A Modest Proposal for Dealing with Vatican Crimes: Eat the Pope

By Kevin D. Annett

In these latter days of planetary hysteria, everyone seems to be the enemy and the real villains keep getting away with their shit cloaked behind money or a papal procession. It’s enough to make you want to puke all over everything, you know?

These are indeed the times that try not only our souls, but our imagination. Someone says “a visiting tyrant”, and all we can think of doing is grabbing a protest sign and calling the creep names.

And so it was with some awe and elation that I was struck nearly blind by my own brilliance this morning, as the answer finally came to me.

We have to eat the Pope.

Cannibalism is a very Catholic thing to do, after all, as any good Communion-Eater knows. And it’s also the easiest and most direct way to deal with a problem: ingest it. We in the West are good at that. Hell, we chewed up some 50 million brown folks on this side of the Atlantic alone. Assimilating the enemy is old hat, and the prescribed method of all True Believers.

It’s also the moral thing to do, as well. We eat our enemies for their own good. Ask any missionary or corporate accountant.

Nor do I think that the logistics are a problem. Chubby pontiffs have been on the menu of various Roman factions for millennia, and they drop like flies depending on who’s screwing who. Pope Frank’s no exception. The guy’s got so many enemies in St. Peter’s that he doesn’t even live there.

No, it should be an easy enough thing to slice and dice that plucky little Jesuit jalapeno, and serve him up as a spicy ragout or some fileted Argentine casserole. Joe Ratzinger would be only too happy to supply the carving knives.

Consider, too, the immense moral capital that the dissection and gulping down of Jorge Bergoglio will confer on his late memory, and on his syndicate. His final, Christ like consummation: letting his body and blood be consumed by the faithful! What an unbeatable publicity gimmick for a stumbling Vatican Incorporated!

Nor will the Vatican Museum Gift Shop suffer from all those new Holy Relics provided by a freshly eviscerated Pope. Just think! Bits of Jorge’s bones, a bargain at a hundred Euros apiece, guaranteed to cure the ailment or sins of any Believer! A vial of the Pope’s blood, a sure fire remedy for baldness!

Cast your vision even further afield beyond such mundane theological concerns, and imagine the commercial possibilities of a globally televised “My Dinner with Jorge” event. Holy Smorgasbord! The thing would do better at the box office than Texas Chainsaw Massacre! And think of all the merchandising spinoffs: Blue ray DVD’s of the Pope’s Last Moments on Earth, comic books, T shirts declaring “I Ate the Pope”, and even miniature Jorge candy-dolls, with detachable and edible limbs oozing red jello. A perfect first communion gift!

Now, considering that Pope Frank is coming to the Land of the Fee and the Home of the Depraved this September, this whole Chow Down on the Papal Crown plan should work out wonderfully. After all, who’s more likely to cash in on a profitable business venture than your average Congressman? And come on: it’s not as if Obama and Co. haven’t eaten people before!

Really, the thing will work. Even the soggy mess afterwards will present no problem to the Vatican Cleanup Crew, which has been dumping human remains for a hell of a long time.

So there you have it, people: a morally, theologically and commercially winning plan. Eat the Pope, for your own good: and for his. And as someone so gosh-darned concerned about appearing to do the right thing, Mr. Bergoglio should be all in favor of his own devouring. After all, doesn’t your average priest want to be eaten?

But after all is said and done, if the Pontiff in question is at all averse to the idea of dying for the sake of so many; well, it just goes to show that you can’t trust an actor.

Kevin Annett's photo.

Naming the Child Killers …

From my upcoming book Unrelenting


The Plague reached out and punished us after we counted coup on it that day at the Cathedral. It especially hated Billy Combes because, ennobled and emboldened by his capacity to stand up against it, he went on to undress its horror even more, and name a name, on our airwaves.

We didn’t expect the counter-attack, as elated as we all were by the media fireworks that followed our church occupation and similar seizures by friends of other churches in Toronto and Winnipeg.

The Thing was on the defensive. Ottawa announced an “official investigation” and a possible upcoming “apology” for the residential schools, goaded by Members of Parliament who, echoing our line, began calling for a return of the children for a proper burial. And like a strategic missile launched at a dying foe, our year-in-the-making documentary film about the Canadian Holocaust entitled Unrepentant was released precisely at that time, and was watched everywhere: including in the corridors of power.

All of this made even our most dejected aboriginal members become cautiously hopeful: Billy Combes in particular.

Before our seizure of the catholic Cathedral, he couldn’t even approach a church without becoming ill, no doubt recalling his sodomizing and torture on the rack in the Kamloops residential school basement. But that day of our action, Billy had been there with us, wandering up and down the church aisles, giving leaflets to aghast parishioners and grinning in triumph. And the week after the event, he was actually able to stop drinking rot gut booze, for the first time in many years.

“I couldn’t let you guys down” he explained to me shortly after, when I’d asked him how he’d found the nerve to walk into the cathedral with all of us.

“Now it feels like some of the fear’s gone for me”

So inspired, Billy began to share even darker remembrances on the airwaves of Hidden from History. And one day, he named a perpetrator who calls herself the Queen of England. As through the mists of time …

None of the children knew who she was. All they knew is that they were actually fed and given new clothes the day before she arrived. She wore an expensive suit and bright white boots that laced up the front. The boots were remembered by the children who survived what followed, because all of them had to kneel before it and kiss it.

Billy Combes was barely eleven, and he and his buddy Jessie Jules tried to get out of attending the picnic with the strange woman, since they smelled trouble. But all of the children in those two dorms of the Kamloops Indian School were herded by catholic priests with cattle prods into the front hallway of the school, and from there, into the school bus that took them to Dead Man’s Creek, two miles west of there.

The woman was called “Your Majesty” by the priests who accompanied her, and she was joined by a thin and cold-eyed man that one of the priests called the Prince. It was a short ride down a dusty gravel road.

Once they’d arrived at the Creek, the woman and the Prince stood apart from the children and examined them like they were cattle at an auction. The woman even pointed at several of the children. The priest in charge, a Brother Murphy, began separating ten children from the main group: seven boys and three girls, all of them from that part of central British Columbia.

None of them was older than ten years old.

The Queen and the Prince left with the children soon after that, while the other kids were given lemonade to drink. Billy remembers the lemonade. It had a strange taste to it, and all the remaining kids were forced to drink it. Billy remembers nothing after that until he awoke in his bed back in the dorm.

None of the ten children who left with the Queen and the Prince were ever seen again.

Brother Murphy heard Billy asking questions about the absent children a week or so later, and after pummeling Billy unconscious he placed him in a closet for two weeks where Billy almost died. But he never forgot about the ten missing children, or the strange woman with the white laced boots, on that day of October 10, 1964: a date whose numbers, like the disappeared boys and girls, all add up to ten.

“And Job had seven sons, and three daughters … and behold, there came a great wind from beyond the wilderness, and smote the four corners of the house, which fell upon the children of Job, and they were killed …” (Job 1:2, 19)

Billy Combes began speaking about that day when the Kamloops Ten disappeared; not just on my radio program, but in interviews, at rallies, and even once to a reporter who quickly hurried away when he realized what Billy was saying.

That went on until the day that Billy was killed at St. Paul’s catholic hospital in Vancouver, just before he was to come to London, England and speak about what he knew before a public Tribunal.


“Doppelganger” drama of a post-Revolutionary Canada will begin production this fall

Breaking Media Release – July 7, 2015
New York City:

Fresh on the heels of an official Canadian acknowledgement of the genocide that killed thousands of Indian children, the man who brought it all to public light has written a hard hitting play about the crime that reviewers have already called “a stirring masterpiece and whodunit … akin to The Man in the Glass Booth”. (Betty Richeson, Republican News Service)

The play is “Doppelganger”, and will commence production in September. Its protagonist is a former Canadian clergyman on trial for war crimes at the hands of an aboriginal government in a post-revolutionary Canada.

The author of the play is Kevin Annett, who led the twenty year campaign to expose and prosecute crimes in Canadian Indian residential schools.

“We’re putting out a casting call in September and will begin production that same month” Kevin announced today from New York City, where he is lecturing and reading from his new novel Samuel Wedge: Memoir of Necropolis. (Author House, 2015)

“Doppelganger is a play that turns the tables on the ones who got away with the crime, and places them in the docket. Naturally, Canadian theater companies have been loath to produce it. But considering the timeliness and undeniability of the issue, this is a work that cries out for viewing.”

Kevin Annett is the co-producer of the historic award-winning documentary film Unrepentant, which when released in early 2007, won instant acclaim and helped force the Canadian government “apology” for residential schools the following year. Kevin has thrice been nominated for the Nobel Peace prize by American scholars.

Actors and theatrical groups can view the work and contact Kevin Annett at hiddenfromhistory1@gmail.com or by leaving messages at 386-492-2395 in America.

Issued 7 July, 2015