I’m a Catholic man by religion, or at least I do fancy myself one. During legion routine boring days on the job contemplating my domestic plight, I, like most others, indulge myself from time to time in a micro dream of my fantasy job. Mine would be to assume the position of his excellency, the Pontiff. I should be the Pope. Come on, I would be a really boss Pope; the best Pope ever! Why should I be the next Pope? The more telling question is why shouldn’t I be the next pope?

Hear me out; I submit to you my face value qualifications:

I am a Catholic man by faith, or at least I fancy myself one. I paid my initial dues. I suffered through Catholic school for six consecutive years of my life, the best six years of my life, years that I will never get back. I was schooled by nuns. You heard me right: full body smock-wearing, no mouthwash-using, Dominique-singing, ruler-in-palm-slapping, ear-yanking, none in the morning none at night-getting nuns.

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