Pope Corpse:
Man, the Rude Pundit can't get enough Pope corpse news. He wants to know everything about that holy body, now laying in St. Peter's Basilica where tens of thousands of people will able to say, with tears, "I saw a Pope corpse." The Rude Pundit wants to see that corpse over and over on the news, with its horrible death grimace forever Parkinsoned into its face. It was awesome enough when the Pope death watch occupied the cable news networks non-stop: the Rude Pundit kept a list of organs to check off as each one failed. Holy Christ, and what could be better than hearing about each and every fluid in the Pope's failing near-corpse, as his urine got all fucked up and his blood and just imagine what else. But, shit, that was nothing compared to the Pope corpse coverage. The Rude Pundit doesn't want to hear about fuck-all else: no damn Abu Ghraib attack, no damn Tom DeLay-is-evil bullshit, and certainly not a fuckin' word about the WMD intelligence report that says we're all fucked. Who the hell needs that? Don't harsh the Rude Pundit's Pope corpse buzz.

No, that's all noise, man, it's all bullshit, it's doin' nothin' but gettin' in the way of hearing over and over and over and over and over what a great fuckin' Pope corpse this is, how we all love the Pope corpse. How the Pope corpse chased away the Commies, how the Pope corpse loved all the brown people. Fuck, man, can't we send the Pope corpse on a world tour? Can't we mummify that fucker and let it visit every fuckin' country the living Pope visited and even the ones he didn't get to? Aw, shit, it'd be amazing: hourly updates of the Pope corpse's time in Tanzania or Ecuador. Goddamn, how the natives would be thrilled to have a Pope corpse there. C'mon, Rome, don't bogart the Pope corpse.

Matter of fact, the Rude Pundit wants the Pope corpse to be re-animated, to become the zombie Pope, going on a rampage, eating the brains of abortion providers, homosexuals, and warmongers, because the Pope's approach to the "culture of life" was so fuckin' consistent, man, it was so steady, bein' against genocide and contraception. Opposin' the Iraq War and women priests. Shit, we all read what we want into the Pope corpse, taking the good with the bad, but, oh, man, the zombie Pope'll show us all what's what. He'll be eatin' some fuckin' flesh, man, that's what a zombie Pope'd do - enough of those dry, tasteless eucharists - let's get real and juicy here. He is risen.

And when we finally capture the zombie Pope and put him in the ground, the Rude Pundit wants a twenty-four hour a day Pope corpse-cam in that tomb, so we can all watch the Pope corpse rot on a special CNN channel called "Watch the Rotting Corpse of the Pope." And it won't just be the decaying flesh of the Pope corpse on the channel - no, it'll be nonstop people tellin' us all how wonderful the Pope corpse is, how to this day the Pope corpse still inspires them by never giving up, rotting so gallantly in front of us to teach us all the mysteries of dying and, well, fuck, rotting.

Yes, sir, nothin' else matters when there's a Pope corpse around. Don't let that fucker rest in peace.

Extra: The Rude Pundit's Favorite Conversation He Ever Had Related to the Pope:
The Rude Pundit's lover in the late 1980s had an intensely Catholic sister. She was in high school still. One day she comes into the house and announces to the Rude Pundit and said lover, "I just got the tape of Tony Melendez, that singer who performed for the Pope. He's the one who doesn't have any arms."

"The one who plays with his toes?" The Rude Pundit asked, fondly remembering the sight of Melendez, eyes closed, pluckin' that fuckin' acoustic for all he was worth with his toes. And how Melendez sobbed when John Paul kissed his head after he was done. Such miracles - a boy who can play guitar with his toes. "Is he blind, too?"

"No," said the sister. "I don't think so." And she put on the cassette. The parents of the sister and the lover gathered around, the mother powerfully moved by Melendez's vocal stylings and, of course, the toe pluckin'. Who wouldn't be? The sister asked the Rude Pundit, "What do you think?"

"It's okay," said the Rude Pundit.

"He's playing with his toes."

"So?"

"So you don't like it," she said, getting all teenage girl pouty. "You can't even play the guitar. He's playing it with his toes."

"We should forgive his playing because of the freak factor? If he sucks, he sucks, and who gives a damn how many limbs he has."

"But he played for the Pope."

"Sucks for the Pope. It's America. You'd think there'd be a better armless Catholic guitar player somewhere around here."