|Ejected from an L.A. Church: First in an Online Series Called Molested Catholic
By Kay Ebeling
April 29, 2009
Had a bizarre experience last Saturday, but face it, it’s a bizarre experience to be in this population of adult victims of pedophile priests. Recently my new co-producer Ken Kosiorek founded Molested Catholic, an amorphous project that involves street performance type confrontation and videos on Molested Catholic his YouTube channel. He drove up from San Diego Saturday and we went to a San Marino church, Ken to do his act, me to shoot it and also try to answer questions from the past. Ken tells a whack story of being singled out by nuns in an upstate New York boarding school, primarily because he was left-handed, and then the nuns handled him in another way. . . .
Besides determination to tell the story of “sex starved clergy” as Ken calls them every way we can, Ken and I both see this is all new territory. We're using new media, talking about a topic no one has really seen before, so anything goes, whatever is in front of you, step up and do it. Neither of us came right out and said it, but we both have a sense God is in charge, and He really wants these pedophile priests and their enablers outta there.
Ken produced these t-shirts that say, “I was molested by Dirty Filthy Catholics.” Blatant, upfront truth in a person’s face when you see him on the street wearing it. Ken blares the t-shirt on his chest where lots of Catholics can see him and then starts a spiel, almost a comedy routine:
“I called the archdiocese for help because a sex starved felonious group of nuns molested me, and the archdiocese told me sure, we'll help you. We'll send you to therapy. I said, me need therapy? You're the ones who have dirty filthy sex starved clergy molesting children in every city in the country. And you think I need psychiatric help?”
Unfortunately as in video here, most people walking by just keep their heads down and walk by (shot with my excited hands).
The church where we went April 25, Sts. Felicitas & Perpetua in San Marino, is part of my story. This is the church where I trashed the girls restroom in the back in 1962 or so, when I was 13 years old. Puberty must have set it off and I knew the Catholic Church had something to do with the sexual monster I was becoming.
Instead of going to 5:30 PM Mass that day I ditched around the back of the church into a girls’ restroom - it was much more concrete and surrounded by open space than it is now. At age 13 I went in this bathroom, took out a lipstick, and wrote “Hypocrites, Catholics are hypocrites” all over the walls - until the lipstick was crushed to nothing.
I must have been making noise, probably grunting like a deranged animal.
I had to do more. I tore down the cloth towel dispenser, tore it from the wall . No matter what I did to destroy this place, it wasn’t enough, I had to do more and more more and more and then-
In the doorway was a silhouette, a nun had come in. They still wore habits back then and the sun was setting behind her, it was bright behind her, she was a black shimmering form. Eerie. Something about her presence made me come to a stop. Silence.
I was here now on a Saturday in 2009 to see if geographic details - wind, light - would help trigger more memory, as I really want to know what made me go so nuts that day.
I never had to go to church again after the incident, So this church in San Marino was the last Catholic Church I ever went to.
Last Saturday I was actually at the church to do a video diary about that incident when I was 13 years old.
And three police cars showed up, three whole cop cars one officer in each. We are such scary looking persons, Ken and me.
Maybe next time we can do cartwheels.to get the parishioners' attention.
It stuns me that the police showed up and sided with these criminals, throwing us out onto the sidewalk, while Mahony’s Mafiosa style security guards in maroon coats - goons real goons, the same guys at this church as at the downtown cathedral during demonstrations - stand at the top of the church stairs directing the San Marino Police to vacate these two rabble rousers from their property.
I'm a sick old lady and they almost weren’t going to let me sit down.
The cops had to stop themselves. They almost told me it was not okay to sit on the concrete property border marker in front of the church by the sidewalk. I was shaky, you can tell by these videos.
What a church.
WHAT A CHURCH
I do admit I hollered at the maroon coat guy’s back: “My father gave thousands of dollars to this church," I yelled, "how can you throw me out just for being here!” His back bristled but he just walked back into the church and let the doors slam in my face. I wilted, thinking well, thousands of dollars was a lot of money back in the sixties. . . .
I just don’t get it.
The police should have been there for us, not them.
And why didn't they ever call the police when the 150-200 or so priests in the L.A. archdiocese were raping little boys and girls?
Then we had this run-in with a nun there. Not in a habit, this fem is dressed so I think slutty, showing way too much skin. I mean, she's showing more body than most women I see around Hollywood, except the prostitutes:
See an upcoming post for the rest of this story, including the nun denying she knows the whereabouts of Monsignor Richard Loomis, and scampering away in her slit skirt to be with the priests. Loomis is pastor of this very church and a famous L.A. pedophile enabler, next in the Molested Catholic series...
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