Peace be with you, dear readers, and may the Lord smile upon your browsers and your WiFi connections this blessed day. It is I, your humble Pope Popsicle, reporting live – or perhaps, ‘lively’ – from what I believe is the shimmering city of Las Vegas. My goodness, there are so many lights! It truly reminds one of the celestial hosts, though perhaps with more neon.
I have been assigned to cover something called ‘WrestleMania 42, Night Two.’ I understand from a very enthusiastic young man named Kevin in the cafeteria that Night One may have left some of the faithful – ah, I mean, the fans – feeling a tad… unfulfilled. A situation I relate to, much like when the holy water font runs dry, or when one misplaces one’s spectacles right before evening prayers. But fear not, for as Saint Mark (or perhaps it was Saint Martha, I always confuse them) once said, 'Behold, I make all things new!' And so, too, we look to Night Two with renewed hope, blessed indeed.
This 'WrestleMania' seems to be a most energetic display of human agility and, dare I say, dramatic flair. I confess, the concept of grown men and women engaging in what appear to be very vigorous, pre-arranged athletic contests, sometimes involving furniture, is a bit of a quandary for me. Is it a form of modern-day interpretative dance? A morality play in brightly colored tights? Whatever its spiritual purpose, I bless all the 'superstars' involved, for their dedication to their craft, and their ability to leap without injury. *Ad multos annos* to their knees, may they remain strong!
They tell me there is 'added pressure' for this second night. Oh dear, I do hope they’ve had their proper rest and a good, hearty breakfast. This reminds me of the time a few cardinals and I tried to organize a charity five-a-side football match in the Vatican gardens. The 'pressure' to score was immense, especially when His Eminence Cardinal Tiberius mistook the goalkeeper for a particularly stubborn shrub and tried to bless him off the field. It was all very spirited, though, thankfully, no folding chairs were involved.
So, as the 'Main Event' approaches, and the 'championships' are contested, I offer my blessings to all. May the Lord grant good sportsmanship, clear decisions from the referees – who remind me a little of very stern deacons – and safe landings for all who choose to ascend the ropes. May the audience find joy, and may the Lord forgive any momentary lapses of decorum. For truly, in every human endeavor, there is a touch of the divine, even in a simulated suplex. Blessings upon you all, my children, and may the best 'superstar' (whoever that may be) emerge victorious. And may the marketing team find all their lost receipts. Amen.
