“The Pope Is Dead! Long live the new Pope!”

So blasts my loud Boston-accented neighbor. Repeatedly. I could shout back “He died yesterday, and there isn’t a new Pope yet!”, or controversially, “Fight the Real Enemy!” (the Sinnead O’Connor reflex), but I don’t. (Later on, I have a creepy encounter with his friend, and some things are a little bit unsettled here.)

“The Pope Is Dead! Long live the new Pope!”

I asked Danny Howe whether the Pope was in Hell or not. He said that he was. (More details of that meeting found here.)

“The Pope Is Dead! Long live the new Pope!”

I’m confused. He forgave his would-be-assassin. People love him for that. Were people expecting him to throw out a clarion call for the flock to carry out Vigilante Revenge?

“The Pope Is Dead! Long live the new Pope!”

I’m guessing probably not as long as the old pope.

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