So I was-ah driving around Hell's Kitchen because-ah that'sah where ah the heathens are that need-ah my help, when-ah I received the Pope signal coming from around 46th street and-ah 11th. So-ah I go. I went-ah in and-ah immediately started blessing-ah the lost souls with a my holy water. Nobody mind, because-ah was hot as-ah Lucifer balls in there, yes? And then-ah it hit me, children, literally. The work ofa the devil himself in-ah the form of-ah little neon tube. I pleaded with-ah the young sinner to repent and-ah throw the instrument of Satan away and accept God. You know-ah what he says? He says-ah he was-ah gonna "knock-ah me the f out". I was-ah flabbergasted. What-ah am I not-ah the freakin' Pope. So I told him-ah "Go Bless Youself, I'm-ah the friggin' Pope" Then-ah that-ah song from Whitney Houston came on-ah for 45 minutes, "my Love-ah is you Love". That same young boy came-ah up to me crying and-ah hugging me. He asked-ah if "I was-ah OK" and-ah my friends, it made all-ah the difference. I gave-ah him a thumbs up to let-ah him know I was-ah OK. I learned-ah that from-ah "safe partying" The Moral: "Glowsticks-ah" are forged in Hell, and there-ah is no fight-ah too big that some illegal drugs-ah and-ah long-ah ass remix cannot fix. Go with God. ------------------ God be with you... [This message has been edited by popejohnpaul2 (edited 11-27-2000).]