Ever since the 2004 election, Ohio has displaced Florida as the locus of voter fraud, becoming, in effect, the tipping point for our demise. The good news for the tourist-hungry pimps at the Miami-Dade Chamber of Commerce is that the Sunshine State will forever be regarded as ground zero in the Terri Schiavo crusade. One can only imagine the various “right to life” destinations (the hallway where she first collapsed, the operating room where her feeding tube was originally inserted) and cheap souvenirs (Terri’s official line of drool bibs and adult diapers) marketed to the hapless pilgrims pouring in from the Bible Belt. But beware; the most zealous religious fanatics won’t be easily swayed.

Some of these folks believe that Jeb Bush, who refused in the final hours to grant custody to the Department of Children and Family Services, became an instrument of Terri’s death. But we need to be fair to the Governor; there is no guarantee that the welfare agency could have kept her alive anyways. These are the same folks that lost 5-year-old Rilya Wilson. A subsequent review, you may recall, found caseworkers unable to account for nearly 1,000 children ostensibly under their supervision. Larry Pintacuda, the department’s assistant secretary of operations, explained the recovery process: “You just hope and pray that nothing happens, and you do your darnedest to find them.” Hopefully, the fate of these kids was better than that visited upon Sarah Lunde and Jessica Lundsford. Both Florida girls were recently sexually assaulted and murdered by registered sex offenders. The crimes, while heinous, were entirely preventable. David Onstott and John Couey should have been in prison but were out on parole because Mr. Bush, apparently, disagreed with the sentencing imposed by those out-of-control “activist judges.” And who thought Willie Horton would come back through that revolving door and bite the Bushes in the ass?

When a family dog goes to the Great Kennel in the sky, the household is invariably consumed with mourning: the kids won’t eat, their schoolwork slides and Mom completely let’s herself go – forgetting all about deodorant and shampoo. And then, all of a sudden, the black veil is lifted, slurped away by the wet kisses of a new puppy. The droopy ears, the clumsy mien. And with all that damn poop to pick up, no one even remembers Old Yeller anymore. And so it is for the Pope. One day his death watch is all over CNN, and the next he becomes a footnote.

Clearly, the laity doesn’t just pop down to the local pet store. So how does the Church anoint a new Pontiff? Simply, the highest-ranking prelates take a vote. In the old days, these things used to go on endlessly – Pope Gregory X was selected after nearly three years of squabbling – and so, over time, strict rules have been implemented to speed things up. Nowadays, the Cardinals are locked away in the Sistine Chapel and, while cut off from the outside world, elect the Pope’s successor. Yet, the Cardinals, during this process, are not to be alone. According to Univers Dominice Gregis no. 46, they are joined in their sequestration by several confessors, two doctors and a bevy of “service attendants.” Under rules imposed in 1274, food is reduced to bread and water after the third day of deliberations. Further motivation was instituted in 1555 when Marcellus II decreed that after the fifth tally, all young boys (read: service attendants) and personal lubricants shall be removed from the Domus Sanctae Marthae.

It’s no surprise, then, that it took only 24 hours and two ballots to confirm upon Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger the mantle of Pope Benedict XVI. Among Ratzinger’s eminent qualifications was his tenure as dean of the College of Cardinals and his membership in Germany’s Hitler Youth Organization. Herr Joseph wistfully recalls his participation while attending the St. Michael Seminary in 1941. So much so that his first official foray beyond the Vatican will be to Cologne in August to preside over the World Youth Day rally. Regrettably, Leni Reifenstahl won’t be available. There are 1.1 billion Catholics on this planet, and if each one tithed just one dollar to General Motors, the automaker could post a breakeven quarter, and, perhaps, the Church could atone for its latest sin.