‘God’ speakest to the Pope’s unholiness…
God: Well, Pope, of course, preying on the underage for sex, or for any reason, is wrong, and, as you tolerated it, even enabling it, you allowed it to continue, even for a long time. It is both what one does and doesn’t do that constitutes an action. I hereby damn you and all those involved to eternal fire.
Pope: But we all repented by saying the act of contrition, and so now all of our slates are clean.
God: Nope, Pope, for that’s just one of your made-up human rules, as well as the one about consensual adult sex not being for recreation but only for procreation.
Pope: Damn; I mean darn! if I have to burn forever, then, well, that’s it; but, are you saying that I can have sex?
God: Of course you can; find some sweetheart, of nun or another; for, your celibacy rule is complete nonsense—look at the Episcopals: they can marry and have kids and all that, for that is all totally natural. And how are your priests going to counsel families when they don’t have any familial experience of their own?
Pope: Ok, but really… is sex ok?
God: You numbskull; sex is natural, too, even for the unmarried—and stop sweating all this impure nakedness stuff. If I didn’t want people to be able to be naked then they would have been born with a lot more fur, or with clothes on.
Pope: Anyway, should I and all resign?
God: Yes; in fact, you are to be fired, literally; you are all a disgrace to all that’s holy.
Pope: But, you made us!
God: Hey, well, nobody’s perfect, but, hey, don’t forget: I’m the boss.
Pope: Ok, but you can’t fire me, for, I quit.
God: Good, you ignoramus. I’m hiring a team to take over, consisting of Sam Harris, Michael Shermer, Richard Dawkins, Victor Stenger, and more; for I am an atheist myself, for there ain’t any higher power that made me, that’s for sure.
Pope: How does one have sex?
God: Ah, a fine thing that question is; you makka da rules but never playya the game.
Pope: Are you Italian?
God: Is the Pope decent?
Pope: No, I am the scum of the earth.
God: What the hell were you thinking?
Pope: I wasn’t. So, how does sex go?
God: It comes and then it goes. Good luck.
Pope: Thanks; I’m going now—to light some candles. Drink some wine, ad get someone out of her habit.
God: Good plan, for that’s how I, Mister Right, found Miss Perfect.
Pope: You mean you have sex!
God: You dumbo; did you think that eternity could ensue from no paternity joining with maternity?
Pope: Oh.
God: Now get lost, you dingleberry, and if you’re pretty good from now on I’ll take a few trillion years off of your eternal sentence.
Pope: Thanks, I think…
God: Well, Pope, of course, preying on the underage for sex, or for any reason, is wrong, and, as you tolerated it, even enabling it, you allowed it to continue, even for a long time. It is both what one does and doesn’t do that constitutes an action. I hereby damn you and all those involved to eternal fire.
Pope: But we all repented by saying the act of contrition, and so now all of our slates are clean.
God: Nope, Pope, for that’s just one of your made-up human rules, as well as the one about consensual adult sex not being for recreation but only for procreation.
Pope: Damn; I mean darn! if I have to burn forever, then, well, that’s it; but, are you saying that I can have sex?
God: Of course you can; find some sweetheart, of nun or another; for, your celibacy rule is complete nonsense—look at the Episcopals: they can marry and have kids and all that, for that is all totally natural. And how are your priests going to counsel families when they don’t have any familial experience of their own?
Pope: Ok, but really… is sex ok?
God: You numbskull; sex is natural, too, even for the unmarried—and stop sweating all this impure nakedness stuff. If I didn’t want people to be able to be naked then they would have been born with a lot more fur, or with clothes on.
Pope: Anyway, should I and all resign?
God: Yes; in fact, you are to be fired, literally; you are all a disgrace to all that’s holy.
Pope: But, you made us!
God: Hey, well, nobody’s perfect, but, hey, don’t forget: I’m the boss.
Pope: Ok, but you can’t fire me, for, I quit.
God: Good, you ignoramus. I’m hiring a team to take over, consisting of Sam Harris, Michael Shermer, Richard Dawkins, Victor Stenger, and more; for I am an atheist myself, for there ain’t any higher power that made me, that’s for sure.
Pope: How does one have sex?
God: Ah, a fine thing that question is; you makka da rules but never playya the game.
Pope: Are you Italian?
God: Is the Pope decent?
Pope: No, I am the scum of the earth.
God: What the hell were you thinking?
Pope: I wasn’t. So, how does sex go?
God: It comes and then it goes. Good luck.
Pope: Thanks; I’m going now—to light some candles. Drink some wine, ad get someone out of her habit.
God: Good plan, for that’s how I, Mister Right, found Miss Perfect.
Pope: You mean you have sex!
God: You dumbo; did you think that eternity could ensue from no paternity joining with maternity?
Pope: Oh.
God: Now get lost, you dingleberry, and if you’re pretty good from now on I’ll take a few trillion years off of your eternal sentence.
Pope: Thanks, I think…
