TRADCATH WEIRDO

A relatively new subset of religious hysteric, the TradCath Weirdo is a blazer-clad nebbish who imagines himself to be a craggy but lovable character in a Kingsley Amis or P. G. Wodehouse novel—and cosplays to match. The result is a lot of tweed jackets, pipes, and upsetting facial hair with none of the good humor or charm that usually accompanies them. It’s normal for reactionaries to rage against the modern world, but it’s not as commonplace to encounter the esoteric affectations and Pitchfork.com-like criticisms that the TradCath Weirdo will expound through Scotch Egg breath. Imagine a Wes Anderson character but with the cool New Order song accompanying their entrance replaced by a Gregorian chant they self-flagellate to for forty-five minutes after seeing a particularly raunchy 2 Broke Girls subway ad.

Unlike many of his brethren on the Right, the TradCath Weirdo will often seek to distinguish himself by correctly identifying the horrors of capitalism. Unfortunately, his prescriptions for these problems are to bring back Latin mass and purge skirts with above-the-knee hemlines from network TV. Instead of directing his ire toward financial capital or duplicitous public servants, his psychic energy churns with Lovecraftian disgust and horror at childless couples. In fact, the TradCath Weirdo is so obsessed with fecundity and nonprocreating marriages that he represents the only type of contemporary white person that actively hates dogs.

TWEE AFFECTATIONS: Walking stick, cane, shillelagh, sitting stick, sleeping staff, shower cane

TIGHTEST FIT: Blazer made entirely of elbow patches, sleeveless cardigan vest made of badger hair, quadruple-pleated trousers, Gucci flip-flops

OVER/UNDER ON TIME BEFORE NEXT RELIGIOUS CONVERSION EXPERIENCE: Six months