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I’m generally hostile to organized religion, but when my wife decided we needed to start taking the kids to church, I reluctantly agreed. I never like to miss an opportunity to torment my horrible children, and I still vividly remember how much I hated sitting through mass as a kid.

Now, I get to watch them suffer, and unlike me, they can’t just take little sips from their flask to lessen the boredom and pain.

The other week the priest mentioned that the Archdiocese of Baltimore is conducting its first major fundraising campaign in 15 years, and they’ve already raised $65 million of their $100 million goal. The money is supposedly earmarked for education, local parishes and Catholic charities, but when I asked him specifically how that money was going to be spent, he quickly changed the subject.

I tried repeatedly to get more information, but every time, I was rebuffed. I finally gave up and was prepared to drop the issue when I got a strange call that night. The caller, who for the sake of ease we’ll call Deep Throat, said I needed to stop asking public questions or there would be “dire consequences.”

I don’t respect vague threats, so I pressed him for more details, and he finally caved and agreed to meet. What followed was like a scene from a B spy movie. We met at the old Civil War cemetery near the church, and for the better part of an hour, he explained where that money is really going.

It appears every diocese is frantically raising funds, and while 75% is actually going to help those in need, the remaining quarter of the money is earmarked for something called the Xanadu project.

According to Deep Throat, the Catholic Church has bought an isolated island somewhere in the South Pacific. It is supposedly located hundreds of miles from the nearest inhabited landmass, and they’re building a secret underground facility. This subterranean lair is shielded from even the most sophisticated spy satellites, and even Deep Throat didn’t know its purpose.

He seemed to think it had some sinister doomsday motive, and his head was filled with wild conspiracy theories. In his mind the Church was working with secret groups like the Illuminati and Bilderbergers to construct a secret refuge to help them weather the coming end of days. This lonely rock would house essential church artifacts, documents and personnel and allow them to survive the coming collapse of civilization.

Lucky for him, his fears are completely unfounded, and I’m betting there’s no Doomsday scenario here.

The Church has been rocked by high-profile molestation scandals, and this island oasis is clearly an attempt to combat that. Since those little blabber-mouth kids can’t keep their traps shut like they were told, the Church now has to build an isolated hideout where they can not only be violated but held captive indefinitely.

I hope you little brats are happy with all the trouble and work you’ve caused.