RED CARPET CONCLAVE

Greeting Hairballs,

This may offend some.  Try to find your sense of humor, I'm not anti-Pope.

The annual Oscars have come and gone and we watched as the glitterati preened for the cameras.

At the end of the evening everyone knew who won, who lost and the nominees could decide if they had wasted thousands only to perspire on dry clean only outfits or smile from the inside out as they took home their little gold statues.  No smoke, no mirrors, plenty of politics, but at the end of the night, everyone knew who was named best.

It’s a red carpet occasion again but this time at the Vatican. 

RED CARPET CONCLAVE (OR WHO WANTS TO BE POPE)©

         FMHorner

they’ve come from all over the world,

mostly over weight, cross-dressing old guys,

not a woman in sight unless she’s cleaning the place,

who years ago had taken vows of celibacy

(how’s that working for you?)

and vows of poverty or not

I suspect not given the finery

they preen and pose,

smiling for the cameras and

often have a quip for reporters

before rushing inside to join their compatriots,

all pretending the job is too lofty for them

while deep inside thinking

please let it be me

like the Oscars, there’s a display of glamour

unlike the Oscars, it’s same, same, same—

long back dresses with red piping

topped with a short cape

and red skull cap

all designed by Pious the Unimaginative

in the 12^th Century

the reporter for Fashionata Daily

was about to declare

Cardinal Liebowitz best dressed

until the interview when she

discovered he was an American tourist

on his way to meet his wife and

mother-in-law for lunch

what threw her was his choice

of clothing—very much in keeping

with standard Cardinal wear but modern—

black, two-piece designer jogging suit

with red stripes down the legs

Air Jordans

and a black yarmulke

Mr. Liebowitz was stunned that

he had been mistaken for a Cardinal,

especially since he isn’t Catholic.

he didn’t even know he was in St. Peter’s Square.

“I must have turned the wrong way

at Via Bumbalino,”

he said, wandering back the way he came

the Cardinals will be locked in to vote

with scores of servants catering to their needs.

they’ve been forbidden to tweet or text—

yes, somewhere buried in those

flowing gowns,  black for day and red for evening,

lurk cell phones—

the only sign of the 21^st Century

and, like any other special-interest group,
they’ll be blowing smoke

one if by land, sorry that was Paul Revere,

it’s black no Pope, white we have a Pope.

what a great reality show that would make—

“who wants to be Pope?”

start lining up the sponsors and find an MC

I hear Sarah Palin’s out of work.

Holy Hairballs,

f