Elizabeth, Queen of England; Pope Benedict, Queen


So. Coincidence being what it is, after several days of me venting my spleen at the Holy Roman Catholic Church, up pops the Pope. I’m sitting at my breakfast table out to the ranch, eating my multi-grain muffin, reading the paper and half-assed watching Good Morning America from the corner of my eye.

What with all of my butt problems, I’m eating a super fiber-rich diet. I still use real butter on my muffins though. I’ll never give up real butter. Or half-and-half. Super strong coffee with half-and-half.

The images on the TV captured my attention because they looked familiar. I went to a drag queen show a few weeks back, and I had a blast. Some of those ladies crack me up. My favorites are the impersonators, like Madonna, Cher, Katie Couric and Queen Elizabeth.

It was my memory of the hilarious Queenie E skit, performed by Ms. Louie/Louise Laramie, that dragged my eyes off the Op Ed pages to the TV. At first, I thought they were playing film from the DQ show I saw. Here was the impersonator dressed all frumpy, carrying that huge Queen Elizabeth purse and wearing the Queen’s public expression. And Louie/Louise’s Pope character- that of a frumpy old queen in a frilly gown with multiple layered skirts, stooped with the weight of all the religious jewelry around his neck.

And wearing the same Queen’s facial pose. I’m thinking to myself, I thought, “Old Louie/Louise has got himself a longterm gig with this act.

You guys know the Queen’s expression, right? That’s the one where she practices her look by tying a half lemon to a string, and puts the lemon into her mouth. She then swallows the string and has a servant slowly pull the lemon out of her ass by the string.

I love that look of dignified indignity. That look says, “I’m the Queen, I’m bored, and you are a fucking commoner. When will you go away?”

Anyway, the Queen impersonator was on the TV, dressed as the Queen and greeting himself dressed as the Pope. I figured it was one of those Photo-shopped dealies that TV technicians can do. You know, like back with Bewitched when the good witch, Samantha, would be talking to herself, the bad witch, Agatha. Darrin, the husband, would be in a suspended animation jungle scene about to be eaten by a lion. His fate would be determined by whichever witch had better powers.

Except things are so much more sophisticated in TV Land now that you can’t see any screwed-up pixels, or any fuzzy lines between the characters. At first view, I thought somebody had done a masterful job transplanting the two images together. It was so lifelike the way the two half-dead acting characters interacted.

Fake grimaces, rubber-fish handshakes, molded plaster faces. Me, I’m patting the L/L on the back and wondering who does his makeup.

Then, I hear George Stepanopoulis say, “ … blah, blah, blah.., the Pope’s visit with the Queen marks the first time, blah, blah and blah.”

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed as I jumped from my seat to point at the TV screen. “That’s the actual Queen and Pope!”

Gram spit her grapefruit juice in a spray across the table, and Mother almost fainted at my outburst. “What inna shit is wrong with you, Mooner. I done spittered my juicie all to hell an back.”

“That’s not Louie/Louise doing the Pope and the Queen, Gram, that’s the fucking Pope and the fucking Queen!” I told them. “Holy fucking shit! They’re twins!”

“Who gives a shit, Mooner. We all know tha Pope issa queen. Now sit down an finish yer mufflers afore yer mother has a corny rarie.”

The Pope is the twin of the Queen of England. If not, there’s two strings of non-maternal, identical DNA floating around out there, and that is a statistical impossibility. OK, it’s possible, but excessively not probable.

Then I got to thinking about how the Pope dresses. I commented the other day about the Catholic clergy’s elegant robed attire, and how they should disrobe and come out of the Dark Ages. Looking at the Popester on TV, it dawned on me that the higher a guy’s rank, the more elaborate his costume. Like the difference between how Friar Tuck is dressed compared to La Pope.

Look, I know Friar Tuck was likely a Church of England guy and not Catholic. But you get my driftings. But looking at the Queen and the Pope on TV reminded me of when I saw Cher and Lady Gaga together at the video awards the other night.

Which of those two fashion icons wore your favored ensemble? Very similar style, identical sexual teasing, same facial features and robust bodies, and both dressed in high kitschy glamor. Me, I’m with Cher. I had sex dreams about Cher back to when she was still the “and” part of Sonny.

Plus, Lady Gaga’s meat outfit disturbed my pig and ostrich. I tried to get them to see that she was just expressing her artist license, and not drying meat in a dark, a satirical way. Rush Limbaugh and Rick Perry remained unamused.

Now, compare the Queen and the Pope. Twins, I tell you.

Look, don’t take my word for it, go to www.telegraph.co.uk/news/damianthompson , and look at the photos Damian has posted. He’s got several shots of the twins you can use to compare. Then look at the pithy comments left to Mr. Thompson’s newsy story.

The British crack me up.

Anyway, now my ADHD is fritzing and I have a million things to say. But I need to focus and get to my point.

Here’s what I’m wondering. I think I know how to fix many of the world’s problems. At least fix some of England’s and the Catholic’s problems. Let’s put the Queen and the Pope in a bedroom with rubber sheets on the bed. We’ll dose them with Gram’s sex potion she calls Drop Them Knickers Darlin- Ain’t You Never Been On A Date Before?, and give them a few cases of Carta Blanca on ice. I’ll have SAC Ellen pop the Pope a good jolt from her stun gun.

Then we’ll just lock the door and come back manana.

Except maybe we’d need to put the Pope in with jolly Prince Charles, and stun old Charlie. I remain unconvinced that the Popie-Poo even likes girls. The way he treats women makes a man wonder.

In that case, we’d need to find a man for the Queen. I’d volunteer myself, except for me having a committed relationship. But I’ve never had sex with a queen. I bet she’d be all bossy and shit. Might be fun to role play with her though.

I did have sex with a real Princess, though. Married her, in fact. But that’s in my book, so enough said.

But here’s my point. The Pope said something while he was over to England that might have been almost smart. If I understand correctly, he said something like, “The focus of the church will be on helping the victims of abuse.”

That is almost smart because heretofore, the Church hasn’t had any focus except to focus on hiding the truth and avoiding dealing with the issue. I say it is almost smart because, just like any epidemic, you must treat the infected and the carriers alike. It does no good to treat only the sufferers if you keep infecting more to suffer.

But I chose to be encouraged by the Popester’s message, and await the follow-up statement. Call me Pollyanna, but I really would like to think the Catholics are getting it.

Anyway, enough of that shit. It’s Carta Blanca time!

Manana, y’all.

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