Dear Pope Pius, or Leo, or Boniface, or what-ever you're calling your-self these days,

I like to think of my-self as the American pope. Not that I am some damn Papist, but I must admit that you and I share some similarities. For starters, we both live in enormous palaces protected by a impenetrable phalanx of Swiss Guard. We both wear tall hats. And we both enjoy reading the Bible. My favorite part is when Ahitub begat Zadok.

Any-way, now that the ice is broken, the reason I am writing is as follows: My grand-son, L. Gideon, has run into a bit of trouble. The lad, who has always possessed the adventurous and impulsive spirit that embodies the great Zweibel clan, recently eloped with a mackerel snapper of Irish extraction from the near-by village. Need-less to say, I greatly fear that the Zweibel blood-line will be sullied. There-fore, I beseech you to annul their marriage before they start spawning a bunch of incense-swinging cunt turds.

My request should not be in any way interpreted as a submission to your authority. I continue to believe, as I always have, that you are in league with Satan. We Zweibels have been devoutly Protestant for generations. I can't remember exactly what faith we belong to, but I believe it was founded in the 16th century by a pointy-chinned Swiss fellow who believed that all souls are predestined to go to Hell, and that one's sexual organs should be nightly immersed in boiling quick-silver to eliminate any unhealthy compulsions.

In fact, I was simply going to have the Irish-woman assassinated, but I was talked out of it by my advisor, Beavers, who said that such an action might be detrimental to the reputation of this news-paper. Then I remembered once hearing that Catholics may only end a marital partnership with a special annulment granted by the church.

So I would very much be grateful if you would dissolve this shameful union in which my grand-son has involved him-self. Perhaps we can work out some kind of deal. For example, I would be willing to free the Archbishop of Baltimore from the dungeon beneath my estate. He's been in there nearly 20 years, and I know that's remained a particular sticking-point with you.

  Awaiting your prompt reply,
      I remain yours very truly,
      T. Herman Zweibel