In these latter days of planetary hysteria, everyone seems to be the enemy and the real villains keep getting away with their garbage camouflaged by a crown or a papal procession. It’s enough to make you puke.
These are indeed the times that try not only our souls, but our imagination. Someone says “churchly child killer”, and all people can think of doing is to post a blog about it. And so it was with awe and elation that the answer came to me today.
We have to eat the Pope.
Cannibalism is a very catholic thing to do, after all, as any Literal Body of Christ-eater knows. It’s also the easiest and most direct way to deal with a problem: ingest it. We in the West are good at that. Hell, we chewed up at least fifty million brown people on this side of the Atlantic alone. Assimilating the enemy is old hat, and the prescribed method of all True Believers.
It’s also the moral thing to do. We eat people for their own good. Ask any missionary or corporate accountant.
Nor do I think that the logistics are a problem. Chubby pontiffs have been on the menu of various Vatican factions for centuries, and they drop like flies depending on who’s screwing who. Pope Smiley Frank is no exception. The guy’s got so many enemies at St. Peter’s that he doesn’t even live there.
Seriously, it will be an easy operation to slice and dice that plucky little Jesuit and serve him up as a spicy ragout or Argentine casserole. Most of the Cardinals will be only too happy to supply the carving knives.
Consider, too, the immense moral capital that the dissection and gulping down of Jorge Bergoglio will confer on his late memory and on his syndicate. His final, Christ-like consummation as his body and blood is consumed by the faithful! What an unbeatable publicity gimmick for a stumbling Vatican Incorporated!
Nor will the Vatican Museum Gift Shop suffer from all those new Holy Relics provided by a freshly eviscerated Pope. Just think! Bits of Jorge’s bones, a bargain at a hundred Euros apiece, guaranteed to cure the ailment or sins of any Believer! A vial of the Pope’s blood, a sure-fire remedy for baldness and a steal at only fifty Euros!
Cast your vision even further afield and imagine the immense commercial possibilities of a globally televised “My Last Supper with Jorge” event. Holy Smorgasbord! The thing would do better at the box office than the Texas Chainsaw Massacre! And think of all the merchandising spinoffs: Blue Ray DVD’s of the Pope’s Last Moments on Earth, comic books, T-shirts declaring “I Ate the Pope”, and even miniature Smiley Frank dolls, with detachable limbs oozing red ink. A perfect first communion gift!
Now, considering that Pope Frank is considering another trip soon to the Land of the Fee and the Home of the Depraved, this whole Chow Down on the Papal Crown plan should work out perfectly. After all, who’s more likely to cash in on a profitable commercial venture than your average American politician? And it's not as if Trump and Biden haven’t eaten people before!
Trust me, the thing will work. Even the soggy mess afterwards will present no problem to the Vatican Cleanup Crew, which has been getting rid of human remains for a hell of a long time.
So, there you have it, folks: a morally, theologically, and commercially winning plan. Eat the Pope, for your own good - and for his. And as someone so gosh-darned concerned about appearing to do the right thing, Mr. Bergoglio should be all in favor of his own devouring. After all, doesn’t your average priest want to be eaten?
But if the old Poop is adverse to the idea of dying for the sake of so many, it just goes to show you: you can’t trust an actor.
