I mean it. Really. There will be jokes. About the Pope. And if you’re mourning, or think it’s too soon to joke, or have just lost your sense of humor altogether, you might want to go read something else.
The Pope’s dead. He died.
Now, I’m not Catholic, and I have no particular attachment to the Pope. I mean, yes, he was a good man, blah blah blah, and I was briefly saddened when I heard of his death. But I reacted about the same way I did when I heard Bob Hope had passed away. Oh, no. That’s sad. He was such a good man. And then I moved on.
The media, however, has chosen not to move on. And, apparently, nothing else has happened in the world since the Pope died. The local news Saturday night was All About the Pope. By the time they reached the first commercial break, ten minutes into the program, they had talked about nothing but the Pope, and were promising more news about the Pope’s passing after the break.
All day Sunday it was the same thing. Every news program, every update.
The Pope died.
Oh, and did you know the Pope’s dead?
And let’s get the reaction from random people on the street, because, after all, that’s what the People want, right?
Mother-in-law and I got so tired of the all Dead Pope news, that we resorted to silliness, calling each other and saying, “You know what?” “What?” “The Pope died!” “WHAT?!? You’re kidding me.”
We spent an hour chatting on the phone Sunday, and, after we hung up, I immediately called her back and said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you something…” Without missing a beat, Mother-in-law responded, “The Pope died!” Whereupon we both fell into fits of giggles.
Father-in-law, however, moved on even more quickly and has already devised a fool-proof plan for choosing the next Pope.
Now, here’s where things get a little, um, disrespectful; so consider this your warning, and please don’t leave me any nasty comments.
Father-in-law’s clever plan for Pope selection:
1. Line up all the potential Pope candidates.
2. Tie bells to their man bits.
3. Run a naked altar boy run in front of them.
4. If their ding-dong goes ding-dong, they’re out of the running.
Oh, dear. I think maybe I’d better go say some Hail Marys or rub some rosarie beads or something. That was, indeed, disrespectful, and probably totally out of line.
‘Cause, you know. The Pope. He’s dead.