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A Catholic Reflects on Charlie Kirk’s Assassination

September 14, 2025 / / 0 Comments

It’s been a rough few days. When I first heard Charlie Kirk had been shot, I sort of dismissed it, not knowing whether it meant “shot at” or “hit.” I’d gotten too used to the crazies not being able to shoot straight and the hand of providence deflecting bullets. But as the posts became more frantic, I sought out a reliable source and found the video. I watched in horror, immediately knowing that was a kill shot, but hoping for a miracle. I grabbed my Rosary and left the electronic distractions; I took a walk through the neighborhood and recited my prayers. By the time I returned home, I knew for certain Charlie had passed, and a quick look at my phone confirmed it.

Why, Lord? We needed him. Of course, we’d needed Andrew, too. How’d that work out?

I’m a child of the assassination age. I’ve lived through JFK, RFK, MLK, Gerald Ford (twice attempted), Moscone and Milk, Anwar Sadat, Ronald Reagan (attempted), John Paul II (attempted), and Indira Ghandi. I’m sure there are others I’m forgetting.

The attack on Donald Trump was horrific for what might have been, but like Reagan and JPII, it was affirming in its apparently providential outcome. Pope John Paul II had credited his survival to Our Lady deflecting the bullet with her finger. Could Donald Trump have gotten a supernatural nudge to tilt his head at that precise moment? There have been rumors that his Catholic wife, Melania, has asked a priest to place her husband under the protection of the Blessed Virgin. Whether Our Lady acted to spare the once-again US President is highly classified, and we won’t know until… you know.

Providence in Our Nation’s Founding

There’s a story about George Washington’s time as 23-year-old aide-de-camp to British General Edward Braddock during the French and Indian War. It’s told that during the Battle of Monongahela, Washington and other mounted officers rode across the battlefield through enemy gunfire to deliver vital messages. Every other officer on horseback was killed, and Washington had two horses shot from underneath him. His coat was later found have four bullet holes in it, and Washington even pulled shrapnel from his hair. But his person had not even a scratch.

Years later, an elderly Indian chief who’d fought against Washington visited our country’s first President. He recalled that he’d personally shot at Washington 17 times and had ordered his men to do the same. The chief explained the reason for his visit. Before he died, he’d wanted to meet the man who was “protected by the Great Presence Above.” Is it possible that heaven had preserved Washington for his future role as Commander-in-Chief, because he was the indispensable man of the American Revolution? Is it possible that God saved Donald Trump from an assassin’s bullet, because he is the essential man in America’s rebirth? The Lord works in mysterious ways, and He often chooses unlikely servants.

But what about Charlie Kirk? He was a deeply religious man, a devoted family man, and someone very necessary to the conservative movement seeking to restore America. Only 31 years old, he deserved 40 or 50 more years to serve his country, love his wife, and guide his children into adulthood. All that was stolen from him. Why couldn’t the bullet miss?

Twisted Trans violence in Charlie Kirk’s Assassination

As I’m writing this, facts are coming to light about the twisted, disordered mind of his assassin. To no one’s surprise, the trans madness is part of this warped scenario. Weirdly, that diabolical movement has enjoyed near universal support on the Left, despite making no logical sense. It is anti-God, anti-nature, narcissistic, exhibitionistic, and ruthlessly demanding. It is so flimsily pseudo-scientific, that only the highly educated are stupid enough to swallow it. And it has been ever so trendy, affording elites ample opportunity to virtue signal by supporting it, especially if they’re the type of parents who use their children as fashion accessories. In short, the trans movement has everything the modern Left seems to love.

Now it has become hyperviolent. Which again is not surprising. As any homicide detective will tell you, the most brutal murders always have a twisted sexual element. Charlie was an opponent of trans ideology, but a compassionate ally for those whom the movement had harmed. Of course, we’re not allowed to say the movement is harmful, are we? So, Charlie became a target. And we’re left to wonder, why did God let the crazies win?

Harvesting Eden: A Teen Soul’s Journey in the Age of Woke

Of Obi-Wan, Stephen, and Joan

Again, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Sometimes, He takes away what we need and, in doing so, makes it more powerful. Already, millennials are talking about Charlie’s Obi-Wan effect, a reference to Luke Skywalker’s mentor being absorbed by The Force, which expanded his power beyond his Jedi limits. I’ve never been a Star Wars fan, so I’ll draw my inspiration from scripture and Church history.

I immediately thought of St. Stephen, the great debater that the Pharisees couldn’t contend with. They resorted to twisting his words to accuse him of blasphemy, much like the Left took Charlie’s statements out of context to accuse him of their usual litany of sins. Stephen’s crowd didn’t buy what the Pharisees were selling, because they’d heard the words straight from Stephen’s mouth. Just so, Charlie’s audience can access his complete statements in his videos. The Pharisees knew they were losing the crowd and were struck with fear. Just so, the Left knew that they were losing the youth vote in the US, as Charlie’s influence grew. So, the Pharisees resorted to violence, stoning Stephen, who became the first Christian martyr. They couldn’t out-argue him, so they killed him. (And Charlie…?)

Stephen’s death, however, is not the end of the story. Because God decided to use the instigator of the plot to kill Stephen for His own purposes. The Pharisees gathered their stones, not knowing they were dropping their mantles at the feet of a future saint, whose conversion would change the Western world. How many of Charlie’s converts are out there right now, ready to make a difference?

Another saint that comes to mind is Joan of Arc. I recently read an account of her life, The Maid of Orleans by Sven Stolpe. Joan arose at a time when the men of France were in decline, and had allowed their territory to be conquered by an outside force. (Need we list the many ways that Western manhood is in decline today, and how young men especially are struggling with despair?) Joan showed the men of her time how to stand up and fight, leading them to reclaim several key cities. (Likewise, Charlie served as an example to young men on college campuses, who hunger for purpose.) But Joan couldn’t overcome the inertia of the leadership and the political infighting to make a decisive push against the English. Joan was captured, tried as a witch, and burned at the stake.

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Joan’s mockery of a trial was a horrible miscarriage of justice, and Joan prayed to be spared her sentence. But God declined. His purpose did not require Joan on the field as a warrior. In fact, Joan’s testimony clearly states that she never took a life in battle. What God needed from Joan was sacrifice. The God who would not spare His only Son would not spare Joan. But Joan’s martyrdom filled the French with such resolve that they were finally able to expel the English and restore France.

Nor did God spare Charlie. But, in the aftermath of Charlie’s murder, in American and across the sea, we’re already witnessing an awakening, especially among young people.

The 19th century Danish theologian, Soren Kierkegaard wrote, “The tyrant dies and his rule is over, the martyr dies and his rule begins.” Charlie’s assassination will prevent him from working campuses across the country in the run up to the midterm elections. This delights Democrats. But we can be confident that Charlie’s influence will still be felt in the tens of thousands of hearts that he touched in life, magnified by the millions who will come to know him only after his death.

The good news for Catholics, as always, is that we know Christ triumphs in the end. In the meantime, we must prayer harder, love more deeply, and find the forgiveness in our hearts that Jesus challenges us to bestow. Yes, there must be justice for Charlie, but then we must move forward. We are in a battle for hearts, minds, and souls. We must use the weapons of persuasion that Charlie wielded so effectively, engaging with the pure intention of uplifting those around us whom the modern world has taught nothing but despair.

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If you build it, she will come.

A Ballsnatcher Breaches Baseball Etiquette

September 7, 2025 / / 0 Comments

This Karen’s viral embarrassment could be a societal tipping point

Much has been said about the abhorrent behavior of a female Phillies fan who demanded and received a homerun ball that a father had recovered and given as a trophy to his son. The incident, occurring at Miami’s loanDepot park (sic) on Friday evening September 5, set the Internet on fire, as fans everywhere castigated the gray-haired harridan, dubbed Karen Ballsnatcher, who literally cowed a man into reneging on a  gift to his son. Fans have been more divided on the father. Some praised him for being the bigger person and de-escalating the confrontation; others criticized him for showing weakness in a feeble attempt to appease the unappeasable. I find myself in the latter camp; the symbolism of a sullen dad coughing up a ball to a shrieking harpy is too potent to ignore. I’m not saying he should have gone full Al Bundy on her. (You never want to go full Bundy.) But a firm “No,” was the proper response to her entitled demands. And not just in this instance, but at all times when horrid women demand that men stop being men, because their mere existence is oppressive.

What’s baseball protocol for balls in the stands?

There have long existed unwritten rules for balls hit into the stands. 1. Any ticketholder can recover them. 2. Touching the ball is insufficient to establish ownership. 3. Incidental contact is expected, but going out of your way to interfere with another person’s efforts, such as grabbing their arm as they reach, is foul play. 4. After a fan establishes firm possession, the scrum ends.

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According to all established rules for recovering balls in the stands, the dad had played fair and deserved the ball. Yet, Karen Ballsnatcher somehow thought the ball belonged to her. She marched down the row and confronted the father. Subsequent reports indicate that her argument consisted of “the ball landed in our section, so it belongs to us,” and “I had it.” The first point is irrelevant, since anyone who can get to the ball has a right to recover it. The father had simply walked down an empty row to the spot where the ball landed. Yet, Karen acted like he had invaded a foreign country to steal natural resources. If the argument had gone longer, I’m sure she’d have accused him of colonization. Her second point is equally fatuous, since touching the ball establishes nothing. How many fans in the 150 year history of Major League Baseball have lamented, “I had it!” Of course, those fans realized they didn’t really have it because they didn’t close the deal. Ask any fisherman about the one that got away.

The only reasonable argument Karen Ballsnatcher could have made is that she had established possession with a firm grip on the ball, and the father had wrested it away. In other words, he stole it. Video of the incident plainly shows the ball loose in the scrum when the father picked it up.

More than a souvenir, a moment to bond father and son

Despite having no basis to claim ownership, Karen Ballsnatcher climbed over a row of seats and beat a path towards the father. At this point, we must note that the father had given the ball to his son, who had closed his glove around it. In the annals of Americana, this is a sacred ritual. It is a moment that every father who has ever taken a child to a ball game longs for. There is no more heroic act a man can perform in the normal course of a game than to snag a souvenir ball and give it to his son. In doing so, he passes on his love of the game in a form of benediction. Few fathers ever have the opportunity to perform this act. Scarcity enhances solemnity.

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Karen Ballsnatcher knew this ritual had occurred, but she didn’t care. And her callous indifference is what makes her intrusion upon the scene truly monstrous. In this moment, the shrieking harpy becomes the embodiment of the Leftist war against fatherhood that’s been waged in Western culture over the last two decades. She’s not going to let this toxic masculinity stand, not while she’s aggrieved. She is woman and they will hear her roar. At this moment, she seems the epitome of the chronically angry feminist malcontent who, having long ago donned the mantle of victimhood, feels entitled to demand special rights whenever equal treatment does not resound in her favor. Having shrieked the father into submission, she retreats triumphantly to her seat brandishing her prize, a Gollum with her precious. It’s a truly ugly and disordered moment, which, to no one’s surprise, unites the fans in the stands against her. When fans being to heckle her, she stands and raises a defiant middle finger to them. This is the point at which I would have had security remove her for disruptive conduct.

The awful court decision that paved the way for Karen Ballsnatcher

All this raises the question: Why would someone with no reasonable claim to possession have the gall to demand someone else’s property? Have we all forgotten the unwritten rules that governed civil society for centuries?

This incident reminds me of the hubbub over a Barry Bonds homerun ball in 2001, which unfortunately sowed the seeds for baseless claims like Karen Ballsnatcher’s. The San Francisco Giants slugger was chasing Mark McGwire’s, single-season, steroid-assisted, homerun record. On October 7, during the final game of the season, Barry Bonds hit his record-breaking 73rd home run into the rightfield bleachers of San Francisco’s Pac Bell Park.

One fan, Alex Popov initially caught the ball in his glove, but was immediately swarmed by other fans. In the melee, the ball came loose. A furious scramble ensued. A second fan, Patrick Hayashi, who was also knocked down in the scrum, ended up with the ball when the chaos subsided.

Popov sued Hayashi in San Francisco Superior Court, arguing he had established possession (and therefore title) when the ball first entered his glove, and that the subsequent mob interference unlawfully deprived him of it.

In December 2002, Judge Kevin McCarthy delivered a verdict that twisted the tenets of property law beyond recognition. McCarthy found that because Popov had control of the ball before the crowd’s unlawful interference, he had a “pre-possessory interest” in the ball. McCarthy stated that Hayashi had “legitimate possession” because he had ended up with the ball without any wrongdoing. Since both fans had valid, competing claims, McCarthy ordered that the ball be sold at auction and the proceeds be divided between the two. In 2003, the ball sold for $450,000, each man receiving half, which probably barely covered their legal fees. Yay, lawyers!

(Have you read the novel behind your favorite baseball movies?)

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McCarthy’s decision was revolting on numerous levels, but the press, which loves to praise revolting things, hailed it as a Solomon-like decision. Yes, so wise. Split the baseball, just as Solomon split the baby. Of course, if the press weren’t just as ignorant of the Bible as they are of property law, they would have known that Solomon’s decree to cut the baby in half was simply a ruse by which he gathered the additional evidence he needed to restore the baby (intact) to its true mother. Just as the baby could only belong to one woman, the baseball could only belonged to one fan.

McCarthy found that although Popov did “not achieve full legal possession,” he had taken “significant but incomplete steps” toward it—steps that were interrupted by others’ unlawful conduct. The court held this created a “legally cognizable pre-possessory interest.” This is all nonsense. Either Popov caught the ball (video confirms he did) or he did not. If he did, he established title and is the legal owner of the ball. The subsequent melee might strip him of possession, but cannot invalidate his title. Anyone who took possession of the ball after wrongdoers stripped it from Popov cannot establish title/ownership. Like the person who finds a wallet full of cash on the sidewalk, Hayashi is obligated to return the ball to its rightful owner, Popov. Hayashi wouldn’t be able to keep the wallet (legally, at least) simply because he hadn’t mugged Popov to get it. Conversely, If Popov did not catch the ball (and thus did not establish title), he has no rights and Hayashi is the true owner.

But McCarthy wrote that “Each man has a claim of equal dignity as to the other,” a fanciful conclusion that only a liberal nitwit unconstrained by logic or law could have reached. He continued, “The court therefore declares that both plaintiff and defendant have an equal and undivided interest in the ball.” McCarthy’s order that the ball must be sold further violates the rights of a true owner, who might have valued an historic souvenir above its cash value.

Judge McCarthy’s ruling is a smoke and mirrors attempt to be fair and not hurt anyone’s feelings. “Pre-possessory interest” is a nonsense phrase McCarthy made up to wheedle his way out of a difficult but necessary enforcement of established law. But ruling for Popov would have caused angst to Hayashi. May the baseball gods forbid! Even in 2001, a San Francisco court couldn’t grant relief to a white man if it would hurt the feelings of a minority. Legal norms be damned; courts must be empathetic. Courts must redress historical inequities. Remember Korematsu! Feelings uber alles, so equity trumps justice. It’s not whether you catch the ball, it’s how you feel about whether you should have caught the ball.

The fallout from two decades of indulging complainers’ feelings

It’s not surprising that more than 20 years later, we’re at a point where people’s feelings about what they’re entitled to are more important than societal norms and written law. We’re also at the point where men and fathers have been so debased, especially by militant harpies, that they cave immediately, accepting abject humiliation in front of their wives and children, rather than responding with the firm, unyielding “No,” the situation calls for.

Karen Ballsnatcher action figure. Thanks, Interwebs!!

If there’s anything positive to take from the incident, it’s the crowd’s unequivocal condemnation of Karen Ballsnatcher. Good luck coming back from this crass display, sweetheart. Not that I’m eager to condemn any person for a single incident. But, let’s face it, she acted the stereotype put forth by her short, battleship gray, Liz Warren haircut and oversized Julie Felss Masino glasses. She deftly conjured the image of the AWFUL destroyer, advocate for transing schoolchildren, defunding the police, and doxxing ICE agents. Ready to march for higher taxes, more censorship, and less oppression, without noting the irony. An ardent crusader who banishes ethnic mascots from the marketplace, then complains about white supremacy. First among her professionally aggrieved, pink-hatted peers to take offence on behalf of any minority who isn’t educated enough to be offended themselves. In other words, the tedious, meddlesome, humorless shrew that we see far too often and wish would go away.

I fervently hope that this incident has brought us to the tipping point, where people are just plain tired of spoiled brat behavior by adults who should know better. It seems like most of the country now agrees that it’s time to accept life’s disappointments without the entitled tantrum. In short, it’s time to make being a grownup great again.

Karen Ballsnatcher as the villain of The Sandlot. Thanks, Interwebs!

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What I Read During “Private Eye July”

August 1, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Author Kevin Rush drops some clues for literary sleuths

I’m far from an aficionado of the mystery genre, so I’m probably late to this party. But when I learned that Private Eye July was an actual thing, I laced up my gumshoes, loaded my snub-nosed .38, and doffed my gray, felt fedora. Hot on the case, I pursued several suspects that might pay off with a guilty pleasure. It’s sometimes tough to cut through the thick fog of saturated bookshelves and eliminate the red herrings . And a month is not long when it comes to consuming whole novels. I didn’t want to throw days away chasing dead ends. But I didn’t want to play it too safe either by treading overly familiar territory.

Now that PI July is over, I figure I got more or less what I wanted from the dust jackets I frisked and the pages I flipped. That being a concise narrative told in an engaging style with vivid characters, intriguing twists, and a satisfying resolution. So without further palaver, here are the novels of my PI July.

Black Money by Ross Macdonald.

This is the 13th of Ross Macdonald’s 18 novels in the popular and critically acclaimed Lew Archer series. Archer is also featured in nine short stories. A native of Southern California, operating from the late 1940s to early 1970s, Archer is something of an heir apparent to Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe, who roamed Los Angeles in the 1940s. Equally world-weary, Archer is nevertheless smarter and more empathetic than Marlowe. We’re told he served in U.S. Army Intelligence during WWII, was briefly a Long Beach, CA cop, was married at some point, and values his independence.

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Black Money, published in 1966, is the third Archer novel I’ve read. A couple of years ago, I picked up a collection entitled Archer At Large (1970). So, by now, I had already read and enjoyed The Galton Case (1959) and The Chill (1964). Macdonald is adept at weaving intricate plots, but what I really like is his economical style which is simultaneously terse and rich. As a narrator, Archer has a knack for relating his observations of behavior in terms of character, so we understand who the players are and what motivates them. The books are peppered with references to philosophy, psychology, and literature, lending the characters and their dilemmas an archetypal resonance.

The Archer novels are more than puzzles; they’re intricate human dramas. William Goldman, writing in the Book Review section of The New York Times, stated that the Archer books are “the finest series of detective novels ever written by an American.” More than a mere genre writer, Macdonald is generally recognized as one of the best American novelists of his generation.

We won’t get deeply into the screen adaptations of Macdonald’s Archer books. Suffice to say that Paul Newman (Harper, 1966) had the blue eyes of the character, but little else. Archer is described as a lean and rangy six foot two, capable of handling himself against menacing baddies. Newman was notoriously short, with a large head that ample goons could easily use as a speed bag. Though he played a middle-weight boxer convincingly in Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956), Newman’s most famous onscreen dustup came in a brief knife fight with no rules.

My choice would have been Robert Mitchum. In the mid-1960s, Hollywood’s first King of Cool could have played mid-series Archer. But, the choice was made to start with the first book The Moving Target (1949), and Newman was a star in his prime.  

A couple of reasons have been given for changing the PI’s name from Archer to Harper in Newman’s films. The most credible one is that Macdonald had named his character for Miles Archer, Sam Spade’s deceased partner in The Maltese Falcon, and somebody had been hypersensitive of the potential for copyright disputes.

Harper was a hit, but it was nearly a decade before Newman filmed Macdonald’s second Archer novel, The Drowning Pool (1950) in 1975. Newman was a little busy making better movies, such as Cool Hand Luke (1967), Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) and The Sting (1974). A third Archer book, The Underground Man (1971), was made into a television movie in 1974. It starred Peter Graves, who is much more the Archer type.

I highly recommend the Archer series, but I’d advise you to start at the beginning.

An Unsuitable Job for a Woman by P.D. James

In this 1972 novel, British writer P.D. James introduces Cordelia Gray, a novice sleuth who inherits her mentor’s detective agency after he abruptly commits suicide. Her first case is an apparent suicide, which provides her with all sorts of mixed feelings, which she must work through to complete her assignment. My previous exposure to Ms. James was limited to her novel, Children of Men (1992), and its film adaptation (2006), which I blogged about here.

I found Unsuitable Job very engaging. It went deep into Ms. Gray’s character, as she fended off doubts based on traumas in her past and faced present dangers. But I never sensed there was too much “processing” of her feelings, and I liked seeing the growth in her character. The way Cordelia Gray steels herself against her own frailty is the perfect antidote for today’s tiresome girl-bossery. Ms. James only wrote one more Cordelia Gray mystery, which strikes me as a shame. The character had a bit more of a life on television; four movie-length episodes of a series were shot over two seasons. A 1982 film version of  Unsuitable Job  was not well received.

Ms. James’ primary detective is Inspector Adam Dalgliesh, for whom she wrote 14 novels. He appears in Unsuitable Job.

Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosely

This 1990 novel gives readers their first look at Mosely’s amateur detective, Ezekiel (Easy) Rawlins. Most folks are probably aware of the song Devil with a Blue Dress On, which contains a vamp with the line, “Devil in a blue dress, blue dress, blue dress.” Written and recorded for Motown in 1964 by Shorty Long, the song failed to chart. Two years later, Mitch Ryder and The Detroit Wheels paired it in a medley with Good Golly, Miss Molly, and their single hit No. 4 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100. Bruce Springsteen covered the Ryder version in 1980 at the No Nukes Concert in Madison Square Garden.

However, the song has nothing to do with this book, which is set in 1948. So, I’ve got a little bone to pick with Mr. Mosely about his anachronistic cultural reference. Fortunately, that’s about all I have to quibble with.

The book is told mostly in a spare style, with just enough description filtered through Easy’s wry observations. However, Mosely knows when to elaborate and even when to wax poetic. Easy is a bright everyman, good hearted but far from saintly. He’s also a WWII combat veteran with just enough PTSD to be lethal and maybe even his own worst enemy. The characters Mosely throws in with Easy are varied and believable. The story is well-paced, at times gripping and surprising, and resolves well. We’re left wanting to join Easy on another case. My only other (minor) gripe is that I had a little trouble keeping the characters straight. That might be a lack of exposition, or it might just be a me problem.   

I’m sure many people have seen the 1995 film version, starring Denzel Washington. I haven’t seen it in 30 years, and I recall it being an okay thriller, but nothing too special. It did not turn into a franchise opportunity for Denzel. That’s perhaps a shame, since there are 16 Easy Rawlins novels to date that might be adapted.

This is where I say, give it a read even if you’ve seen the film.

Lady, Go Die! by Mickey Spillane and Max Allan Collins

I was going to read Mickey Spillane’s I, the Jury, to get an introduction to PI Mike Hammer. But I couldn’t get my hands on a copy. Instead, I settled for its “posthumous sequel.” Apparently, when he died, Mickey Spillane had a slew of unfinished Mike Hammer novels laying about. The task of completing these fell to Max Allan Collins, a prolific crime fiction writer perhaps best known for the graphic novel, Road to Perdition.

After 84 pages, I put this one aside. It was a little over the top for me. One of the cardinal rules of tough guys is they don’t go around proving they’re tough. This rule gets broken in the most cartoonish, buffoonish manner possible. Hammer, in the middle of a police station, goads a few cops into a fight and then shoots a gun out of one of their hands. This guy literally shoots up a police station and the cops let him walk out with a warning.

I’ve got a few more weeks on the library loan, so maybe I’ll pick it up again. But as of now: Zero stars. Would not recommend.  

The Godwulf Manuscript by Robert B. Parker

Published in 1973, this is the first of 40 Spenser novels from the prolific mystery writer who also gave us Jesse Stone. The fictional Boston PI first came to my attention with the 1985 TV series Spenser: For Hire, starring Robert Urich. I wasn’t watching much TV in those days, and after a childhood saturated with Quinn Martin Productions, it was hard to get excited about a new detective show. Elvis Costello could have written his song about my mother, because she was always, “Watchin’ the detectives.” Columbo, Dragnet, Cannon, Barnaby Jones, Mannix, Kojak (“Who loves ya, baby?”), The Rockford Files, Baretta, Peter Gunn, The Mod Squad, and The Streets of San Francisco.

Then, in 1981, cop TV changed forever with the advent of Hill Street Blues. Steven Bochco’s groundbreaking series ushered in stark realism, overlapping storylines, and a huge ensemble where every character, no matter how apparently inconsequential, was fully fleshed out. Spenser: For Hire might have been better than standard 70s fare. But after Hill Street, it struck me as retrograde, a return to simple plots, flat dialogue, and pat endings. I didn’t give it a chance.

However, while I was searching for another PI to try, the sheer volume of Spenser books caught my attention. I found a collection of the first three books entitled Enter Spenser, and I dove into The Godwulf Manuscript.

Firstly, this book is steeped in the 70s culture of sex and drugs and college radicalism. It mostly takes place on a university campus, a milieu which Parker knew intimately as a Northeastern University professor. Spenser is a relatable protagonist. Charming when he needs to be, but not suffering fools patiently. Some of the lip he gives authorities comes off as gratuitous, and a fair number of his quips don’t land. Of this latter point, Parker seems aware. On more than one occasion, he has a character comment on Spenser’s wit, as if that validation will get us readers to play along. But, all in all, the story was well plotted, moved at a brisk clip, and was resolved satisfactorily. I’m not a terribly fast reader, but I sped through this book. Now, since I’ve got two more Spenser novels chambered, I’ll probably give him another shot.

Interestingly, I learned that Parker completed an unfinished 1958 Raymond Chandler novel, Poodle Springs, published in 1989. (Chandler had written the first four chapters.) Then in 1991, Parker published his own Marlowe novel, Perchance to Dream, a sequel to The Big Sleep. This one has me curious. Maybe we finally learn who killed the chauffeur.

So there it is. My complete book report from Private Eye July. Now, what about August?

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Could NAD+ Help Pres. Trump’s CVI Diagnosis?

July 26, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Is optimization the key to managing Chronic Venous Insufficiency?

On July 17, 2025, the White House announced that President Trump had been diagnosed with chronic venous insufficiency (CVI), which was causing swelling in his lower legs and feet. My first thought was, Ouch. Trump’s a big guy at 6’ 3” and easily 240 lbs. (if not 280), and putting that weight on swollen feet can’t be fun. To make matters worse, he puts in long days and even if he’s not on his feet the whole time, he has little opportunity to elevate his feet, which is important to manage the condition. And as I’ve often been told, swollen feet are sometimes an indicator of a heart condition, and the last thing we want is a Commander-in-Chief with a bum ticker.

Heart & Arteries

My second thought was, “Gee, this sounds familiar.” Since my early 50s, I’ve been bothered with swelling in my feet and lower legs, especially after flying in an airplane. I’ve had spidery veins in my ankles since my 40s. In my young adult days, a three-to-five mile run was a staple of my fitness regimen. But since my mid-50s I haven’t done any running; a quarter mile on pavement will cause my feet to balloon. (I had an acupuncturist who suggested eating pearl barley when my feet swell, and that’s generally helpful.)  

I’ve also developed painful neuropathy in my legs, which has dampened some of my activities. Since 2012, I’ve been an avid ballroom dancer, but the pain has sucked much of the joy out of that. Even gardening, which requires a fair amount of crouching and kneeling, was producing terrible pain in my swollen legs.

However, in the last couple of years, I’ve gotten a great degree of relief from the swelling and neuropathy, relief that I attribute to NAD+ optimization. If you’ve read my other columns on the subject, you know that the supplement I take, Vitality Boost from Jinfiniti, has helped me turn around a plethora of symptoms related to age and metabolic deficiencies. Before I was taking Vitality Boost, I slept badly because of cramping in my legs and my first few steps every morning were especially trying.

Today, I’m doing much better. Not only don’t my feet swell up anymore (and I rarely have to boil any barley), and I don’t get night cramps anymore, but the neuropathy is subsiding. That’s a symptom we’re told will only get worse with age. Yet mine is improving, along with other symptoms like fatigue, brain fog, allergies, etc. In fact, my issues with inflammation, the source of so much age-related pain, have diminished to the point where I no longer suffer from shoulder impingement, and am back to lifting weights at the gym.

So, I wondered if NAD+ optimization might also help President Trump and other folks suffering with chronic venous insufficiency. I contact Dr. Jin-Xiong She, the eminent microbiologist behind Vitality Boost and he emphatically told me, “Yes!”

What is chronic venous insufficiency or CVI?

Chronic venous insufficiency occurs when the veins in the legs struggle to return blood to the heart, often due to damaged or weakened valves. This leads to blood pooling in the lower extremities, causing symptoms such as swelling, aching, cramping, or skin discoloration. While generally regarded as a benign condition, particularly prevalent in individuals over 70, CVI warrants a closer look. In severe cases, it can result in leg ulcers or increased risk of complications like deep vein thrombosis (DVT). According to the Cleveland Clinic, CVI affects approximately 1 in 20 adults, with risk factors including advanced age, obesity, prolonged sitting or standing, and a history of blood clots.

President Trump’s physician, Dr. Barbabella stated that no evidence of DVT, arterial disease, heart failure, or systemic illness was found. All lab results were within normal limits and an echocardiogram confirmed normal cardiac function.

Orion at White House for Made in America Product Showcase (NHQ201807230018)

Treatment for CVI typically focuses on symptom management and preventing progression. Conservative measures include wearing medical-grade compression socks to aid blood flow, elevating the legs for 30 minutes multiple times daily, and engaging in regular exercise like walking to strengthen leg muscles. Weight management is also critical, as excess weight exacerbates venous pressure. In more severe cases, treatments like sclerotherapy (injecting a solution to collapse affected veins) or laser therapy may be used to reroute blood through healthier veins. The White House did not disclose a specific treatment plan for the president.

President Trump’s CVI diagnosis underscores the importance of proactive health management in aging leaders, something that was not a priority for the last White House.

Can NAD+ optimization alleviate and/or eliminate CVI?

According to Dr. She, NAD+ can definitely help President Trump’s condition on multiple fronts:

  • Help repair damage and leaks in the veins
  • Help manage weight by boosting metabolism
  • Reduce inflammation by combatting free radicals that produce oxidative stress.

Dr. She said he would also add a Turmeric+ product, which can help clear blood clots. 

Now’s the time to optimize your NAD+

If you are struggling with similar symptoms, you should certainly consult a physician to be on the safe side. But don’t settle for prescriptions that only mask the symptoms and don’t treat the underlying factors. I remember my mother regularly took prescription diuretics for swelling in her hands and feet, but never got any advice from her doctor on diet, nutrition, or lifestyle adjustments. She became dependent on those meds to address her frequent flareups, Fortunately, we know much more today about what is happening on a cellular level to cause these types of symptoms.

NAD+ is a natural compound that is essential for about 500 cellular functions. If you are deficient in NAD+, you’re going to have issues with a sluggish metabolism, insulin resistance, depleted energy, mental fog, and on and on. Optimizing your NAD+ can reverse those trends and restore you to vibrant good health. It’s well worth investigating.

Great news: Get started with NAD for 10 percent off!

Vitality Boost from Jinfiniti Precision Medicine

You can get started with Vitality Boost for 10 percent off the standard price by using my offer code KevinRush10 at checkout. Just follow this link: Jinfiniti!

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Did James Gunn Tell 81M Americans to Skip Superman?

July 8, 2025 / / 0 Comments

The liberal dog whistle hints film will be toxic for flag-waving patriots

Days before the most anticipated movie of the summer opens, its director may just have tanked the box office. In a July 4, 2025, interview with The Sunday Times, director Gunn said, “Superman is the story of America. An immigrant that came from other places and populated the country, but for me, it is mostly a story that says basic human kindness is a value and is something we have lost.” This might be an innocuous statement by the foaming-at-the-mouth, MAGA-hating standards of Hollywood. But placed in context of the Trump administration’s aggressive repatriation of criminal illegal aliens, it seems to echo the same, tired liberal line that enabled a border crisis that has created an internal, national security crisis. It throws shade on those Americans who are tired of headlines replete with illegal immigrant violence, which has ruined the lives of so many of our fellow citizens. In true CNN form, Gunn implies that if you care more about Laken Riley than you do her murderer, Jose Antonio Ibarra, you’re a xenophobic, racist bigot, who has lost the value of basic human kindness.

In tooting his liberal dog whistle, Gunn offends more than half the nation. He also reveals that he gets America totally wrong. (What liberal doesn’t?) But most importantly for DC’s upcoming film release, the director tabbed with rebooting the Superman franchise has telegraphed that he hasn’t a clue about the iconic comic book hero. We’ll take these points separately, and as always, America first.

Those Americans who support the aggressive repatriation of illegal aliens do not hold this stance due to bigotry, hatred, xenophobia, white nationalism, or any of the common calumnies the main stream media regularly recycles. We believe that if a nation is to exist, it needs borders and laws. Both have been violated, and we must correct that situation. We believe in fairness, particularly towards those hoping to immigrate via the legal process. We believe in security, which means being free from criminal gangs and terrorist sleeper cells. And we believe that exceptions prove the rule, they do not obliterate the rules. Therefore, if you cite an illegal alien who is otherwise a solid individual, we’ll concede he’s not likely to bomb a skyscraper. However, it’s madness to think that his reluctance to bomb a skyscraper justifies his continued existence in this country. He broke the law; he’s got to go. Period.

Gunn implies that since immigrants “came from other places and populated the country,” the country owes a debt to all foreigners everywhere, which can only be repaid by granting unfettered access. He associates this with kindness, but by every practical metric, it’s madness. This reminds us of an important point Vice President J.D. Vance made recently about the Christian duty to love our neighbors. Liberals regularly assert that putting up border fences to keep out Third World migrants is a failure to follow that great commandment. But this view, if implemented, would bring about absurd, unworkable, and ultimately cruel consequences. Vance was correct to site St. Thomas Aquinas on the “right order” of our duty to love. We must love our family first, then our country, then the outside world. The notion that parents struggling to put food on the table for their children should have an equal concern for the Tren de Aragua hitman recently released from the bowels of a Venezuelan prison is patently absurd. Yet, this is the ivory tower standard Gunn’s comments conjure: kindness uber alles. In the liberal mind, prioritization is discrimination, and that’s a no-no. But failing to prioritize is a recipe for anarchy.

Why can’t Hollywood get Superman right?

What Gunn seems to get wrong about Superman, Hollywood has gotten wrong before. Recall the Zack Snyder travesty entitled Man of Steel, where Superman was cast as an innocent immigrant, irrationally hated by the ugly, paranoid knuckle-draggers that make up America. His adopted father had warned young Clark against revealing who he was, because the peasants would come out with their pitchforks. Snyder’s Man of Steel was a migrant forced to live in the shadows, for fear of exposure and expulsion. This contemporary politicization of Superman was not only tedious and inartful, it betrayed the essence of Superman’s character, and the essence of the noble American immigrant. Gunn’s remarks lead us to believe he’s retreading the trail Snyder blazed.

Gunn says America has lost the value of human kindness. Therefore we cannot welcome the immigrant, Superman included. This belies the reality in America, wherein legal immigrants are regularly naturalized in moving public ceremonies. Naturalized citizens are welcomed into the fold, regardless of race, color, or creed. This fact is inconvenient for the liberal narrative, which seeks to conflate the illegal with the legal, as though there is no substantive difference. By the liberal measure, human kindness dictates that we treat the criminal and the law-abiding exactly the same. But, as is often said, those who will be kind to the cruel wind up being cruel to the kind.

To be clear, what liberal Hollywood (whether it’s Gunn or Snyder) gets wrong about Superman is their insistence that he’s an immigrant who makes the country better, full stop. While that much is true, it’s not the whole story. The whole story is one of reciprocity. We hear all the time about how immigrants make America better; but how often do we hear the reverse asserted? That American makes immigrants better people. America is a country that makes its residents better, because it gives them the freedom to pursue well-ordered lives within the framework of a just society.

In his essence, Superman is great because Superman is good. And Superman is good, at least in part, because of the influence America has had on him. Superman is good because he grew up on a farm in Kansas, working the soil to grow food for his family and the nation. Superman is good because his adoptive parents were salt-of-the-earth folks who gave him a loving upbringing and taught him the Golden Rule. We’re certain he read Matthew 20:26 in Sunday school (“Whoever wants to become great among you must serve the rest.”), marched in the Fourth of July parade, studied the self-evident truths of our great Declaration, and pledged allegiance with his hand over his heart. Superman is good because life in Smallville, Kansas, USA is good.

Try transplanting Superman anywhere else on the planet. What kind of a man does Kal-El become if he lands in the Soviet Union, Saudi Arabia, or Somalia? Is Superman great if he grows up in Gaza and is constantly fed propaganda about killing Jews? Is he great if he lands in Mao’s China and grows up reading the Little Red Book? No, Superman is great because of the formation America gave him, and that’s why he eagerly, generously, and patriotically gives back.

But when you hate America as passionately as liberal Hollywood does, you cannot admit of her greatness. You must prop up the lie that immigrants make America better irrespective of the country’s influence on them. You must show America in the worst light possible, so that Superman is only good because he lives as a being apart, undefiled by an oppressive country in need of a fundamental transformation.

Truth. Justice. Y’know, the thing.

As someone who grew up on Superman, I’m saddened that his legacy is in the hands of people who don’t understand or care about him. Who want to use him cynically to drive their own dubious agenda. But this has been a long time coming. When I was roughly 11, I bought a Superman comic which had replaced the familiar slogan of “truth, justice, and the American way,” with “truth, justice, and the Terran way.” The what now?

The Terran way seemed to suggest that there was a common mode in which all humans operated. But it was evocative of nothing. Was the USSR dedicated to “the Terran way?” What about Fidel Castro’s Cuba? Mao’s China? The American way might have been too idealistic and downright corny, but at least it was rooted in something. It was deeply rooted in the principles articulated in our founding documents. The Terran way was flotsam, woven from pixie dust, unicorn tears, and wishful thinking.

The reactions I’m seeing suggest that Gunn’s comments have dampened what was already tepid enthusiasm for the upcoming film. I was on the fence myself. Having already been brutally disappointed by Superman Returns and Man of Steel, I have no confidence that contemporary Hollywood can get Superman right. Not that they care. Film projects are no longer entertainment vehicles; they are delivery mechanisms for “the message.” James Gunn’s remarks reinforce in my mind that “the message” is his primary concern and telling a good Superman story finishes a very distant second.

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Kevin Rush Talks Pope Leo in Reel Talk Radio Appearance

June 6, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Catholic novelist sees reasons to be optimistic about first American pope

My good friend, Audrey Russo, invited me onto her radio show, ReelTalk with Audrey Russo, to talk about my impressions of our new pope. Here’s a link to the segment, which was broadcast June 5, 2025. I also get in a plug for The Wedding Routine 2: Destination Lyon.

Amazon Reader Gives “Destination Lyon” 5 Stars!

February 21, 2025 / / 0 Comments

The first review for our sequel just came in, and it’s sensational!

As an author, I never know how readers are going to receive my work. I write just to get the stories out of my head, so they stop bothering me. So, I don’t really craft them to please anyone in particular. Thus, it’s incredibly gratifying when a book hits the sweet spot, as The Wedding Routine 2: Destination Lyon apparently has.

Here’s the text of the 5-Star review that reader Jim Adams gave us on Amazon:

“A Delightful Read”

Reviewed in the United States on February 20, 2025
Verified Purchase

“I really enjoyed The Wedding Routine by author Kevin Rush and was looking forward to the second installment in this his series. I was really hoping that The Wedding Routine2: Destination Lyon would measure up to the original and I am more than happy to report that it far exceeded that expectation.

“I was already familiar with some of the characters based on my previous experience with the first volume and it was fun to get to reacquainted with these old friends once more and then meet more of Celia’s family in this next adventure. The story opens in the familiar East Coast city where Celia and Emile live and move forward to getting engaged. After some interesting and usually hilarious side stories as additional family members are introduced more in depth, including a glimpse into a dilemma being faced by Celia’s priest uncle that puts his vocation into question, the decision is made, not without some misgivings, to head to Lyon France where the wedding takes place.

“Once in Lyon Celia and her family have one week to prepare for the wedding. During this time we not only see Celia and Emile negotiate a number of difficult adjustments, including missing bride’s maids, Emile’s family resistance to the marriage and trying to figure out the various roles of those who will be in the wedding. Celia has to navigate these issues as well as make a personal career choice. All of this happens while immersing the reader in the incredible beauty and rich environment of Lyon. Readers are blessed to be introduced to the history and geography of Lyon as well art, architecture, museums and theater of this ancient city.

“This was one of those enchanting stories that I hated to have it end and made me look forward to a volume three!”

Thanks, Jim! So, what about the rest of our readers? Independent authors rely on your reviews. We’d love to hear from you. And if you haven’t started this series, what are you waiting for?

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Is Dorothy Hughes’ Pink Horse Worth Another Ride?

February 2, 2025 / / 0 Comments

Author Kevin Rush answers the question, “If I Saw the Movie, Should I Read the Book?”

Among film noir afficionados, of whom I can’t claim to be one, Ride the Pink Horse has gained near mythic status. That high regard might be due as much to its limited availability for viewing as for its quality. If you want “in” among the “in-the-know” noir buffs, you have to have ridden this particular carousel. (Y’know, kind of the way you can’t talk seriously about Big Foot unless you’ve seen him in the wild.) Yet, beyond being a necessary box to check, Pink Horse is undoubtedly a quality film.

Released in 1947, it’s an exemplar of what the Golden Age studios could do with a tight script and fine actors on a low budget. Pink Horse hooks the viewer and keeps up the tension for its 101 minute run-time, then delivers a satisfying, bittersweet conclusion reminiscent of Casablanca. But if you’re among the lucky few who’ve been able to see Ride the Pink Horse (more on that later), is it worth your time to read the book?

Readers of this column know I’ve asked that question a few times before, including with another Dorothy Hughes project, and the answer is always subject to personal taste. As goes my taste, I’d highly recommend Hughes’ noir novel, which is even more gritty, suspenseful, and noir-ish than the film adaptation.

Classic Actor/Director proves his mettle

Ride the Pink Horse stars Robert Montgomery, best known these days as the father of America’s favorite TV witch. He’s also remembered for being a stalwart Hollywood Republican, back when such out-of-the-closet actors could still have a career. But, back in the day, Bob Montgomery was a prolific B-plus movie actor, whose best films include the original Mr. and Mrs. Smith (1941, directed by Alfred Hitchcock) and Here Comes Mr. Jordan (1941, remade as Heaven Can Wait, starring Warren Beatty in 1978).

Montgomery also directed six films, five of which he starred in. These include the World War II classic, They Were Expendable (1945, starring John Wayne) and Lady in the Lake (1946). In Lady, Montgomery plays Raymond Chandler’s private eye, Philip Marlowe, and employs an odd technique that shows everything from Marlowe’s POV. That choice, IMHO, makes for very uncomfortable viewing.

In directing Pink Horse, Montgomery abandons the costly experiment that undermined Lady. And he shows that he was paying attention when Hitchcock directed him. Shot selection, framing, and pacing all contribute to the tension of the story, which builds to a gripping climax. The unfolding drama is so enticing, one hardly notices the cheap set, which at times looks like a community theater production.

A familiar post-World War II suspense thriller

The plot of Ride the Pink Horse is fairly simple. Lucky Gagin (Montgomery), a WWII combat veteran and fringe mob guy, has a score to settle with Mr. Hugo (Fred Clark), a corrupt businessman who got rich during the war while better men gave their lives. To cover up his corruption, Hugo did a bad thing, which Gagin is determined to set straight.

The confrontation takes place in a mostly Mexican town within the American southwest during a fiesta which has filled the small town beyond its capacity. While Hugo enjoys a suite at a luxury hotel, Gagin must seek shelter among the poor of the street. Most notably, Gagin falls in with Sancho, an affable carnie, who owns the carousel called Tio Vivo that entertains the children. He also meets Pila, a beautiful young girl from a nearby town, whom he treats to a carousel ride, lunch, and a makeover.

Without spilling the tea, the climax of Pink Horse, like Notorious, is haunting, subdued, and personal. It comes down to a contest of wills, not brute strength or explosive weaponry, which is refreshing in this age of bombastic pyrotechnics. Unfortunately, the resolution intrudes upon, rather than resolves, that conflict, and this is the greatest weakness in the film.

The cast—also featuring Wanda Hendrix, Thomas Gomez, and Andrea King—is uniformly excellent. Hendrix is stunningly beautiful in many closeups, and absolutely convincing as a waif. I particularly liked Clark as Hugo, the tough talking, but ultimately fragile, mob boss.

Hard-boiled noir with a glimmer of hope

At its core, Pink Horse is a familiar story of a not-so-bright, average guy, who’s not as tough as he thinks, going up against a powerful scoundrel who pulls the strings of an invisible, malevolent machine. It’s a standard plot in the noir canon, but is delivered in a fresh setting, far from the mean streets of America’s “great wrong places.” Usually, we wouldn’t expect our sullied hero to get out alive. In the noirest of noirs, our hero has made a fatal error, usually a false moral choice, which he cannot shake and which dooms him in the end. The corrupt machine is just too powerful and the system is too well rigged.

But this script, written by Ben Hetch (Notorious, 1946, and the original Scarface, 1932) and Charles Lederer (His Girl Friday, 1940, and Kiss of Death, 1947) gives Gagin an ally from elsewhere in the system. Naturally, our hero would rather go it alone. But his unwelcome ally is determined to make the system work as designed, in support of the little guy. The result is noir with less cynicism and more than a glimmer of hope.

I recommend that anyone with an interest in 1940s film noir see Ride the Pink Horse. As I noted earlier, it’s a tough horse to corral. But, if all else fails, our comrades in Russia have pirated it for your viewing pleasure. Use that link at your discretion and may the web surfer beware.

A solid thriller from a prolific author

Now, what about the novel on which this film is based? I came across the book on a recent trip to Barnes & Noble. Since I had so thoroughly enjoyed In a Lonely Place, I simply had to buy. I was not disappointed. As with Lonely Place, Dorothy B. Hughes puts us inside the mind of a desperate individual and makes us privy to his desires, urges, resentments, and sudden bursts of sentimentality. Hughes’ protagonist is simply called Sailor. His opponent is Senator Douglass, whom he calls “the Sen,” and his unwanted ally is called McIntyre.

The basics of the plot remain the same. Sailor comes to a remote southwestern town in search of the Sen. Because of fiesta, Sailor can’t find a hotel room, and must spend most of his time on the street and in the plaza. There he meets Sancho, who becomes his friend and resource in a time of crisis. Sailor’s relationship to Pila is more pronounced in its love-hate dichotomy than in the film, and the reader would not expect Wanda Hendrix to play her.

Another point at which the film and book diverge is the presence/absence of the ever-popular femme fatale. In the movie, Hugo’s female companion is a scheming, grasping beauty playing both sides of the showdown. But in Hughes’ novel, the Sen’s object of affection, strikes Sailor, who views her only from a distance, as a figure of purity, and decency. She breathes rarified air, at heights unattainable for a street thug like Sailor or a chiseler like the Sen.

Overall, the book is a much grittier affair. Hughes chronicles Sailor’s discomfiture in agonizing detail, as he deals with the indignities of being without a room. Hughes also pulls no punches about Sailor’s racist attitudes towards Mexicans and Indians.

Plus, the book gives a detailed backstory for Sailor, the Sen, and McIntyre. In the film, Gagin meets Hugo and the McIntyre figure for the first time. Their encounters are immediate and potent, but there’s no history between them. The book draws on decades of interactions to build Sailor’s tension to a breaking point. Hughes artfully raises the stakes of Sailor’s predicament to an explosive climax, which in the truest noir fashion, was darkly inevitable.

Sailor’s story is a tragedy of a lug who had a way out, but refused to take it, because taking it would have betrayed the stubborn choice he’d embraced. Readers who enjoy unvarnished realism, taut suspense, and heartbreaking tragedy will find every reason to Ride the Pink Horse, even after giving the film a whirl.

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Five Moments in Catholic History that Deserve to Be Movies

January 17, 2025 / / 0 Comments

A Catholic novelist presents some ideas of the top of his head

Hollywood has always had a fascination with the Catholic Church. But that’s not to be confused with admiration. In the early days of Tinsel Town, there were many pro-Catholic films, as the studio moguls pandered to the Catholic masses (no pun intended) and attempted to keep the Legion of Decency at bay. In recent years, most depictions of Catholicism have been negative, with any favorable, or at least even handed, release being few and far between.

As I write, the 2024 film Conclave, a scurrilous, defamatory, and heretical depiction of the inner workings of the Catholic Church, has earned $53,723,745 at the worldwide box office. It was been widely nominated on the award circuit, (but for a single Golden Globe for Best Screenplay, it’s been shut out), and we can expect it to be among the Oscar contenders, if the Academy is so bold as to hold that tedious, self-congratulatory exercise so soon after the Palisades conflagration.

Conclave shows that hating on the Church pays. But even more profitable is honoring the faith, as Mel Gibson so brilliantly demonstrated in 2004 with The Passion of the Christ. In that vein, earnest creators within Hollywood have in recent years tried to promote the faith with movies like Fatima, Nefarious, Cabrini, and Wildcat. Nevertheless, there’s always room for more.

Catholicism is a religion etched in history. It exists because God chose to enter human history—physically, as our incarnate Redeemer. Plus, there’s nothing Hollywood loves more than a true story (which they can tell falsely). Thus, I thought it would be fun to list a few persons and/or events from history that would make great Catholic films. So, without further ado, let’s look at these five subjects.

Four Nuns on a Submarine

Think Operation Petticoat meets The Lilies of the Field with a little Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison and Destination: Tokyo thrown in.

On New Year’s Day, 1943, the submarine USS Nautilus rescued 29 persons trapped behind Japanese lines in the Solomon Islands. The rescuees included four Carmelite nuns in white habits, two of whom were nurses, while the other two were teachers. As told by the website theleansubmariner.com:

[The Sisters] had arrived in the Solomon Islands in December 1940. These young women were new to missionary life, confronting an unknown culture for the first time, and did not speak the languages spoken on the various islands. Also, they had to learn how to get around the jungle. One year after they arrived, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

The Japanese quickly occupied many of the islands in the South Pacific. The nuns had been deeply involved in a village on the island of Buka. They had no idea that the Japanese wanted Buka for an airfield.

Sister Hedda Jager was the nun in charge of journaling their experiences. No matter what kind of day she was having, she always managed to record the day’s happenings.

As the Japanese get closer and closer, Sister Hedda records how their lives morphed from working as missionaries to being filled with sheer terror. They made it to Bougainville where they learned how other missionaries in the Solomons had been tortured and executed.

There were Marist missionary priests on the island and, knowing what the fate of the nuns would be if captured, they managed to hide the Sisters for months in the jungle. On New Year’s Eve 1942, the priests managed to get the Sisters and 25 others to the beach in Teop Harbor. It was then they all learned that a submarine would be their means of rescue.

The following video is from The Silent Service, a dramatic anthology TV series that ran from 1957 to 1958. The brainchild of Rear Admiral Thomas M. Dykers, who retired from the Navy in 1949 after 22 years service, this series mainly focused on the U.S. Navy’s submarine fleet in the South Pacific during World War II and the Korean War.

But, the story deserves more than a 25 minute summary. It has all the elements of a thrilling wartime adventure. Some savvy producer should grab up Sr. Hedda’s notebook and hand it to a brilliant Catholic screenwriter. You can contact me through this website.

And while we’re in the South Pacific….

Jesuit Internment in the Philippines

Just a couple of years ago, I learned that one of the most mild-mannered, gentle priests I had ever known had been a Japanese prisoner of war in the Philippines during World War II. Rev. John Ruane, SJ, was a philosophy professor at St. Peter’s College (now University) during my father’s tenure there. At some point, the University decided to videotape him telling about his experiences.

The website NJ.com summarized Fr. Ruane’s story as follows:

Ruane, from St. Paul the Apostle Church in Greenville, entered the Society of Jesus, known simply as Jesuits, after his St. Peter’s Prep graduation in 1937. After his novitiate years and some studies, Ruane volunteered and was accepted to study philosophy, the standard course of study for Jesuit seminarians, in the Philippines.

The New York province of Jesuits sent many missionaries there to recruit members for their order and Ruane said, “Going to the missions appealed to me.”

He arrived at the Ateneo de Manila, the most famous Jesuit college in the Philippines, in July 1941. By Jan. 1, 1942, all the priests and seminarians were placed under house arrest by the Japanese military. He had to complete a form and wear an armband whenever he left the college grounds. The Japanese soldiers patrolled the area and he tried to avoid them on the street.

As the war intensified, the Jesuits were moved in July 1945 to the Los Banos camp. They could take few belongings and the 80 Jesuits were assigned to live in Quonset huts with 16 internees in each.

They would be given “lugao,” a mixture of rice and very little meat twice a day with water. “One pig would last for 1,000 servings,” he said. “We were weak.” He said that they did not move around too much to preserve their strength and people would blackout often.

The priests would take turns saying Mass with the wine they had smuggled into the camp. There were books that they would share reading. Some of the Jesuits were professors who would lecture the internees. Jesuit Father James Reuter, now 95 and the only other Jesuit survivor, would write songs mimicking the Japanese, said Ruane. … What was most difficult for Ruane was the separation from his large Jersey City family since he could not send or receive mail. His father, Thomas, died during his internment.

The internees believed that the Japanese were getting ready to kill them. But Ruane said they never gave up on the Americans and knew they were close since their airplane engines were stronger than the Japanese, which he called “tinny.”

One internee, Peter Myles, escaped and met up with the U.S. troops to give them the details of the Japanese soldiers, who would put down their weapons and exercise every morning at seven o’clock. That’s the time the U.S. parachuted from nine C-47 airplanes, killed all the Japanese and loaded the internees on 59 amphibious tractors manned by the 672nd battalion.

Ruane eventually returned to the States to be ordained in 1949.

Given the horrid state of the Jesuits today, it would be great to produce a film that recalls the past heroism of the much better men who used to make up the Society.

Now, switching to the European theater….

A Catholic Cardinal Opposes the Nazis

Dietrich Bonhoffer and Maximillian Kolbe were not alone in their struggles against The Third Reich. Among the stalwarts of the Church who opposed Fascism was Cardinal Clemens August von Galen, the bishop of the diocese of Münster in Germany from 1933 to 1946. During his tenure, von Galen waged a bold, relentless campaign against Nazi policies. Known as The Lion of Munster, von Galen was especially vociferous against their euthanasia program that sought to purge society of individuals they regarded as defective. In our age of disposability, with abortion and assisted suicide at alarming rates, it’s important to recall the Cardinal’s struggle to uphold the dignity of human life.

The Winged Hussars Save Christendom

Well, they didn’t actually fly, but c’mon! They saved Christian Europe from the Muslim horde.

I love a good western, and I’ve always gotten an thrill when the bugle sounds and the cavalry comes charging over the hill to rescue the beleaguered settlers and put the savages to flight. The Winged Hussars represent the greatest cavalry charge in world history.

Perhaps best told in Andrew Wheatcroft’s history, The Enemy at the Gate, the story begins in July 1683. The City of Vienna is under siege by the Ottoman Empire. The Ottomans, led by Grand Vizier Kara Mustafa Pasha, had an army estimated at 120,000 men, supported by artillery. Vienna was the capital of the Habsburg Empire. Its fall would allow the Ottomans to push deeper into Central Europe, potentially threatening the rest of Christendom. The siege began in July 1683 and quickly placed the city in a desperate situation.

The defenders, a mixed force of Austrian, German, and Hungarian troops, were grossly outnumbered. Ottoman artillery severely damaged the city’s fortifications. The prolonged bombardment, hunger, and disease eroded morale, and a sense of despair settled over the city. By early September, Vienna’s position was untenable.

The city had sent urgent calls for help to European allies, particularly to King John III Sobieski of Poland, a renowned military leader and a hero of the ongoing struggle against the Ottomans. Sobieski had already participated in several campaigns against the enemy and recognized the importance of preserving Vienna.

Despite being engaged in his own local conflicts, King Sobieski responded swiftly. He gathered a large coalition force, including Polish, Austrian, German, and Hungarian troops to meet the existential threat of Kara Mustafa’s army. The Polish contingent consisted primarily of the Winged Hussars, an elite cavalry known for their heavy armor, lances, and distinctive feathered wings that gave them a fearsome and almost mythical reputation on the battlefield. Their renown as shock cavalry was well earned: they were trained to charge with overwhelming force to break enemy lines. Their wings, attached to their backs, were not just ceremonial; they were designed to make a loud noise as they charged, striking fear into the enemy and intimidating enemy horses.

On September 12, 1683, Sobieski and his allies, numbering around 70,000, launched a counteroffensive from the north, while the defenders inside Vienna launched their own sortie. The decisive moment came when the Winged Hussars descended upon the Ottomans. With lances lowered and wings fluttering, they crashed the lines, causing panic among the enemy. The Ottoman troops fled in disarray, and Kara Mustafa’s carefully constructed siege lines collapsed. The defeat was complete, and the Ottomans were forced to retreat.

Such a film has zero chance of being made today. Potential producers would be too afraid to offend the descendants of those Ottomans, who now live comfortably at taxpayer expense in Munich, Paris, and London, and are striving to complete the work of the Grand Vizier. Certainly, the political hacks of the EU believe it is better to let the churches of France burn than to remind the descendants of Christendom that their ancestors once fought so valiantly to preserve their culture.

A Samurai of Christ

Lastly, think The Mission meets The Last Samurai or maybe, Seven Samurai. Anyway, it’s a story of heartfelt conversion with big, long swords.

Ukon Takayama, also known as Justo Takayama, was born in 1552 into a samurai clan with a long history of service to powerful warlords. Raised in the ways of the samurai, including the strict code of bushido, Takayama converted to Christianity after encountering Jesuit missionaries.  

As a Christian samurai, blending his warrior ethos with his newfound Christian spirituality, Ukon became a protector and patron of Christians in Japan. He shielded them from persecution, which was steadily intensifying. This brought Ukon into direct conflict with Japan’s ruling warlords. Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who ruled Japan, banned missionary activity in 1587 and pressured Ukon to renounce his faith. When Ukon refused, Hideyoshi stripped him of his position, lands, and status.

With the Tokugawa shogunate in 1603, Christianity fell under even greater persecution. Though elderly by now, Ukon remained unshaken in his belief. In 1614, Ukon and his family were forced into exile in the Philippines. He died in Manila on February 3, 1615, just a few months later. Ukon Takayama was beatified by the Vatican n 2017.

Of course, there are innumerable stories like these that filmmakers could develop. When I think of a few more, I’ll write another post. (Filmmakers who are interested in fiction might consider The Lance and the Veil and The Wedding Routine.) Now, here a question for the readers. What are some moments of Catholic history you’d like to see memorialized on film?

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Christmas Discounts for Two New Catholic Novels

November 25, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Author Kevin Rush wishes you Merry Christmas with 25% off his latest books

We’re coming up on Thanksgiving, and in no time we’ll be preparing for Christmas. There is much to be thankful for this year (including, perhaps, the preservation of our beloved Republic), but even so, our posture should be prayerful anticipation rather than premature jubilation. As we do every year in Advent, we must reflect on our shortcomings, our flaw and failures, and marvel that in spite of it all, God our Father wishes to shower us with mercy. May His mercy draw us closer to Him and farther from the abyss of “fundamental transformation” we’ve been toeing of late.

On the point of gratitude, I am very thankful for the loyal readers who’ve supported my modest efforts to tilt the cultural axis back to quality entertainment that uplifts and edifies. Your willingness to purchase, read, and post reviews of my books has kept me going, despite the Sisyphean existence of the independent author. In the spirit of gratitude, I want to offer you these links for Christmas discounts of my most recent books, Harvesting Eden and The Wedding Routine 2: Destination Lyon.

Hardly a warm-and-fuzzy Christmas story, Harvesting Eden is a rough-edged fable that employs fantasy and sci-fi motifs to illustrate the dangers of contemporary, secular society, where today’s fleeting feelings are weighed more heavily in the balance than 5,000 years of hard-won wisdom.

As 16-year-old Tara Hartzwell mourns the loss of her twin sister, she’s ready to throw her own life away, until the appearance of a mystery girl plunges Tara into an intragalactic struggle, that teaches her there is no peace for a creature at war with its Creator. But now that I think of it, Harvesting Eden might be a classic Yuletide tale, in the tradition of A Christmas Carol. “God bless us, everyone!”

Readers of The Wedding Routine, which I released three years ago, will recall that Christmas played a prominent role in the climax of that story. I won’t give anything away for those of you who haven’t started the series, but Celia and Emile are back in The Wedding Routine 2: Destination Lyon. Yes, it’s a destination wedding for our two lovebirds, but not without the screwball complications that make for an entertaining RomCom.

Destination Lyon is also my personal love letter to the city I visited in fall of 2019. It’s filled with cultural and historical references woven into the narrative, as the reader encounters this beautiful city through the eyes of its natives and Celia’s crazy New Jersey relatives.

Again, not to give too much away, but as Celia finds her dancer’s feet getting a bit cold, she’s pretty much on her own. She has no luck seeking advice from her uncles or even her mother, who seem to be going through simultaneous midlife crises, which their experience in Lyon helps them happily resolve. Destination Lyon neatly sets up The Wedding Routine 3, which I hope to compete in a timely manner.

Order your books today and save $3.50 off the cover price

To get your discounted copy of either book, just click on the link in the second paragraph above. They take you directly to IngramSparks, the printer. Once again, thank you for your support, and I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving and a Merry Christmas.

Disclaimer: Links in this column may be affiliate links. When you click on an affiliate link and make a purchase, this website receives a small commission at no extra cost to you. But this support is very much appreciated.

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