See Ya In Hell

Now that Pope John Paul II has been laid out on a slab for public inspection, drawing the curtain on Act One of the Greatest Show On Earth, a piss-and-smoke break is warranted to decide if it’s worth staying for the rest of the show.

Act One brought us pronouncements upon the evils of war, the cruelty of poverty and the needlessness of famine; those are no-brainers that hardly qualify as bravado. Instead of posturing as Ebert & Roper to the productions of everyone else, the Pope could have been busy editing his own abysmal B movie. But he avoided the once-in-a-papal opportunity to immerse himself in a project over which he exerts creative control. He missed the chance to apologize to the world community for the time-honored culture of rogue, aberrant priests buggering little boys, thereby inflicting so much pain upon the flock. He could have mandated the washing of the shit from the collective dick of the Catholic Church and vowed to start anew. He could have chastised the club members who erected, in Catholic Church yards across the land, the shameful, mean-spirited and vindictive dead-baby crosses.

Preaching the sanctity of the unborn while violating the sanctity of the born is no way to run a Kool-Aid stand. Seems simple, but JP2 couldn’t muster the courage. For this cowardly omission, he can hardly be assigned a thumbs-up.

So now we await Act Two with bated breath. The conclavers melt into the occult mysticism of their pow-wow and send us smoke signals. The board of directors of Catholic Church, Inc. will anoint a new CEO to head the largest real estate conglomerate and political action committee on the face of the planet.

Act Three. Business as usual. Hide the children.