July 13th, 2000
The Incredible Pope vs. Marching Gays - "Homoerotic Hijinks!"

Part One: A Spoiled Jubilee:

Sometimes you have to stand up for what you believe in. Sometimes you have to dare the world to understand you. And sometimes you just want to march down the street because you're excited about who you want to have sex with. That's when gay parades get started. Thousands of proud gays marched down St. Peter's Square in Rome this week, and it pissed the Pope off.

To make it more clear, John Paul expressed what he called "bitterness for the insult" of having the festival "during the grand Jubilee of the year 2000." I might not have to point out that for someone who hates gays, "Jubilee" is a pretty fancy way to say "party."

Pope, I know you guys invented Jesus exactly 2000 years ago so we'd stop having sex, and that's a great reason for the gays to take a year off from their sexuality and Jubilize with you. But they're as gay as they were last year and might even be gayer in 2001. Speaking of which, the Homosexual vs. Catholic war is only going to get worse then. In 2001, the Catholics are going to demand another year off from homobutt-humping to celebrate the 1500th anniversary of the first man tortured to death for calling the Earth round, while the gays are going to demand the Catholics take a year off from praying to honor the grand Jubilee celebrating the anniversary of the first time a guy got a hard on in the locker room.

The Pope was especially mad about "the offense to Christian values in a city that is so dear to the heart of Catholics all over the world." John Paul Jr. thinks his backyard is bigger than it is. All the years of riding in the Super Popecar from church to church with everyone wearing plastic virgin Maries around their necks have given him the idea that the whole world is following instructions from the Catholics. He might not realize that 90 percent of the world ignore the Catholics until they need help melting a vampire. They don't fucking care what city they're in, they're going to put their penises where they want. If God really didn't want people to be gay, he'd have given everyone extra tiny assholes with teeth. So take it easy, Pope. If your security guards start blowing each other in the Vatican, scream at them all you want. But don't tell the people outside who they can hump. What are you going to do next, scream down at your neighbor, "You can't smoke in here! And take your shoes off while you're only a house away from my carpet!"

I have to give John Paul a break, though. Think about how bitter he must be growing up with a name like "Pope." It wouldn't have even taken a first grader to spot that that's like one letter away from "poop." He'd be as ostracized as the kid named Weenis and his friend Bagina. Maybe I should be a little more understanding to the Pope and other people whose names are really close to the names for our bodies' waste and genitalia.

Here, two gay pride marchers dress like priests since their fireman and policeman costumes are at the dry cleaners. On the left, the man has brought a picture from a calendar as an example of the kind of person he would be proud to be gay with. On the right, Antonio Banderas seems to be saying, "You thought Zorro couldn't look any gayer? I'll show you SERIOUS gay, fuckers."

For security reasons, this remote-controlled corpse is used to stand in for the Pope during public appearances. The lookalike was purchased from cadaver reanimator, Dr. Fritz Loonmangler, who originally built it for much darker and more erotic purposes.

"Hi! I'm Zippy from the Star Patrol! Maybe the Pope hates gays! But he loves the air-popped lard enriched taste of Cheetos! That's why Cheetos brand cheese powder flavored snack puffs are the proud recipient of..."

Rocket! Into... Space! With Cheetos!

Part Two: A Message to the Pope:
You know, John Paul, I think they're just trying to piss you off. Why else would you have a gay parade? "Look at me! I hump butts instead of vaginas! Sometimes I wear lipstick! Look! Hey! I even have a little scarf on! Woo-hoo!" That's ridiculous. No one in their right mind would hold a parade celebrating who they're attracted to. They're doing it because they know it makes your arthritic hands clench around your crazy Skeletor Power Sceptre. If you want them to stop marching around, ignore them. Go back to Columbo or Bingo or whatever 250 year old people do when they're not complaining.

Straight people don't march in parades where they hold up pictures of Pamela Anderson. "We want to sleep with her! And we're proud of it!" And married people don't march down the street announcing how proud they are to be fucking their wives. Should people in a committed relationship with girls named Lisa be called "Lisasexuals" and hold parades? No. Gay parades are a mystery. They're probably just the runoff from protest marches that didn't have room for any more people. Or maybe gay people are insane. It could explain why they dress like women and lip synch Madonna songs. Maybe the Pope doesn't like them because he got sick of Ray of Light. Maybe a gay guy bought the flowing white dress he had his holy eye on. Yeah, John Paul, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you're wearing a damn dress, dude. That's pretty fruity.

Part Three Point Five: Religious Epiphany
As if anyone needed help, the entire situation sort of proves there's no God. If you talk to God and He tells you He hates these gay people, would they have a chance of getting you mad? They're going to spend the next infinity years in a pit of napalm getting their skin boiled off. Here: let me explain this better:

Have you ever seen the smile on Jackie Chan's face when he's fighting Big Boss on top of a train and sees a tunnel coming at the back of Big Boss' head at 80 miles per hour? Everything he had against Big Boss is gone as soon as Jackie's sure the mountain is going to turn his evil head into paste. And that's just a head wound. The Pope looks down at those marching gays and knows they're going to hell. An eternity in hell makes a head wound look like an arm wound or even an arm wound with a band-aid already on it. If there really was a God and the Pope had His number, you couldn't piss Pope off. You could walk up, kick him in the balls, pull his dress over his face, shit in his hat, and he would just laugh back at you, "Oh man. You better enjoy this, buddy. Because in about 20 years, things are going to get a lot less fun. You like barbecues? Here, shit in my hat some more. God's going to get a kick out out of it when I call Him tonight."

You gave them their chance, John Paul. You wrote all your rules down in a big book, and it's the best selling book in the world. If people still aren't paying attention to it, throwing a temper tantrum about how they're spoiling your birthday party isn't going to get them to care about it now. People are a little savvier today than those plague victims in the dark ages. They don't believe everything crotchety people scream at them no matter how high the thing they're standing on is. The gays have figured out your shaking mummy fist is about as bad as it's going to get. Unless you really want them to believe you wrote Satan a letter that said, "Hey, turn off your oven. I gave the homos a little talk, and I think they've been punished enough."

As a service to future parades, here is a non-gay, but very fat woman showing the proper way to march.

In Pope related music news, if you see Abba Patar in the record store, don't buy it. It is the worst Abba CD ever. And don't ask me why they put Sting on the front of it.

Some of the songs sound sweet and sexy at first like VERBUM CARO FACTUM EST (The Word Became Flesh) and VIENI, SANTO SPIRITO (Come Holy Spirit Come). But ultimately they left a disgusting taste in your mouth like creamy caramel rhythms dipped in milk chocolate shame. Most of the album is made up of a zombie (or zombies) moaning in Italian to very slow, very bad music. Even gay people couldn't dance to this. Album rating: 0 out of 278.

The battle continues...
on to parts 3 and 4

(Understanding the Gays and the Final Showdown)
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