From “The Private Diary of Bishop F. Atticus McButterpants” – 25-04-21: Receiving news that the Pope died

EDITOR’S NOTE:  Over the last few weeks, I have met readers who have come to Rome. Several have asked me how Bp. Fatty has been, since there haven’t been any entries from his diary.  Dear readers, I can’t provide what I don’t have!  “I can’t make bricks without straw!”  The source had to go back to her native place for a while due to a family emergency.  The good news is that she is back. Select pages are again coming over the digital transom.  There’s a lot of backlog, but for obvious reasons she sent some of the more recent pages.

April 21, 2025

Dear Diary,

Pope Francis has gone to his eternal reward.  At least I hope reward.  I sincerely pray for him.  I always had the feeling that he was maybe kinda a little out of his depth… kinda like me, truth be told to you, Dear Diary, but different of course.  You have to like a lot of things F did but he could come off as pretty scary and grouchy.  That isn’t me at all.  Fr. Tommy gave me the news via a really late early phone call.   I could hear a lot of laughter and happy noises in the far background and I suspect there might have been a bit of that LagOfVilin he likes, something.  Tastes like an ashtray, to me. T apologized for being snarky when he said he hoped St. Peter asks him to explain “footnote three hunderd” something. Whatever that is.  A movie?

Here’s the weird thing.  I was already awake for Fr T’s call! Chester – I swear that dog has supernatural powers started howling just before the phone rang.  I’m talking to T and there’s this crash sound in the living room. T hanged up and I rolled into the living room.  There he is, chewing up the frame and photo of THE POPE I had on the wall by the bookcase.  How he got it down I’ll never know.  I guess Chester was ready for a new Pope.

What I’m praying for now is a Pope who isn’t so moody, or at least comes with a user manual.  Jesuit, right? Those interviews and remarks created endless HEADACHES for us bishops with people asking what the hell he meant by this or that.  It was enough to cause panic attacks.  And all the beeess about the old Latin Mass. ULCERS.  Is that what Tommy was talking about?  I want a guy who smiles a lot and maybe doesn’t do much.  They tell me there is an Italian cardinal named Pizzabama who’d be good.  With a name like that I’m all in! Maybe he could throw in a Marian year every now to give us a good reason to go to Rome for a couple weeks.  Devotions. Pizza. Wine. Devotions. More Pizza!  Viva Papa Pizza!

I didn’t much sleep after that with different bishops and old friends calling.  Father Gilbert walked into my office this morning in full black morning attire – HA ! my little joke – morning! – but he seemed really sad. He even refused his usual hazelnut coffee. This is serious, I thought.  I had him find reasons to dodge the calls from the local newsies all day long.  But G isn’t T.  Which reminds me of a good gin and tonic.  I hope the dodges worked.

Today would have been easier with Fr T here.  Why did I do that, anyway?

So it’s another Pope.  Who knows what this time.  Some calm for a while.  After all, I’m getting older and frankly Franky – heh – made a lot of unnecessary problems for us, even when we were pretty much on board.  Is that too much to ask?

Until then, I remain in hopeful morning, mood helped by some spiffy cake.  Some of the ladies of the Ladies Sodality of something at saint wherever left some sheet cake after a thing here.  They still have those groups!  It has cherry frosting.  Chester’s vacyuming up the crumbs in the kitchen.  HAH! DESSERT!