Ich Bin Ein Pope!

The smoke was finally white; the bells were ringy. As the Chilean cardinal emerged from the curtains, he prepared himself to announce the identity of the new leader of the Catholic world. Presumably, he summons the excitable Vatican crowd with a, “Let’s get ready to Rummmmbbbbblle!!!!” In Latin, of course. “Blah blah blah Latincakes, brothers and sisters, blah blah, RATZINGER!!!” That right, from the same place that brought us the dramatic stylings of sauerkraut, Hasselhoff hysteria fandom and World Wars One and Two comes the latest Shepherd of Christ. He has taken the name Benedict XVI, combining his (and my) favorite egg friendly breakfast dish and his jersey number from his days of yore on the soccer field. Oh, and he may or may not have had involvement with the Nazi Party. Bratwurst and Beer for everyone!

Good news for old people, advocates of the rhythm method and other old people.

Bad news for women, gays, minorities, the AIDS-ravaged continent of Africa, and those hoping for an exciting step forward for the Catholic Church.

Though I am psyched for my people, the Germans, I have to tell you, I was rooting for the Honduran. Predictably. I mean, he plays piano, speaks like 8 languages and is friends with Bono. Seems like a no-brainer.

If you need someone to take with you to Nouvo Papa Festa, you should check this out. It's remarkably disturbing and therefore hysterical.