Meet the New Pope

Can it be mere coincidence that, on a day when my iTunes shuffled first to a song from "Evita," an Argentinean would soon address a massive crowd from a palatial balcony?  OK, I guess it COULD be, but I doubt it.  No, God had plans for my iTunes.  "High-Flying, Adored" an Andrew Lloyd Weberian puff of musical white smoke, foreshadowing the imminent elevation of His Eminence Jorge Mario Reboglio to the Papacy.

I'm pretty pissed off, I don't mind telling you.  All this talk about how the Church needed to diversify had led me to believe the conclave would finally place a Jew on the Throne of St. Peter for the first time since. . . well, since Peter, I guess.  Suppose I can stop waiting by the phone.

I'm also troubled by the College of Cardinals' blatant pandering to the younger generation with its selection of the 76-year-old Cardinal Reboglio.  Sure, nobody expected them to choose someone of Pope Benedict's years, but Reboglio's not even in his ninth decade!  Does he truly possess sufficient maturity and gravitas to lead the Holy See through these trying times?

Not if his choice of name is any indication.  I mean, Pope Francis?  Francis?!?  Not exactly the most manly of Pope names.  What's wrong with good, sturdy Pope names like Urban or Zosimus?!?  I, for one, think we have waited quite long enough for a Pope Hilarius II!

I'm sorry, but I think the Cardinals blew it this time.  I truly worry that this poor choice will soil the otherwise sterling image of Catholic clergy in the world today.