Tuesday, April 05, 2005

The Pope is Dead and the World Sneezed.

I took this picture during my trip to Toronto where I had doctors look at me to figure out a fabulously expensive way to keep me alive for one or two more horrible years:



Last Saturday, the Pope left his earthly, Shar-Pei-esque body to float up to heaven where he'll be playing pinochle with Jesus, who's probably pretty old by now.
Isn't that a pleasant thought? Sitting around in heaven farting around for eternity? Think of all the masturbating I can do! I can't wait!

But who was this man under the tall white hat? What makes him so important that the national news would somehow divert its flash bulbs and gawkers from the living digestive system that was Terry Schiavo towards a wrinkly old man?

PJP2, as I will abbreviate his name, was a very conservative pope in his hey-day. He spoke his mind on a lot of issues, and while I often disagreed with him, he at least had firm opinions and stuck to them.

Not so in recent years. Time and senility turned the pope into a baked potato. It's funny how our bodies strip us of all of our dignity when we would probably most likely deserve it. When I retired, The Good Years began with my wife suffering from a heart attack and dying, and it has been a slow, steady decline ever since. The pope didn't have such luxuries as retirement, it's a life-time position, so the pope's decline, unlike my own, was the center of the media's attention. Sure, he might have worn the pope's garments, but that thing being escorted around go-kart surrounded by a plastic bubble was most definitely not John Paul II.

I remember seeing footage of a little boy's mother forcing her son into the pope's claw-like, leather clad hands, all the while the boy shrieked like he was about to get a booster shot. The pope merely kissed him on the cheek, but the boy cringed for the universal act of love, then continued his squeeling as his mother took him away, embarrassed by her little boy's reaction to *The Pope* slobbering all over his cheek. Shit, I'd have squeeled too if I were the little boy, much like my grandchildren look at their parents awkwardly when their parents tell them to give grandpa a hug.

This has been a fabulous week of deaths, a resounding triumph followed by a victory lap for the Grim Reaper. Will I mourn? Yes, I will mourn every bit as much as when my vegetable garden died back when I had a home of my own to grow it.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Mary said...

I came across your blog using the "next blog" tagbar thing and I have never been so ofended. You have defilled the name of one of the greatest humanitarians and religious leaders of our time. He ended communism! Where would the world be today if he hadn't been solely respensible for the fall of the Berlin Wall?
You have no respect for religion and when you do finally die (which I hope is very soon), you're going to burn in the deepest pits of hell.

4:16 PM  
Anonymous Mary's a Racist said...

Yea Mary if you are so religious and so offended doesnt religion teach to love thy brother and not show hate towards eachother. You just wished tom to hell because of this blog, what do you think your religion would say about that

8:26 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home