“What would I do if I were pope?” It’s a question we’ve all wrestled with at one point or another. After a night of intense psalm singing or after some particularly heavy Bible study, my friends and I often unwind with some sugar-free Kool-Aid and Teddy Grahams and kick the question around, wondering aloud what we would do if we were elected pope by God and his Supreme Court of Angels.
Of course, I never thought I had a chance to actually become pope, seeing as I’m not exactly Catholic, and also because I’m gay and had an abortion back when I was a woman (it was for charity). But with Pope John Paul II on the short bus to hell, I thought I might as well write down my own list of policies and initiatives to undertake if I were to become pope, in case there are any cardinals out there who want to take a chance on a plucky young upstart to lead their church. So if I were pope, I would:
Use my powers for good, not evil.
Officially change the pope’s theme song to AC/DC’s “Back in Black.”
Vatican City Theme Park (motto: Ride the Resurrection!) with rides like Lazarus’ Haunted House and the Golgotha Plunge. Molested altar boys get in for free on Tuesdays with visible signs of abuse.
Get around to releasing my 300-page, Biblically-supported manifesto that explains how gay, Jewish, female, secular, divorced stem cells mock the family and are an abomination. Remember not to mention that they taste great on toast. I’d also release Vatican approved scientific pamphlets debunking such secular humanist myths as evolution, geology, and the origins of the cosmos. Not to mention all those findings detailing the link between the spread of AIDS and insufficient tithing in church.
Finally finish rebuilding the papal franchise into a respectable team that actually has a shot at making the NCAA playoffs for once. The last time the Vatican had a team with a solid defense and tight passing was back in the day of power forward St. Ignatius “Chocolate Thunder” Antioch.
Bring the Catholic Church back to its roots with a couple of kick-ass crusades. Nothing to get the blood of the righteous pumping again like a holy war perpetrated against … well, anyone. Now I’m not going to say when or where, but watch your back, Australia.
I’d finally move out of my older brother Jake’s room and get a place of my own. It’d be in the basement and it would be awesome, ‘cuz I’d have a sweet stereo system, and beads hanging in the doorway, and my posters wherever I wanted them ‘cuz I’d be pope and you couldn’t stop me, Mom. Gaaaawwwd.
Excommunicate the shit out of Cardinal Antonetti Lorenzo. He knows why. Asshole.
I’ve got two words for the pope mobile: Pussy Wagon.
Release album of all my favorite psalms, as remixed by the Neptunes and Timbaland. A separate DFA remix album of Gregorian Chant dance singles would also be made available, with contributions by DJ Jazzy Gentile and Ol’ Dirty Bishop.
Get around to revising the Bible, and take out all the stuff that’s contradictory, morally suspect, or doesn’t allow for a radical right-wing fundamentalist interpretation. Issue new Bible in the form of a placemat. I mean, I’m pretty sure that when Jesus was talking about his conception of an egalitarian proto-socialist morality in which good works were to be their own riches and the accumulation of material goods a detriment to salvation, he was probably kidding.
Canonize some people I think are worthy of sainthood, like Frank Black (for his work with the Catholics), John F. Kennedy (for taking one for the team), Miles Davis (probably not a Catholic, but I think his track-mark stigmata qualifies him), Hunter S. Thompson (to replace Saint Thomas) and one of the Olsen Twins (the cute one, not the fat one).
Reverse 1894 papal edict stating that it is immoral to go bow-hunting for deer using flaming arrows, but don’t touch 1889 papal edict encouraging use of lit arrows on atheists.
Change the official communion food from bread and wine to the slightly less symbolic but much more delicious Hostess Twinkies and chocolate milk. “This is my spongy, golden-brown cream-filled body, broken for you and for many, for the forgiveness of sins … “
Punch a dolphin. Not exactly religious in nature, but I just think it would be cool. I mean, how satisfying would it be to feel your fist sink into their muscled side and hear that ‘eeeehha’ of pain. Just imagining it is enough to give me impure thoughts.
Vehemently denounce gay marriage (public). Get me some sweet altar-boy lovin’ (private).
Get married.
Ascend straight to heaven in a hot pink 1957 Cadillac El Dorado with gold trim and enough tail in the backseat to keep the hydraulics working overtime all the way to the pearly gates.
