Amateur Catholic

We don't write books or do speaking tours.
In fact, we barely do our jobs.
-We're the B-Team of Catholic Bloggers-

This is the home of the Amateur Catholic® bloggers - or as we like to refer to ourselves, the B-team. We don't write books or do speaking tours. In fact, we barely do our jobs. That's not to say we're unambitious though... You see, this coalition is just the second phase our blogoshpere conquest. We suppose you could think of us as amateur crusaders too.

Membership will not bring you any money, perks, notoriety, or prestige - but you will get the privilege of proudly displaying the B-team badge on your blog! Lucky you, huh?

amateurcatholic @

If you are hosting a conference, parish function, or some other event and can not afford the exorbitant fees typically associated with a Professional Catholic®, please contact one of our members. We like to hear ourselves talk just as much as the Professional Catholics® do, we just don't charge you for it. But hey give us a meal, free beer, and a designated driver, and we'll speak about breaking the Da Vinci Code or anything else you might care to hear about.

The B-Team badge is copryright 2006, The B-Team Bloggers®. Of course, we're Amateur Catholics®, so if you use the badge without permission (enrolled membership), we won't hunt you down and make you cough up your hard-earned bucks. Just have fun with it and maybe buy us a beer next time you're in town.

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Sunday, June 25, 2006

Neil Barclay: Amateur Catholic

Every light-hearted group needs a Peter Grimes or a Gradgrind. I also wear funny long hats and dine with late rabbits (late in terms of time, not death).

I'm the sort who crawls (sic) out of bed in what is MY morning (3 PM) and stares at the nearest picture and says "Go ahead! Make my day!" Lost a lot of pictures that way.

They thought THAT was a bad day at Black Rock? Had I been there when Wojtyla rode through, the Tracy experience would have been a Monday School picnic in comparison.

He didn't ride through? Damn!

The picnic I mentioned was a lot more fun. You had to play hooky and bring beer.

Bio note:
I went through the sieve of the Novus Ordure (sic) to become a Catholic at the age of 50. That lasted five years, when I looked up from my seat on the "lector's" bench and saw the altar bimbo. Then I realized none of us were really Catholics. Next stop was a Maronite Rite. Distilled through the alembic of that Eastern set of tubes and vials I felt much more real – nearly full malt. Then somebody called a bishop started ordering the priest to add "whoopie" to the lectionary, where I was also a "lector", and certain females began invading the sanctuary, and by then I'd discovered a SSPX Mass (just twice a month) where I live (Salt Lake City), so have attended that ever since.

Now I'm informed that I'll need a conditional Confirmation. A Bishop comes here about once every ten years. Hey, I'm 68+ so I should live so long!

I'm terribly good lookin', though: see my gorgeous picture on – I'm the one under the hat. That's a real snake skin, by the way, which ought to tell you something.

Sign me up, pardner.
Welcome to the B-Team, Neil.


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