Navigating the Digital Abyss: Unmasking the Devil’s Tactics in Online Discourse


In the vast expanse of the digital landscape, where opinions clash and egos collide, a subtle malevolence seems to linger—the devil finds a home in the chaos of internet comment sections. This virtual realm, often hailed as a marketplace of ideas, reveals a darker side where the battle for truth is marred by the cacophony of raw emotion and the absence of reasoned discourse.

The Temptation of Raw Emotion

Engaging in these comment sections is akin to stepping onto a battlefield without body armor, where every keystroke can be a weapon, and reason is the first casualty. As I ventured into a discussion on the joys and challenges of parenthood, the vitriol that followed made me question not just generational differences but the very nature of dialogue in our digital age.

I expressed my own personal experience of fatherhood and the joy that it has brought me. However, when I dared to offer my opposing perspective, emphasizing the personal and societal benefits of fatherhood, I was met with a barrage of hostility, misrepresentation, and accusations of being “evil.” These individuals, shielded by the anonymity of the internet, felt emboldened to lash out with vitriolic remarks, dismissing my views as irrelevant and even harmful.

For example, I was called a “dinosaur” and a “boomer” for expressing my support for traditional values. I was also accused of being “out of touch” and “selfish” for wanting to have children. I was told to “shut the fcuk up,” and “did you take your meds today?” I was told that I was senile and suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.

These personal attacks were hurtful, but more importantly they also served to try to silence my voice and prevent me from engaging in a meaningful dialogue. The devil, it seemed, had found a way to weaponize the internet , using it to sow discord and discourage open-mindedness.

The Echoes of Selfishness and Malhonnête Intellectuelle

In the realm of pixels and screens, one encounters not only differing perspectives but also a stubborn refusal to entertain dissenting opinions. It is a breeding ground for selfishness, where personal preferences override empathy and thoughtful consideration. The accusation of wanting to control others, merely for expressing a different viewpoint, echoes the selfishness that permeates our society.

The devil’s influence is further amplified by the prevalence of “malhonnêteté intellectuelle,” a French term that roughly translates to “intellectual dishonesty.” In the world of internet comment sections, this takes the form of misrepresenting or distorting opposing viewpoints, cherry-picking evidence to support one’s own argument, and engaging in ad hominem attacks. These tactics create an atmosphere of distrust and suspicion, making it even more difficult to have productive conversations.

For instance, when I highlighted the positive impact of fatherhood on society, I was met with claims that overpopulation was a more pressing issue and that personal freedom should trump the call to embrace the responsibilities of family life. These arguments were not only based on flawed logic but also served to dismiss the value of fatherhood and the importance of raising children in a stable and loving home.

The devil takes advantage of this self-absorbed mindset by encouraging people to dismiss opposing viewpoints as irrelevant or insignificant. This creates an echo chamber effect, where individuals are only exposed to information that confirms their existing beliefs, further entrenching them in their worldview and making it harder for them to engage in meaningful dialogue.

The Age of Navel Gazing

The reluctance to welcome diverse perspectives reflects a society increasingly prone to navel gazing—fixated on individual desires and comfort, dismissing the collective wisdom that arises from shared experiences. As I extolled the virtues of fatherhood, it was met with such dismissive responses as, “Who cares what you think?” and “Mind your own business.”

The devil takes advantage of this self-absorbed mindset by encouraging people to dismiss opposing viewpoints as irrelevant or insignificant. This creates an echo chamber effect, where individuals are only exposed to information that confirms their existing beliefs, further entrenching them in their worldview and making it harder for them to engage in meaningful dialogue.

The Church’s Wisdom: A Beacon in the Digital Abyss

In the teachings of the Catholic Church, one finds a call to discernment, humility, and the pursuit of truth. In the face of emotional onslaughts, the Church encourages us to be steadfast in reason, guided by love, and unyielding in our commitment to fostering a culture of life. As Pope Francis aptly noted, “We were created to love, and love demands an open heart, open to God.”

The Church’s teachings provide a valuable framework for navigating the digital abyss. They remind us that we are not merely individuals, but members of a larger community with a shared responsibility for creating a more just and compassionate society. They also encourage us to engage in dialogue with others, even when we disagree, with respect and open-mindedness.

Conclusion: The Path to Renewal

In our journey through the virtual abyss, we must don the armor of reason and the cloak of empathy. The devil, it seems, thrives on the breakdown of dialogue and the rejection of diverse viewpoints. Let us resist the temptation to succumb to raw emotion, and instead, strive for a digital discourse that reflects the grace and wisdom found in genuine human connection.

As we confront the devil in the comment sections, let our responses be guided not by the fleeting winds of emotion but by the enduring light of reason, compassion, and the timeless teachings that remind us of our shared humanity. Together, we can create a digital space that is more inclusive, respectful, and conducive to meaningful dialogue.

We must remember that the internet is not just a place for expressing our opinions; it is also a place for learning, understanding, and building relationships. By engaging in dialogue, we can transform the digital landscape into a space that fosters not only individual growth but also a more just and compassionate society. Let us reclaim the internet as a tool for good and use it to build bridges, not burn them.

A Pilgrimage to Mont Saint Michel: A Journey of Faith and Endurance


The hot summer sun beat down as I embarked on a journey that had been brewing in my mind. Mont St. Michel was not only a quest to escape the sweltering Vendée heat but also a spiritual endeavour to connect with the divine in a magnificent setting.

A Return to Childhood Memories

The journey began at my home in the picturesque Vendée region, where I set out on a 220-kilometer trip to Mont Saint Michel. It was a return to a place I had visited as a wide-eyed boy, eager to explore its mysteries. However, this time, my mission was twofold: to capture the awe-inspiring beauty of this monument through my camera lens and, most importantly, to offer my prayers to the Almighty.

The Road Less Travelled

The road to Mont St. Michel took me through Nantes and Rennes, where I made stops at local bakeries to purchase food for the journey. As I stocked up on provisions, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my first visit to this iconic place some forty years ago. Speaking with my parents, who recalled our family visit, added a nostalgic layer to this pilgrimage.

Physical Challenges and the Power of Will

One of the significant challenges I faced during this pilgrimage was my battle with arthritis, a persistent companion that had become an unwelcome part of my life. Walking with the aid of a cane, I knew that this journey would not be without its pains. However, I had learned a valuable lesson during my time in the Army: the mind can command the body to persevere beyond its perceived limits. Armed with this knowledge, I pressed on, determined to conquer the physical difficulties that lay ahead.

Prayers in Motion

My journey was more than a physical voyage; it was a spiritual quest. Along the way, I offered up my sufferings to God, a testament to my unwavering faith. The act of praying while traversing the miles was a reminder of the power of faith, even in the face of adversity.

A Divine Encounter at Mont St. Michel

Finally, I reached the awe-inspiring Mont St. Michel. Its grandeur and the spiritual aura surrounding it took my breath away. I knew I was in the presence of something sacred. It was here that my pilgrimage took on its most profound meaning.

A Moment of Grace

Before the Blessed Sacrament, I knelt in prayer. As I poured out my heart to the Lord, I couldn’t help but notice the passers-by who seemed oblivious to the divine presence. In that moment, I offered a prayer that God might reveal Himself to them in some way. And then, as if in answer to my prayer, two individuals genuflected before the Blessed Sacrament. It was a poignant reminder that God’s presence is not always apparent, but it is real and powerful. The simple act of acknowledgment by those two individuals filled me with hope and gratitude.

A Pilgrimage Worth Every Step

As the day wore on and I made my way back home, I couldn’t help but feel tired. The physical exertions of navigating the ups and downs of Mont Saint Michel had taken their toll. However, it was a good tired, a sense of accomplishment and fulfilment that can only be gained through a meaningful journey.

Looking Ahead

Reflecting on my pilgrimage, I realize that while the physical challenges were significant, they were far outweighed by the spiritual rewards. My journey was a testament to the power of faith and the determination of the human spirit. If I were to undertake this pilgrimage again, I would not go alone. Having someone to share the driving and the walks would undoubtedly make the journey more manageable. In the end, my pilgrimage to Mont Saint Michel left a lasting mark on me. It was a journey of faith, endurance, and prayer, a testament to the power of the human spirit and the divine presence that guides our paths.

Easter 2023


This weekend is the Easter weekend, and for Catholics, this is quite a big deal. We’ve been through forty days of Lent, and the ultimate week of Holy Week, with the sacrifices we offer up for our sins. “They,” say that you can acquire a habit in 21 days, so imagine what can happen in 40 days. Did I manage to keep up all my Lenten pledges to my God? No. But I am mindful of the efforts I made since I no longer have to make them. You see, my faith is built on the fact that God suffered His Passion for my sins, and through His immense love, how He accepted His Passion freely through love for us and bent His will to the will of the Father, and through doing this He conquered death by rising from the dead, and this to save me from my sins. It is this sacrifice that we celebrate at each mass, the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross.

I am far from being a perfect Catholic and didn’t do all the services during Holy Week, but I was at Church last night for the Easter Vigil mass that I talked at length about last year, so, if you’re keen you can click the link and have a look. The main thing I had tried for Lent and managed was giving up the drink.

After mass, I went to the pub for my Easter pint of Guinness, which was lovely, but the second one was just “nice,” which is a word that one should never use, and it felt like an anti-climax. I mean I had become accustomed to being a teetotaler and going to the pub just to see and talk with my friends. It is possible to put the world to rights without alcohol.

Each year I always seem to have the same feeling of, well kid, what next? Am I pleased that Jesus has risen? Of course, I am! But it’s as if Lent has left me wanting a little more discipline. I miss it already. I’m not into beating myself up, but the little extra effort has done my soul good, and I want that to continue for the rest of the year. Lent has brought me just that little closer to Jesus, and I want that part of it to continue.

Maybe my lenten journey has changed me more than I could imagine. Is it a rejection of what could be called the old me? Could it be that Lent has helped me concentrate more on what is essential and what is superfluous? Did fasting and abstinence affect me in ways that have changed my perspective? Is God pushing me in a certain direction? Maybe I should do it more often.

Don’t worry mother, I haven’t turned into a total abstainer, but it feels good being able to say no if I want. Am I the only Catholic that this happens to?

How does death change your perspective?


WordPress, like most companies, wants to create wealth, especially for WordPress.  One way it does that is to create advertising that it will place on the sites that allow it.  IE you go on a page and every time that you click on the ad, the advertiser gets people to its page and pays WordPress for this privilege.  I’m not into advertisements on websites, and like some old-timer surfer, believe that they are a mighty pox that should be eradicated, like world poverty, and poorly made cups of tea. 

But I digress.  That last paragraph has nothing to do with death, I hear you say, and you know what, Dear Reader, you’d be right!  But I promise I will get back to death, but back to ads first.  WordPress has decided that they want to sell ad space.  Nothing has changed since the newspapers, apparently.  Ads to pay the ink and the journalist that writes the articles.  If, however, the articles in the newspaper are dismally awful, then you might not want to read the newspaper in question, and therefore WordPress wants you to “create content” that is interesting or meaningful.

They have found a sneaky way of doing this.  The buggers!  On my dashboard for this site, yes that one that people seem to keep reading despite me writing everything, WordPress gives you subject hints about what to write about.  Some were about what would happen if you won the lottery, another about describing your first computer, and then I saw this one. How does death change your perspective?

Soooo, let’s see what we write about death.  It’s like those essay titles you used to get at school in English, French, or German, etc.

It is, of course, a very loaded question, and it would be easy to play to the clichés about death.  As a religious person who is fortunate to have been blessed with a certain amount of faith and instruction, I know that death is part of life, and with taxes, happens to everyone, at least one day in their lives, usually at the end of their lives of course.

My first experience of death was at primary school, where a classmate’s brother was killed whilst crossing the road.  It certainly made me aware of the dangers of crossing the road.

In 1979 my Great Grandmother died.  This mother, grandmother, and Great Grandmother was the kind of lady that would wait for the milkman to deliver the milk with his cart and horse and pounce on the horse poop with a dustpan and brush to use the poop on her roses.  Apparently, it was a savage competition.  All this for a bucket of shit! 

At the age of 13, my grandfather died.  I was with my grandmother who had just lost her husband. I was crying and there she was comforting me instead of the other way around.  With 70 years of age difference, we certainly had a different perspective on death.

In 1987, my uncle died prematurely, and I remember seeing the family walk up the aisle in the church behind the coffin that contained his body crying.  In 1989, it was my grandmother’s time to leave this world behind and enter the next world, and it took me six months to cry.

In the last twenty years, I have lost school friends, a cousin, four aunts, two uncles, and a nephew, and when going through depression, I could have been next on the list.  Statistically, I am closer to death than my children, but death can come at any time.  Now, at 51, I am not afraid of death.  I have accepted that this has happened and can happen, and although not something I would wish upon anyone, you know it becomes more and more likely. 

It is always saddest for those left behind, and we feel the part of the deceased took in our lives, missing from us, and this missing part hurts like bloody hell.  So, if death is inevitable, then how do face it?  Some atheists have told me that you live, and then you die and you cease to exist.  How can that be?  The dead mentioned earlier in this article are still in my heart and therefore must still exist somewhere.  As a Catholic, I believe in eternal life, not for my body, but for my soul. That soul lives in my body, but there is no way of identifying it.  The soul makes me, me.  It is like talking about my spirit.  When I die, my body will die, and my soul will be judged by my creator.  What happens to my soul will depend on how I spent my life preparing myself for my death.  This death that is part of life…  If I have rejected my God, then my soul will be separated from Him and will spend eternity in hell separated from God forever.  If I have merited heaven but my soul still has the stain of sin on it, then it will be purified in the fires in purgatory, and once cleansed of sin, may enter Heaven, or if I die in a state of grace, then I will enter Heaven directly and spend eternity with my God.

So, does death change my perspective?  And if so on what?  On my life?  On the way I chose to lead my life?  Possibly.  I will die one day.  It will happen.  I hope I will be prepared and I pray for those who have died and have gone before me.  Some will say that I am delusional for believing in a big guy in the sky and that it ends when you die.  The difference between me and that person is that I have hope, faith, and love.  And yes, it changes the way I try to lead my life.

Well, that was an interesting exercise, and I might try it again.  I hope not to have been morbid or overdone the whole thing, but I have been honest with you.  Those who believe, and who accept Catholic doctrine, pray for the souls in purgatory, as they pray for us, even more so when they are delivered into God’s Presence in heaven.  It’s good to have people on your side.

Welcome to 2023


First of all, Dear Reader, I wish you a very Happy New Year for 2023! May it be better than 2022 and may it bring you everything you need to continue your life journey. At this time of year, we all tend to look forwards and backwards, and it seems fitting that Janus, the two-faced god, gave his name to January. We look backwards to the preceding year to see what we can learn from our experiences, good or bad, and forwards to the new year with hope and an expectation of change.

2022 saw my first contact with Covid back in March. Not the most pleasant of experiences, and I think I gave it a 1 out of 5 rating… It saw the war in Ukraine, and our fears of Russia going mad and destroying the entire continent. This, despite prayer, seems to still be the case, except at the cost of so much human life. Roe v Wade was overturned in the US and hope was given to the Pro-life movement. It saw my first trip back to the UK since 2019, and it was wonderful being back and seeing family after such a long time. In the final days of the year, it saw the death of Pope Benedict XVI, one of the most misunderstood popes of these times. On a personal note, we were so worried about Molly, our family dog, and feared losing her in December. Fortunately, she is a lot better but it was a close shave. It might sound silly to some, how one can get so emotionally attached to an animal, but I swear I was writing her obituary in my mind and crying about the whole thing.

For Christmas this year, I am happy to report a total lack of drama, and on the contrary, think the whole shebang went off wonderfully. This was in part thanks to the visit of two of my nieces who came to spend this special time with us. One of the nieces even came to midnight mass with me and the next day, Christmas Day, the six of us were together for mass which just shows how special Christmas is. It just shows how the simplest of things can have so much meaning and how they can bring us such joy.

I was on holiday the week before Christmas and the week after Christmas. It would appear that I might have even lost a tiny amount of weight, and some of my t-shirts seem to be less tight. It might not last, but for the moment I’m just going to enjoy it.

It was just so special to have time with my family and have them around me. I took the girls into Nantes to share some of my world with them, and believe it or not, I had a camera with me, so I might just have to share some of my world with you, too! The weather was abysmal, but on the last day before the return to work, the sun was out and I went into town to have some special Ian time, and just wonder the streets between confession, and missing the pub being open. It is likely, however, that I pop in this weekend to wish my friends a Happy New Year too!

My friend Hervé


I was at Mass, in Nantes, on a Sunday evening, and being appropriately prayerful, knees bent praying to prepare my mind for the sacrifice of the mass wondering if I was going to be able to stand up again. Despite my gammy knee, it wasn’t a problem. Mass started, and they were off.  During the entrance hymn, my director of music at my Wind band, but most importantly, my friend, Hervé, accompanied by his wife, and daughter, walk in and sit just in front of me.  We gestured hello, but you don’t interrupt the Word of God, and we saved niceties for after Mass.

It was a genuine pleasure to see him there and not just because we share the same faith, but just nice to see a frightfully nice chap, but also an all-around good egg!  We exchanged conversation and I said how wouldn’t it be nice if we could go to the pub for a pint.  They’d had a long day, but to his utter disbelief, Veronica, acquiesced and we were given her blessing.  I suggested they park in the same place as I usually did and that we meet up.  We both knew where the pub (John Mc Byrne) was and headed off to claim our reward for obvious good behaviour.

They were already at the pub by the time I parked and so I walked up to join them.  Strangely my nose just seems to lead the way!  I saw him standing outside waiting for me and I showed him the best seats in the house, or for me, nearly a home (it’s where I see my friends).  I introduced him to Simon who knows nearly everything about sport, whiskey, and good places to eat in the vicinity, the Rob, whose jokes are almost as cringe-worthy as my own, and lastly to Gavin who is half and half…  Half Scottish and half French.  His parents are obviously to blame.

We commented on how the establishment wasn’t a bar but was a proper pub, and how nice his pint of Irish IPA was.  I persuaded him to taste a pint of O Hara’s Nitro, which is the nearest thing that I found to Yorkshire bitter over here.  We both seem to have similar tastes in beer, which helps in a friendship.  It’s unbearable when one likes lager and the other friend, beer….  It tuned out that he had some homemade Bitter that he wanted my opinion on.  Ah well, there goes a perfect reason to meet up again!  Fortunately, I was going to be on holiday during that week, so we set the date and time said goodnight to each other and headed home.

I asked if I could bring along my portable photography studio to take his portrait and he very kindly agreed.  At the appointed time, on the appointed day, I turned up with my studio and dog.  Molly wasn’t very sure about hanging out with a big very friendly, almost too friendly for her, beautiful chocolate Labrador, who was coming out of puppyhood and entering doggyhood.

I said she could stay in the car and left the windows slightly open so she would be fine and said that I would come back and check on her now and again.  Smaug, the Labrador, was put on one side of the house, and Molly decided she could stay by my side and still be OK.  We tasted the beer and were unanimous in our praise of this wonderful concoction.  Then the photoshoot.  Hervé already knew that I dabble in photography, as do you Dear Reader, and was most impressed when I set up the studio.  I was quite impressed by it too because it was only that afternoon that I had back to revise how to operate my speedlights and trigger.  The first shots were more to break the ice, not just for Hervé but also for me, and already we were getting some good shots.  He played me a recording of a new project launched by the Brass Quintet with whom he plays and has my old horn teacher as the horn player.  It was amazing.  They were playing in church with a massive organ played by the organist from the Nantes Cathedral.  Wow, that is all…

We then go the instruments out.  First the E flat tuba.  I thought, let’s just break him in gently.  Then I went back out to the car to get my horn and make him look like a proper musician with the most beautiful instrument from the orchestra in his hands.  We would suggest to the horn teacher that Hervé had finally seen the light and wanted to convert.  Then we messed it up by getting out his conductor’s baton.  All in all, we were having a laugh, talking, just as friends will be want to do.

I ate with them and by the time I left that evening the two dogs had even sniffed each other and were even respecting their own private space.  That Smaug is one lovely dog and not at all dragonlike as his name suggests.  He’s a big softy.  A bit like myself Dear Reader…