And the Winner is…
John Phillips of London, New York, Paris, Helsinki …
This guy gets around and he came up with this stellar plan to get me into the Vatican:
“Buy a ticket to Rome and convince the Vatican Guards that you’d like five minutes with the Pope. They will of course refuse but you’ll persuade them with promises of tasty fast food. Once inside, you’ll persuade His Holiness that centuries of tradition are out of step with the modern world (what are we, Arabs?) – he will of course see your point (thanks to something you whisper privately in his ear). Not only does he thank you for helping him to finally see the light, he rewards your efforts by making you the first female Catholic priest. You return to Paris where you lead a flock and where you will soon be heralded worthy of becoming the first female Bishop, thanks to your anti-corporatist stance and your insight about the connection between American presidents and the evangelical right. Following your decree banning ketchup from all catholic churches in France, you are promoted to Cardinal. Not long afterwards, and very unfortunately, the Pope has taken ill having ironically been curious about this certain substance called ketchup. He dies peacefully in his sleep and you are once again called to Rome, this time to the Sistine Chapel. There, you discover that the business of picking Popes isn’t quite as you’ve heard. In fact, it’s a bit more like playing a game of Parcheesi but without the Indian food. A natural team player, you divvy up the game pieces and trounce Bishop after Bishop until you and Cardinal Dundee are ahead 118-2. With a flip of a coin, he concedes and you are declared Papess Joan II to all the adoring fans in front of St. Peter’s Basilica.”
Thank you, John, for helping to make Pope Joan II a reality! I’d like to point out, dear Readers, that John is not a Catholic; I’ll even venture to say that this lack of affiliation has enabled him to think outside the confessional box where so many of the papists get snagged into cycles of sin and repentance at the expense of fostering their potential which is itching to wing toward greatness etc. What creative, forward thinking, John! I am currently scheming to find a way to carry a candle heated fondue pot beneath my cape, for the Swiss guards cannot resist a proper Savoyarde stew of melted Beaufort and aged comté. A bottle of fine Chignin will sit uncorked in my pocket as drinking water with cheese brings misfortune they say. I assume the guards carry Dixie cups.
Others contributed ideas of a randy, Robespierre-like fanaticism ; however, at this time, I absolutely cannot consider assassination plots. As a future leader of the moral and spiritual realm, I must practice what I preach. Merci tout de même. As for the naysayers, well, I offer you my forgiveness. I am aware that not everyone is ready for Pope Joan II. Say the nay all you want. She will happen, nay or not.
John will be receiving a copy of The Baby of Belleville in the mail.
Because my gratitude runs deep I’d like to pay him hommage by posting a bit about him. His bio :
John Phillips was born and raised in Fresno, California. After graduating from Occidental College, he moved to San Francisco where he met his Finnish wife. Together they relocated to London from where they frequented the finest coffeehouses of Paris, Venice, Rome, Stockholm and Helsinki on a regular basis. Notebook and now iPad in hand, John is an author, playwright and musician. His first book, written about his father’s family called The Good Intent, was published in 2007. John currently resides in New York City where he recently completed work on his first short unproduced play Three Daughters, and where he is currently writing his first novel.
Go, John, go! Et mille merci!