* meets the Pope.

P: You’re late.
B: Sorry, Pope, they had a photo-op outside the Vatican, and its such a beautiful day.
P: They have taken your picture? Here? On disk or film? I warned those fascist paparazzi.
B: Pope, are there any blacks in the Vatican?
P: Why do you ask, angel of death?
B: Uh, Pope, because I want them, and your regular Itralian bishops to pass the word to both black and white bishops back home that they need to push for my programs. I want to eliminate homo marriage, prohibit stem-cell research and fight pro-choice. I need your help. It’s an election year, you know.
P: But what about the hundreds of thousands of Iraqi children killed, and the many innocents tortured by your prison officials? Shouldn’t I in fairness also tell our bishops to avoid supporting you because of these crimes against humanity?
B: But Pope, Saddam gassed his own people, he was a threat to the world, I wanted to see the mission accomplished. Any information we could get would be useful. After all, this is an unending war against evil.
P: Do you speak to God?
B: Every day, Pope.
P: Really? So do I. And I must tell you what He has said to me.
B: What’s that?
P: That your mission on earth is about to come to an end. That you are the anti-Christ.
And I must tell you that you will be destroyed and doomed to eternal hell for the horrors you have wrought on the people of the world.
B: But Pope, you cannot be serious. I have pledged my life to Christ.
P: You cannot expect that I will believe your lies. No one else does. Surely, I won’t.
B: But Pope, I need the Catholic vote; I already have the fundies.
P: Go handle snakes. Ashcroft can show you. As you are a serpent yourself, you will have nothing to fear from coddling them.
B: But Pope…
P: Begone, devil. Get out of my house. And get out of Gore’s house.

TIA