A great big Hail Mary, Hello Alice to all my flock of gay dudes, lesbian dudettes and those who have not yet found The Way, The Truth and The Lifestyle™! This is Big Gay Pope David, your “host with the most Host”! ™
You didn’t hear? Well, yes indeed, my fine feathered friends, and in case you missed the smoke signals, I’ve just elected myself Big Gay Pope, which can only mean one thing –
I’ve spent the last twelve hours at The Golden Griddle, blowin’ a few Hallelujah clouds of glory with Francine and some of the other local trannies while we brainstorm best practices for framing apologies, re-framing our prejudices and winning back the trust of “The Gays”.
Don’t you just go all shivery when I call us that?! “The Gays”. Admit it!
You may be wondering about certain impediments to my being Pope. Oh ye of little faith!. Yes, it’s true, I am a practising homosexual. But Francine (BFF!!! ♥) says that’s OK – I just have to keep practising and practising until I get it right!!!
Kidding!!! LOL !!! Big Hugs ♥!! Love you guys!!! In a Big Gay Pope-y way of course!
And guess what else? Shhh!!! Secret!!! Francine says the apology portfolio is mine! So me and that annoying dove that keeps flapping around, you know, with the circle of gold rays emanating from its head, we’re gonna get that apology bit between our teeth and knock it right outta the ballpark!
Oh lord, I beseech thee – heal my metaphors!
Kidding!! Love you guys!! Big kiss, no tongue!!!
But first, a couple of urgent, as opposed to important, tasks – top priority is whipping my hand-picked team of luscious half-naked lavoratori into shape as they slap some cheerful Debbie Travis pastels on that, and pardon my French, but, totally OTT, fucked-up Sistine Chapel ceiling.
Sistine Chapel! As Francine likes to say, “Oi ve voy!!” which is Latin for “talk about gloomy!”.
You know, here at the Palace of Popery it’s all S & M, all the time, but hey, Vatican – change your pace, no disgrace! How about a little gnocchi-naughtiness for us vanilla girls? Seriously?? After all, you know what they say:
“The religious classes
avoid those masses
where all they can see is
It took a bit of convincing, but after a heated brainstorm with Joshua bar Joseph I chose ‘Crucifixion’ Chartreuse edged with ‘Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me’ White. So when the ceiling’s done, and Debbie says it’s gonna need at least three or four coats, there’s the swag curtains – I’m thinking moss or maybe taupe – some “faithful flock” wallpaper, and a disco ball, obviously, for a little altar–native – geddit – nostalgia!
I tell ya, once my Intelligent Redesign is complete, this place is gonna scream ‘devout-yet-cheerful’ from here to Des Moines!
The second task is spritzing a little spiritual Agent Orange worldwide to completely defoliate all that shrubby homophobia, ’cause I’m sorry to have to tell ya, but those friggin’ Evangelical Protestants are at it again.
Evangelicals!! Not a flicker of humor in a clapboard chapel full of you! Church-going isn’t supposed to be like attending the annual reunion of the Hillary for President campaign, you hear what I’m saying?
Methodists! Oi ve voy!! Hillary’s the kind of girl who’d sit in Grade 9 biology class with a box of tissues on her desk, vivisecting a frog with one hand and blowing her nose with the other, and telling everyone to shush. It didn’t work then, and it didn’t work now!
All good practice for freshman year at college, when she entered the charity swimsuit competition then spent an hour in the Green Room sitting on a wicker chair! Downersville!
Which is just your li’l freckle-faced Big Gay Pope rascal gently suggesting to Evangelicals—take a tip from us Cat-lickers, have a little confidence – pizzazz, even! – and think Broadway musical!
You know, and could I just say, but really. How about some clouds of incense, or a few of those plastic Jesus statues that wink at you – a couplea nuns with guitars – turn some Wonder Bread into the Body of Christ, make it live up to its name! Up your game a little!
I say this with love, which gives me just the tiniest stirring of a woody, because maybe- and don’t get upset – but maybe with a bit of quality distraction you wouldn’t, like—get all full of yourselves and start imagining people were taking you seriously.
There, I said it. I mean, I’m sorry, and as Big Gay Pope I should probably soften the blow. But hey.
Anyway, there I was, reading Francine’s piece on MSN, about how gay people are finally going to get some apologies, and maybe a box of Laura Secord “Turtles” and a Metropass – fingers crossed!! – for all of the thousands of years of genocide and persecution and hypocrisy and child abuse and unspeakable torture and all that.
You know, “Catholic Outreach”.
And I was getting in the groove, thinking about how I might actually travel north of Bloor Street now, and then I saw them – not just Protestants –
Twat-estants! Evangelicals! With their Lakes of Fire and their “One Way” and, well, just listen to our wee Scottish-ly-named homophobe Charles here:
“The end of days is closer than you think… and as the Pope, you are wrong to ask forgiveness of Gays. Do you think that God will be a forgiving God. Maybe you should read the Bible again.”
Would you get a load of that! Telling the Pope to read the Bible! I called Francine right away on her hotline to tell her, and she was like, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
So there was nothing for it but to roll up my hand-embroidered Balenciaga sleeves and compose my very first encyclical – that’s Big Gay Pope for “bitchslap” – and in fluent Scottish, so Charles will be sure to understand! – Miracolo! miracolo! – Thanks, annoying dove with the circle of gold rays!
June 28th, Year One
The Big Gay Pope David His First Encyclical
Signed, sealed and bitch-slapped from the
Ruby-Encrusted Honeymoon Suite of the Blessed Jacuzzi
To Charlene and all my overly earnest sad-sack flock
I, His Royal Majesty Big Gay Pope David is moved by the annoying dove with the circle of gold rays to speak to ye – and if ye’re too Protestant to get me drift, it’s like, I’m not just “la crème de la crème”, I’m Miss Jean fuckin’ Brodie herself, OK? –
I hereby exhort ye all
to prick up those ears, cause the Communion wine is startin’ to wear off and I’m losin’ me Job-like patience!
This is a matter of extreme urgency, which is why I decided not to just text you “Sup dude?” from the blessed jacuzzi, but to write to you on priceless vellum with a real quill pen, and what’s more, I “Nair”‘d me legs. That alone should tell ye something!
I’m just gettin’ the feel for this pontiff-y stuff – and to tell you god’s truth the robes are startin’ to ride up me crack – so forgive me if I’m blunter than a pair of lamb shears on Maundy Thursday, but Christ Almighty, lad!
I just read yer post on MSN and I have to tell ye, yer makin’ me all nervy with yer dour tone and yer evangelical ways, angry god this and brimstone that, and tellin’ me to read the Bible!
Well it’s a serviceable book, I grant ye, but yer takin’ it so close I’m beginnin’ to think you want me wee job!
Now I’m only going to pontificate this once: Take that oatcake out o’ yer arse if ye can manage to find it, let yer soul flounce out of it’s dark hidin’ place and – speakin’ now not as a Big Gay Pope, but as bonny lad to bonny lad – flip up yer sporran, waggle yer haggis and have a wee bit o’ fun with the boys afore ye croak, hen!
By the hairy balls o’ Christ, Charlie, it’s all a big fuckin’ leg-pull!
There, now I hope yer feelin’ a bit more pastoral and all that. If ye be needin’ a prayer or a votive candle with a picture of me and Jesus on it, or just something tasteful for the home like a refurbished choirboy, be in touch with the Vatican adoption services gift shop. You’ll be glad ye did once the cold winter nights close in on those bloody Hebrides!
Hail, Mary! Pope David loves ye! Big kiss, no tongue! LOL!!
Salvatore ferragamo genoa via roma ..
Salvatore ferragamo genoa via roma …