Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m almost pathetically grateful for a pontiff who

1)    speaks like a regular, intelligent, in-touch-with-reality human (always bearing in mind that my standards in this regard are dismally low);

2)    gets under the skin of the right-wing generally, and the American GOP in particular, by displaying even the merest flicker of empathy and engaging in dialogue about hi-falutin’ concepts such as “equality” and “economics”;

3)  however imperfectly, does his best to avoid the words “abomination”, “Gomorrah” and “ catamite” when directly addressing me.

So, Francis, know that my lustful heart bleeds a little faster under my surplice and cassock because of  your sympathetic stance.

But I’d be a tad more convinced of your sincerity if the picture didn’t show you standing in a mausoleum studded with precious stones and enhanced with five acres of gold leaf.  Not to mention that “Balenciaga” label at the back of your robe.

I’m just sayin’.