Putting Trump Money On the Pope

SOMEBODY SAID SOMETHING about converting Trump and his supporters to sanity and decency. Good luck wth that, as we often say. One's chances of converting a Red Sox fan to a Yankee fan, or a Christian to Islam would be better, although both have been done, supposedly. This well intentioned pipe dream has the fatal flaw of windmill tilting crusades for justice in that it is hopeless on its face. We must, we should, Goethe admonished, do with others as we do with toddlers learning to walk; allow them to toddle along, unassisted, learning as they go. If Trump hasn't learned not to disrespect the Pope by now, he never will. Pope Leo has assigned blame for the world's miseries; a few tyrants, whom he refrained from naming. He missed a golden opportunity, or maybe he's saving the names for later. We cannot afford to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or house the homeless because, after all, we have a war of choice to fight in Iran, and our heroes must be well armed. The Pope, intimated the greasy haired Secretary of Defense, who is now perhaps or perhaps not sober, should flat out mind his own business, ignoring the fact that upbraiding petty tyrants for failing to beat swords into plough shares is preceisly what said Pope, all Popes, are hired to do. American evangelicals, eighty two percent of whom still support Trump, are predictably solidly behind their petty tyrant of choice in his war of choice, and in his attempt to incite a verbal war with His Holiness, a war of words His Orangeness could never hope to win, owing to his lack of anything intellectually worth its salt beyond a grade school vocabulary and special education intellect. Pete Hegseth, quoting the scripture from the film "Pulp Fiction", chose from aomng the many violent passages in what is beyond dispute the most violent book ever written by any God, living or dead, ever. Something about a just war, and taking up the sword when one has other choices. Arguably, Pope Leo should mention by name the petty tyrants to whom he appropriately refers. He has more than a few to choose from, and you know who would surely make the cut. Bruce Willis, bless his heart, is no longer able to chime in on the matter, nor any other matter, but Samule L.Jackson is,and word is that he is siding with the Pope, and looking to kick Trump's reportedly diapered butt. Of the world's nearly billion and a half Catholics, five'll get you ten that the vast majority of them are less than pleased with the President of the twenty first century version of the Roman Empire, and proud of the Vicar of Christ, who does not need to cloister imself within the walls of the Vatican, surrounded by moats and crumbling classical architecture, to come out verally swinging for the fences. He is, after all, an American, a spiritually rough and tumble intellectual brawler from the city of big shoulders,who could brush aside alightweight like Don the Con with more rapid dispatch than Cassius Clay in the second Sonny Liston fight. The good money is on Leo the whatever number his is. Trump'll hit the canvas quicker than Roberto Duran said "no mas", and Leo, without even getting his hands or white garments dirty, will be right back in the ring quicker than a hiccup, spreading the gospel of love and peace. Trump'll take an eight count, and be carried off on a stretcher, looking like a patsy poorly paid but still willing to take a dive, while his MAGA flock scatters to the four winds, wishing to heaven and hell that they had put their money on the Pope.