I Wasn’t Chosen to Be the Pope. Someone’s Getting an Angry Letter.

C’mon, admit it. For just a second there after reading that title, you pictured me in the pointy hat, waving at the crowds of people from my Popemobile. I don’t care what you say, yes… you were thinking it.

And if it weren’t for all the stupid rules, I would have made an awesome Pope. Okay, so, I don’t exactly have a penis and I was never officially ordained as a cardinal. Or a priest. Or even a lowly church committee member. But that really shouldn’t matter. The Pope’s real job (apart from protecting the Catholics of the world from burning in hell for being blasphemous scoff laws at all the Biblical stuff) is just to be the “face of the Church.” Kind of like how Michael Jordan is the face of Hanes underwear: he’s athletic, he’s sexy, and he makes me think of panties when I see him.

Michael Jordan = sexy boy panties. Pope = wanting to speak in a hushed reverent voice and tithe.

I do have a really strong qualification that I bring to the table. Face it, the only reason all the heathens even know about the Pope is because of that rhetorical-yet-heretical question smart asses like to ask as a reply to something dumb: “Is the Pope Catholic?” And I totally am. No one ever gives the sarcastic reply, “Is the Pope a man?” or “Does the Pope pee standing up?” No. That would be wrong. You’re going to hell for even thinking it, you blasphemer.

I was really sad to find out that the Cardinal See disbanded and went home after they chose Pope Francis, because now it’s going to be a real pain to get them to come back together and hear my appeal. Of course, all I have to say is “free trip back to Italy for work-related all-expenses-paid purposes,” and they might come a-runnin’, long skirts flapping in the wind behind them.

Luckily, I’ve been doing a little research (okay, I bribed my 12-year-old with half a Twix bar to Google it) and I found out that throughout history, quite a number of people have simply declared themselves to be something important, like, two people might claim the same kingdom, or how there were actually a whole bunch of times that different people all claimed to be the Pope. Of course, it led to beheadings and stake-burnings, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take to get to ride in that big car.


Professional Executioner Is Off My Career Aptitude Test

Little known fact: not all beheadings go as planned. I already told you I’ve been watching the entire episode list of The Tudors on my iPad, mostly just because I can watch TV on my iPad and I really don’t like television so I had nothing else to watch.

There’s one episode in particular where Henry is beheading someone AGAIN (it’s a running plot line). The executioner had gotten drunk the night before and it took about three or four loppings before any real sizeable chunk of the head came off. Then someone else snatched the axe from the man’s hand and finished the victim off because the crowd of people who had turned out to watch the execution were starting to get upset and vomitty.

So tonight as I was nailing holes in the lid of a pickle jar for my daughter’s homework (yeah, they go to public school, how could you tell?) and it took me several tries on each nail just to make a dent in the flimsy metal lid, I thought, “I just don’t have the accuracy and upper body strength to destroy things for a living.” Luckily, the invention of the guillotine will save me from an unsatisfying workplace environment.

On a lighter note, I am extremely good at washing pickle jars, but I purposely left that part of my career aptitude test blank. No sense giving people the impression that I’m even willing to do housework, let alone good at it.