Walkin’ Down My Street

i survived the dinner
and the air went thinner
i retired to the briars by the pool
it gets so loud

This new pope, Francis, I think he might need to be taken into protective custody.

For something, I fear, has gone seriously wrong with the fellow. So much so, that, there in the church, they’re probably pretty sure they’re going to have to poison him.

We first understood he’d gone stone-mad when one of his sub-primates emerged from some yescatacomb to pronounce priestly celibacy and marriage-eschewing “tradition,” rather than dogma.

That means, the catacomber explained, that these things are not essential god-ordained ways to be a Catholic. But instead just something they do. And therefore they can change their minds about it, whenever they feel like it.

Then the pope himself, he suddenly roared out of the pope-hole, to give an interview in which he told Catholic primates, prelates, and random assorted lay-nimrods, that people—like them—“obsessed” with abortion, birth control, gay people, and the like, should just put a cork in it. He said that, in his popedom, he’s not going to talk about those things. Because they’re boring and trivial. And if people don’t like that, well, they can just bugger right off.

Finally, the new popeling, he seized the microphone, over at some radio station, to rant, correctly, that money is “the dung of the devil”:

Money sickens our minds, poisons our thoughts, even poisons our faith, leading us down the path of jealousy, quarrels, suspicion and conflict. It drives to idle words and pointless discussions.

We can never serve God and money at the same time. It is not possible: either one or the other. This is not Communism. It is the true Gospel! They are the Lord’s words.

Money begins by offering a sense of well-being. Then you feel important and vanity comes. This vanity is useless, but still you think you are important. And after vanity comes pride. Those are the three steps: wealth, vanity, and pride.

“But, Father, I read the Ten Commandments and they say nothing about the evils of money. Against which Commandment do you sin when you do something for money?” Against the first one! worshipYou worship a false idol. And this is the reason: because money becomes an idol and you worship it. And that’s why Jesus tells us that you cannot serve money and the living God: either one or the other.

The early Fathers of the Church, in the 3rd Century, around the year 200 or 300, put it in a very blunt way, calling money ‘the dung of the devil’. And so it is. Because it turns us idolatrous, fills our thoughts with pride, and leads us away from our faith.

Holy fuck! It was bad enough that the guy opened his yap to say no war in Syria. Not even the Big Hat during WWII said stop the war: in fact, that cretin got down on his knees and thanked god when the Nazis invaded the USSR, imploring the Big Guy In The Sky to grant the Germans “total victory.”

Why can’t this pope behave like that?

But no.

Not only does he say stop the bomb-rain, but now he’s on about money.

Clearly, something’s going to have to go into his soup.

But, even then, did he stop? No.

He next called up out of the blue an atheist, and said such persons—non-believers—are, not at all, all to the bad. That what is important is that each human “must choose to follow the good and fight evil as he conceives them.”

He then thundered that efforts to convert people to Christianity constitute “solemn nonsense,” and damned church leaders as “narcissists” who are “flattered and sickeningly excited by their courtiers.”

And the dude, continuing along like this, doesn’t even, so far as I know, have a food-taster.

Until this present nutter, the last evolved human to serve as pope was Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli, monikered John XXIII.

And the succeeding popes have since tried to write Roncalli out of existence. Because he said shit like women are  humans, and admitted the Church had gone utterly wild, over 2000 years, foaming to kill Jews.

But now, this new pope, Francis, continuing to run completely amok, has decreed that Roncalli shall be elevated to sainthood . . . even though only one miracle may be ascribed to his name. And the Sainthood Rules of the church command there must be two miracles. Before one may be proclaimed a saint.

But Francis, the honey badger, he don’t care. “Bugger the rules!” he ejaculated. “The motherfucker’s a saint!”

It’s been a long and wintry season. Catholicism in exile. While the prelates, primates, and potentates, ran various and sundry forms of Nazis, in and out of the big hat, what it isover the past 50 years. During which time the Church has survived, as has been true through much of its history, mostly through the wild and high Irish.

The true Catholic Church, from the death of John XXIII, to the advent of Francis, has dwelt in such personages as Van Morrison, Marianne Faithful, and Sinead O’Connor. Who, through their music, have continued to spread the good word.

Which is, at root: Eros.

In the true-life documentary film Minority Report, an adept who could not help but know and feel fellow humans, and even see, what they would be, is, in the end, retired to a farmhouse, at the edge of the sea.

So she would there no longer be barraged. By the all and every.

This, where, I think, Francis, at present, may soon need to go.

Van Morrison, has, already, for the past 20 years, occupied just such a place. And has run in and out of the joint, according to their need, such adepts as Sinead O’Connor and Marianne Faithfull.

Francis’ turn, maybe, soon, now.

At least so long until we can be sure that, residence in the Vatican, will not prematurely lay him on a slab.

 

 

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