Breaking news in what’s become known as the Charlotte standoff.

The last of the fleeing Latin Mass goers have been chased by authorities from most of the diocese of Charlotte and are now huddling together in a small church in Moorestown, North Carolina. The FBI reportedly has numerous undercover agents embedded in the parish and should be turning on them shortly.

My deeply embedded sources are now reporting that we may soon be seeing the end of this terrible crisis, what some are calling the silent scourge lurking in the shadows of our most sacred institution: The Latin Mass.

It turns out that despite being criticized, ridiculed, and name-called for the past decade, some Catholics still insist on attending the Mass nobody can understand which features a priest turning his back on his flock. And some authorities are not happy.

Sources report that diocesan higher-ups, aided by a newly formed, highly specialized unit of the FBI called Secret Undercover Catholic Squad (SUCS) have begun actively seeking out those who prefer the Latin Mass and targeting them for arrest and re-education.

Meanwhile, attack choppers are circling and are currently targeting anyone wearing a mantilla or found with traces of incense on their clothes.

I’ve received word that they’re fairly easy to identify. They’re the ones not wearing flip flops to Mass and are often with children who seem confident, happy, and are oddly not staring blankly into their phones.

If any priests are apprehended some are arguing for the death penalty. There is, however, a theological debate, as to whether the priest would be forced to face the firing squad or remain with his back to them. Hopefully, the bishop of Charlotte will be making that decision shortly.

If caught, a Latin Mass attendee faces a possibly lengthy re-education that includes mandatory participation in a Folk Mass featuring a tambourine, a guitar solo that goes on longer than Freebird, and a sermon delivered entirely in interpretive dance by a deacon in a multi-colored stole.

The bishop of Charlotte with all the charm of an HOA instructing you that your lawn flamingos have to face north has informed the good people of Charlotte that they can no longer attend a reverent Latin Mass.

Now, you might have heard about this “Latin Mass” thing. The Latin Mass is the old-school version. We’re talking ancient rites, chanted prayers, and a whole lot of Latin. It’s like going to a fancy, historically accurate reenactment, but with incense and more kneeling.

Critics of the rite accuse the attendees of LARPing as ancient Catholics, reliving the glory days of the Church, and condescending to anyone attending the Novus Ordu.

Essentially, it’s the New Coke/ Classic Coke argument but each side believes the other is imbibing poison. So the internet has spent the last decade pitting these two groups against one another in combos death matches.

But then, along comes Bishop Michael Martin of Charlotte. And the good bishop, God bless him, looked at this situation and apparently said, “You know what we need? More acrimony.”

That’s right, folks. The good bishop is giving the old heave-ho to the Latin Mass from most of the parish churches. If you want it, it’ll be inconveniently located at one single solitary parish.

Now, the official line, and I’m paraphrasing here, is that this is all about “unity.” Unity, my friends, is a word that often gets thrown around right before someone does something that causes a whole lot of disunity. He’s demanding unity, even if he has to tear us apart to get it!!!

But then, wouldn’t you know it, the good people of Charlotte, those who actually like their Latin Mass, started writing letters, calling, and sending incense signals. And lo and behold, the bishop, showing a surprising flash of common sense (or perhaps just a desire to avoid a full-scale liturgical rebellion), delayed the whole shebang from July until October.

Does he think they won’t be as upset in October?

So, here’s hoping that by October, something changes, and these folks can go back to praying in peace, in whatever language they prefer, without feeling like they’re breaking some obscure diocesan ordinance.