Pope says what...!?!

I'm not going to even try to sort out the political ramifications of speaking against anyone's religion, especially not when there are so many different angles to consider and countless ways to piss someone off. But I will ask blatantly hypothetical questions and be very disgruntled when I don't receive responses.

1. Dear Mr. The Pope:

Why!?! That's it. Just 'Why?' I know all those Vatican file-monkeys are a little behind on the atonements (the last apologetic shout-out went out to all those dissed in the 3rd century or so), but why start some shit that won't even be up for debate on whether or not you should pass a papal "My Bad" until the sun is up for renewal? Yes, the media took a snippet and ran all willy-nilly, but Christ on a Cheez-It, man! What's gonna happen to you? Nuthin' cause the pope-mobile's all gassed up and fitted with rocket-launchers, and you've got billions who'll sacrifice their pew-flattened behinds in the name of your silly hat alone. What about all the innocents, the good and even not so good christians and catholics and what-have-you's, that get to deal with the aftermath?


2. To Anyone Planning Genocide Because Some Old Coot had One too Many Communion-Margaritas:

If someone calls you “idiot” you don’t run with scissors off a cliff into a pool of laser-touting sharks, right? If someone says you’re “smelly” you don’t boycott soap and deodorant to demonstrate how mistaken they are. So if someone says you’re violent, why do a butt-load of things to prove them right? Better yet, send the offending party a nice fruit basket with a card and shame them into submission.

Scenario:
Joe Pope: Steve’s a poopie-head, and I don’t want to be his friend any more. I’m gonna tell everyone he wets the bed and smells like monkey tits.

Bad Solution:
Steve Islam: Joe Pope said what!?! Well, that does it. I’m gonna punch him and all his friends in the box and burn his clubhouse to the ground.

Good Solution:
Joe Pope: Hey, someone sent me tropical fruit. That rocks! Wait, there’s a card.

‘Dear Joe,

I’m sorry you’re such a twat-waffle,

but you can kiss my peace-loving ass.

Signed, Steve

P.S. Enjoy the fruit, you intolerant twit.’

Well, that told me. I’m just another in a long line of bully’s who only pick on others because they secretly despise their domineering father. I'm going to drown my shame in a bowl of Christ-Chex and think about what I've done.