February 02, 2005

DIE DIE MY DARLING

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I know it's incongruent to buddhochristian identify and wish that the pope cedes his seat and takes a long visit to his boss' house, but I do. I also know that the pope-job, it's like the little russian dolls, you get rid of the big one and there is an identical little one nestled right there - whomever is scheduled to bat after him is not likely to be much "better."

I spent the terrifying summer eon between 6th grade and jr. high living in Mexico City with my dad, who was then a bureau chief for the South and Central America desk of a major news wire. During my visit, the pope, he, too, came to visit Mexico City. My dad, he was an alterboy through all of his school years, back when they did the mass in Latin, and they did mass a couple times a day. His school photos at certain ages, feature his pudgey face'd framed between a high and tight buzzcut and a the pressed, floppy collar alterboy robe. Everything that makes moms proud in a heavily Catholic small town in Southern Indiana.

During his visit, the pope spoke to the masses, to the biggest city in the world, to a poor metropolis - at the time running 18 mil deep, very predominantly Catholixx. He showed up, rode around in the pope-mobile and waved his gilded septre and reminded people that birth control was a sin, and then took off into the night to do whatever it is aging pontiffs do. My dad came home from work, after covering it all for the newswire, and he swore in front of me, for the first time I can remember. He said something like "Motherfuck the pope! Fuck the fucking pope!" -- he was furious, and over dinner he explained to me the gravity of the papal irresponsibility that had just transpired. From then on, I hated the pope, too.

Most of my dad's family are still deep in the folds of catechism and The Purpose Driven Life , my grandma being the only one whose devotion is at all becoming. She has ever missed mass since she was four years old save for days spent in child birth and surgery. She talks about the lord with a moony reverence that would imply he's an old boyfriend of hers that she never got over. My aunt, I can only imagine what her prayers for me are like. With me living in the city, working within the liberal media, unmarried and childless at 28, raised by a thrice-divocred career mom, going to a church led by a gay pastor -- I bet I am on some perma-list for her congregation's prayer tree. On one of my last visits, I made mention of that my entire spiritual education as a child consisted of going to Unitarian service twice in 1988. She reacted as if I had just said "You know what I really love , Aunt Phylliss? Eating pussy."
"I think it's about time to call it a night," she said as she beat a hasty exit -- leaving me to show myself out. Not the same steez of cute-catholic as my grandma. No christian charity to be had.

So, with that, Pope, from all of us here at TinyLuckyGenius' Mufflers 4 Less -- to you there in yr golden domed home in Rome -- so long, farewell, auf Weidersehen, adieu .

Posted by Jessica at February 2, 2005 10:00 PM | TrackBack