A special message for the recently dead
Hi folks. Sorry I haven't been around, but you know how it is, one minute you're vacationing in hell, the next minute it's several months later and you can't seem to account for where all the time has gone.
What was hell like, you ask? At the risk of being too cute by half, I just have to say that it was a hell of a bender. What was it really like? Ever been to Buffalo NY? Imagine it a lot hotter and not quite as smelly. No but really, what was hell like? Now, now, chances are you'll know soon enough.
Anyways, I've been home, or more accurately, pseudo-home back in purgatory for a few months now, but I just haven't been inspired to write anything. I've barely been inspired to get my ass off the couch, truth be told. But with the recent news of the Pope's death, well let's just say that schadenfreude beats lethargy hands down. And with that, I'd like to address the rest of this post to his Holiness, ex-Pope John Paul II.
Hiya there, Holiness. Getting settled in? I hear they're giving you the red carpet treatment. Good, good. You know, Johnny... you don't mind if I call you "Johnny", do you? Last time we met, years ago, you asked me to call you "Johnny". You also asked me to "back the fuck off" with the good works and all because it was crimping your style as the holiest being on the planet.
But I digress. I was going to say, Johnny, that we may have had our differences in the past. But that's all water over the bridge, eh? We're both dead and will be for all of eternity, with nothing but our press clippings to look back upon. And whatever perks we can finagle to look forward to. Speaking of which, I hear that they gave you my old place up there. Sure is a nice view, isn't it? I hear you've redecorated, and chucked all my plants.
No, no, I'm not bitter. Far from it. Why? Because I can always take comfort in the knowledge that my headline-stealing dead bulimic was a celebrity. A well-loved celebrity. Hell, she was royalty. Did you hear that, Holiness? ROYALTY! Not some dumbass cracker nobody with a feeding tube, nosiree. Put that in your censer and smoke it, you bastard!