What? Me? The New Pope?

Well, what a surprise! I can hardly believe it! Um... I guess before I do anything else, I should thank the Cardinals who elected me . I just spent 14 days locked up with these guys, and I’ve got to tell you, they’re all a bunch of crazy water buffalo, and any one of them would make a better Pope than I. But for some reason they want me to do it, and as we all know, there's no arguing with a herd of water buffalo.

So, for better or worse, now I’m the Pope. That’s quite something. Doesn’t happen to a guy every day. I just hope I don’t blow it. Here goes...

The first thing I’m going to do is make my old buddy John Paul Two a saint. It’s going to happen sooner or later anyway, so we might as well just do it now, and get it out of the way. I don’t know if it means as much to be a saint these days as it used to - there seems to be an awful lot of them around - but if ever the shoe fit, it would be on the size seven foot of my dear friend and predecessor , JP, for bringing his peaceful, loving, inclusive faith to the entire world, as no other Pope had ever done before him. Jesus would be proud.

But as wise, and holy, and altruistic as JP was, he was definitely old school. He believed so strongly in the sanctity of the Creation Of Life, that he forbade Catholics to use condoms, or any method of artificial birth control, and I must admit I can see where he was coming from. The Creation Of Life is a holy process - perhaps the holiest of processes. It is not something to be taken lightly. Indiscriminate use of contraceptive devices to facilitate a life of self destructive hedonism is pretty much a sin in all religions, isn’t it? It’s certainly not very bright.

But is it any less a sin to bring twelve children into the world, when you can only afford to feed two?

JP was sticking to the law of the church, and although that was to his credit, that law was made back when infant mortality was so high, you had to have twelve kids just to get two that would grow old enough to steal the keys to the family ox cart, pile all their friends in the back, and go paint the village purple.

Of course, in all fairness, JP was not saying you had to have twelve children. He was suggesting that after two or three kids, you could just stop having sex, which ultimately goes to show what a life of celibacy can do to your grip on reality.

The times have changed. There are more diseases now. It’s time to update the rule book. From this moment on, Catholics no longer need to hide their condoms, and feel guilty about using them. It’s okay. You can use them. I said so, and I’m the Pope.

Just don't abuse the privilege, or I will personally come to your house and kick your butt.

Next item. Women in the priesthood. Listen boys, I’m no happier than you to have to start leaving the toilet seat down in the rectory, but let’s face it: they’re just going to keep harassing us until we finally give in - and we will in the end, because we're men; you know that as well as I do - so we might as well just get it over with. Besides, admit it, the place could use a woman’s touch here and there. So go pick your underwear up off the floor, and hide the girly mags, because I’m letting them in. That’s right ladies, if you think you can walk the walk, from this moment on you are now allowed to enter the priest hood, and may God help us all.

So, what do you think? Enough for my first day - hell, my first five minutes - as Pope? Oh yeah, Popes are allowed to say hell now. What the hell. Hell hell hell hell! Man, that felt great! I might have to authorize a few more words, but later for that.

I’ve probably shocked the world enough for now, and I’ve got a lot of important Popely duties waiting for me, I’m sure. So, uh, go forth... and be good to each other. Oh, one more thing. Priests can marry now. That was always a silly rule. I’m sorry, JP, but it was.

Okay that’s all, I promise. Ciao, and oh, yes: God bless you all.

The ink was not even dry on my papal acceptance speech (reproduced above) when I found myself overwhelmed by a deluge of one letter, and suddenly I realized the immense responsibility of my office. This was a call to action from one of my flock! A desperate plea for spiritual guidance. Questions were posed. Was I prepared to give up everything to find the answers? Were my shoes suddenly six sizes too large? Then, just as I was about to completely lose my composure, it struck me: Perhaps this letter was nothing more than the mad musings of a depraved infidel, whose soul was doomed, and therefore none of my concern.

The letter is presented below in its entirety. You decide...

Well, as you may have heard, I'm not the new Pope after all. Turns out it was all simply a misunderstanding. Somebody (I won't mention any names), had a little too much sacramental wine, names and faces were confused, everybody talking different languages... it could have happened to any one. But everything is straightened out now, and to be honest, I'm just as happy. In these dark, uncertain, atavistic times, with crazed terrorists hiding under every rock, being the supreme leader of just about any religious group is like walking around with a target painted on your back - and I'm too young to die. No, I will gladly go back to my little church in the woods, and ponder the great problems of the cosmos, like: how can we put the lama back in the ram-a-lama ding dong?

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