Pope Francis's last blessing

On April 20, Pope Francis finally inhaled his last incense. St. Peter's Basilica is silent, the cardinals wear black – not out of mourning, but because that's the dress code for the lobby of hell. Yes, he's dead. Finally.

And if there's a shred of justice in the universe, the welcome in the underworld was as warm as a Cerberus welcoming squad on caffeine. Only one person wasn't pleased: the devil himself. "What am I supposed to do with him?" he asked when the news was delivered to him. "He did my job better than I could."

Back to the architecture of hell on earth, also known as the Audience Hall in the Vatican. Anyone who looks around there might come up with the crazy idea that a giant snake took LSD, studied architecture and then submitted her final project under the motto "Satanic Chic." No reason to worry, say church officials. It's all perfectly normal. Hell has good taste. And yes – anyone who believes this is a coincidence probably also believes that indulgences were a spiritual innovation.

Directly behind it, an altar that you expect to come alive at any moment, murmuring a mass in ancient Greek while the walls sweat blood. But don't panic, everything's under control. After all, experts are here. Centuries of experience in hypocrisy, abuse of power, and the perfect poker face whenever another scandal bubbles to the surface. Jesus? He left this place long ago.

He came by once, wanted to clean up, overturned tables, and kicked parasites out of the temple, but management had other plans. Today, those same parasites are CEO, CFO, and Head of Propaganda. And their company, "Church & Control Inc.", is doing better than ever. Global presence, gigantic reserves, tax-free, of course. All in the name of the man who walked barefoot through deserts and preached the truth. Irony? No, that has long since devolved into bitter cabaret.

And this Jesus, who never wanted to found a religion, whose teachings were ancient wisdom, uncensored, wild, divine, became a caricature. Imprisoned in dogma, pressed into crosses, and talked to death with Latin formulas. Instead of lived spirituality, there are now glittering masses with laser lights, organ music, and canonizations on demand. And now, let's get down to business: The Vatican is *not* a religious institution. It is an occult power center with millennia of experience in manipulation. Why the snake altar? Why reptilian windows, demonic sculptures, pagan symbolism?

Because that's exactly how it's supposed to be. Welcome to the "Vatican Escape Room." Unfortunately, there's no exit. And even if you do find one, it'll probably lead to the nearest branch, somewhere in Washington, Tel Aviv, London, or Geneva. And what about Islam, Judaism, Buddhism? Oh, sweet that you still think they're independent spiritual paths. The truth? All franchises in the global corporation of intellectual dumbing down. Controlled opposition—something for everyone. So that no one even gets the idea of ​​thinking for themselves.

The only rebellion permitted is on paper. And woe betide anyone who places themselves outside the system; they'll be branded "heretical" faster than a medieval heretic after breakfast. And now back to Francis, the superstar of gentleness. The Pope who always smiles so beautifully, strokes doves, and attends climate summits. The saint of hearts, some say. The world-understanding man. The brother of humanity.

It's just a shame that behind the smiling face lies a system of centuries of control – with files on children who never grew up, with collusions with dictatorships, with secret libraries full of truths that must never see the light of day. His death? An event. A loss for the faithful, an upgrade for the insiders. Because while the world mourns, the next successor is already being briefed in the shadows: with the same old recipes, neatly wrapped in new rhetoric. And who knows, perhaps the next pontiff will even wear an AI miter. After all, progress is calling.

And so we say: Safe journey, Francis. May your path through purgatory be paved with all the lip service you've paid to the truth. And when you finally arrive at the executive suite of the underworld, make yourself comfortable. The devil has probably already saved a seat for you: right next to all the other popes who thought they could play God. But don't worry, you too will be forgotten someday. Like a wisp of incense in the wind.

What remains is the great lie in gold and marble. And a stone snake's head that continues to smile. Because the Vatican isn't dying. It's just shedding its skin. Again and again... but he was the LAST pope; there won't be another one. Thank heavens!

(by Christopher Naumann via Nialas Fountain)