Day 441: Holy smoke.

Every since I asked if I could be Pope right here in Greenville instead of moving to the Vatican I’ve been watching my neighbor Daniel’s chimney. It’s not that I want to be Pope, but Delphine said if they pick me she doesn’t see how I can refuse.

chimney2In any case, everything’s been fine until this morning when the smoke coming out of his chimney had a definite white cast to it. I’m not saying that Daniel is actually hosting the Conclave or anything – but you never know.

Delphine asked why I was so opposed to taking the reins. I said it seemed to me that if the goal was peace on Earth and goodwill to men then that bunch has done a pretty lousy job. Besides, I hate managing turnarounds. How many years should it take to stop the killing and exploitation? If you can’t get it right in two thousand years maybe it’s time to find a new gig.

I’ll take a good start-up any day. Everyone rolls up their sleeves, you take calculated risks, there are lots of late nights eating pizza and trying to make do with a fraction of the resources of corporate behemoths. You set up a card table at Comdex to show off your new software, an editor stops by for a look-see, you make the cover of the magazine, and you’re off and running.

If Daniel’s white smoke means what I think it does, first thing I’m going to do is ask all those guys in fancy robes what they’re doing about peace and goodwill. Anything that doesn’t stop war or make people smile at each other goes right up on Ebay lickity split. No more fancy altars, jeweled crucifixes, golden vestments. It’s time to get back to basics.

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