(not) Live from the Conclave, Day 1: (not) Opening Doors

Rawdogging, Panic at the Disco cover bands, and Is Pollution Really a Great Way to Indicate There is No Pope?

Hi and welcome to Conclave Day One, or as I like to call it, Pope-pourri. (Because right now there are 135 potential popes, so a whole bunch, you know, like a potpourri, yes I know people say a joke isn’t funny if you have to explain it, but I say sometimes it’s even MORE funny.)

My scattered and silly thoughts follow.

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HERE’S TO YOU, DEBORAH

I don’t like to yuck anyone’s yum, but is it me or is it kinda weird that a week after we buried one pope we’re electing another? In what other institution would you have a leader die and then immediately replace them? Nations tend to have someone or someones already in place to become the new leader. Businesses or schools have someone step in, but then most of them would allow some time for a search.

And honestly, is it really all that smart to move so fast? I get it, Deborah* is always around and waiting to help guide and inspire. But she’s not meant to be a justification for impulsivity.

*One of the Holy Spirit’s preferred names.

Wouldn’t it make more sense for cardinals to come to the funeral, have some meetings, then go back to their dioceses for a month or two and kind of let things settle before jumping into picking a whole new guy who will be the head of the whole Cahtolic Church from that point on for as long as he lives? As someone pointed out to me online, the Catholic Church is so incredibly slow about everything, even really really important and basic stuff like affirming the queer people have the right to exist and women can be leaders in the church. But then when it comes to picking a leader, the Cardinals are like, Let’s knock it out it in a couple days.

All I can say is, I don’t envy you, Deborah!

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SUDDENLY SEYMOUR

There’s a thing that happens each conclave, and really only then: People stare for hours at a chimney and look for something to make that fun.

Then this happens:

Yes, a seagull shows up—probably many different seagulls, but shh we like the story our way, and the internets lose their minds.

And my personal favorite:

Remember when this kind of content was 60-75% of what you’d get when you went on the socials? Wasn’t that great?

Yes, there are seagulls around the Vatican, their collective noun is a Seymour, and they will be here to help us through the waiting. Feel free to play along.

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VAMPING

During Pope Francis’ funeral I found myself wishing YouTube had a “Turn Off Narration” function. There really is no way of talking over a spiritual service that doesn’t undermine the spiritual service. (Also, no one has ever needed a translation of a Latin hymn. The music is pretty. Let it be.)

But as I’m watching static imagery of a chimney today, I’m wondering if the Vatican experts were hired as a result of the soothing quality of their voices. I think I fell asleep three separate times in the course of about an hour. They give a whole new meaning to the word vamping.

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INTERGENERATIONAL TRAUMA

At some point in the afternoon this happened.

My first reaction was a very strongly felt This:

Then I checked in with some of my nephews and nieces, and learned that the Youngs do in fact use the term “rawdogging” to describe any situation in which people do not have what they want or need.

And now I have so many other questions. I had no idea that intergenerational trauma could go both ways.

(And yes, habemus pun-um.)

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SOMEONE CALL THE EPA*

*Correction: Someone get in a time machine, go either back before January 20, 2025 or please God after January 22, 2029 and call the EPA.

Day One ended (after just one vote) with no decision. Or there’s a fire at the Vatican.

(Fun Fact: Fire at the Vatican was my high school Panic at the Disco cover band.)

The black smoke which poured from the Sistine Chapel’s chimney comes from the burning votes of the cardinals. But visually what a weird, incoherent symbol. “Hey we don’t have a pope yet, but here’s some soot to pump into the atmosphere.”

So now the cardinals all go back to the dormitory they share outside the Sistine Chapel. (I’m told that the older men are allowed to claim the lower bunks.)

Tomorrow (or really late tonight) is another day! See you there!