When a gig as awesome as this comes up one must throw their hat in the ring. It’s been six hundred years between resignations enough time to get a whole lot of death happening on this planet.
I never got the Pope thing other than it seemed like a good catered job. I would do it for the splendid opportunity to set some burning issues straight and have a glass encased golf cart to tool around.
I would change the outfits to more of Mark’s Work Wear House look. Bishops in Kodiaks winter time and beige slacks during summer vacate.
The music? It’s got to change. I’m thinking some Robert Glasper Experiment – funk it up lightly. Still dig the incense – that can stay, maybe a hint of barbeque chicken too.
Honestly, I don’t know what Pope’s do all day. I know there are plenty cloaked men around – in fact a bit to many so why not more women. You know conversation would veer away from contraception and sin for a time and to at least a discussion on the current season of the Mentalist.
I think I would officially declare Sunday and Monday off days and insist everyone – all faithful take time and hang out with family and friends. You may ask why Monday - I want people to love it more.
I would declare all dogs saints as if they need an official ceremony or holy reminder. In fact, I would always have two dogs at my side as greeters.
I would renounce torture and ask Rhianna forgive Chris Brown – well, maybe not!
I would have the Vatican open its doors and welcome the poor and insist they remove all of that gaudy gold and sell the candle holders at flea markets.
I wouldn’t hold this gig for life – I’d like to make it an old school sixties musicians engagement – two weeks and sets run nine to one PM.