Catholics say about LGBTQ people and Pride Month on social media the past few weeks, they might go something like this:

I am a traditionalist Catholic husband and father and this is my wife, Monica. We’d like you to know that all LGBTQ people ever think about is sex. They never think about anything else. It’s just sex all over the place. They have no self-control or self-sacrificing love but just use their partners for gratification. They don’t even know what Natural Family Planning is. These are our thirty-two children and their names are Pivs, Athanasius, Clementine, Hypostasis, Lucia, Tertullian, Goretti, Simon-Peter, Augustine, Louis the Ninth, Gianna, Mary-Faith, Mary-Hope, Mary-Charity, Dolorous Passion, Bonaventura, Aquinas, Alouisious, Rita, Hypostasis, Jacinta, Fatima, Three Days of Darkness, Misericordia, Communion-on-the-Tongue, Rose of Lima whom we call Beanie, Catherine of Sienna, Catherine of Alexandria, Ad Orientam, Linus, and the twins, Humanae and Vitae. When the twins were born, Monica’s uterus jumped out of her body and made a break for it screaming to be put out of its misery, but the naturopath gave her a tincture and now she’s good as new. God will give us a sign when it’s time to stop having kids. 

Our children have never been vaccinated. They have never eaten genetically modified grains. They have never tasted soy or corn syrup. They only eat the nutritious organic vegetables Monica harvests from our home garden and the organic raw goat milk we source from our twin goats, Brigid and Cunegunda. Our children do not celebrate their birthdays. We don’t believe in Christmas presents or Easter baskets, only a new copy of True Devotion to Mary and a rosary on the anniversary of their baptisms. They never cry or complain because we never coddle or comfort them but let them cry it out and beat them when they sneeze. The children do not watch television or play video games, but delight in reading the Saint Joseph Baltimore Catechism, the Golden Legend and the Children’s Treasure Box. They do not go to school, for Monica homeschools them using the Douay Bible. We go to the Traditional Latin Low Mass every day and twice on Sundays. On Saturdays after Mass, we take them to picket the drag story hour and the homes of local Democratic politicians. LGBTQ people must not be allowed to have children of their own, because if they do they will indoctrinate them. Children need to be free to be children instead of indoctrinated into their parents’ lifestyle. 

Our daughters are very happy to do chores around the house. They do the laundry. They wash the dishes. They help homeschool their brothers. They cook supper. They help Monica weed the garden and slaughter the goats. They wax the floors and scrub the windows and clean cobwebs off the staircase. In April, they do our taxes. Our sons spend six weeks a year at lumberjack camp. LGBTQ people must not have children, because they would instrumentalize the children instead of loving them. 

I can’t stand these evil sodomites because they constantly shove their lifestyle down our throats. I can’t even go to the store without seeing two lesbians, or possibly just sisters or female friends for all I know, doing their grocery shopping, and it makes me think about what kind of sinful things they must be doing behind closed doors. The other day I saw an asexual person riding his bike to work and I started thinking about what kind of horrible mortally sinful sex they must be having. I found out the married Catholic lady with one kid who goes to our church is actually bisexual and I stayed up all night wondering if she had an affair with anyone. If I see two men buying coffee together I wonder if they’re gay and if they’re happier than I am. I’m telling you, all LGBTQ people ever think about is sex. 

This is all Father James Martin’s fault in a way I can’t explain. I’ve never really read anything Father Martin wrote or heard anything he’s preached, I just figure it’s his fault somehow. I read about him in Spirt Daily. 

Maybe I’m exaggerating just a little, but seriously. Seriously, you guys. Get a life.


Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross, The Sorrows and Joys of Mary, and Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy.

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