John Paul, George Ringo

The college of cardinals voting on the next pope is sooooo eighth century.

They could decide it kind of like an episode of “Survivor”. Put all the cardinals on a small island and come back in a few weeks. I know you can’t live on bread alone, but I wanna see a robed octogenarian catch a fish with his teeth.

Wait a few more months, and if the smoke from the signal fire is white, they’ve decided on a new pope. If it’s grey and greasy, the cardinals got hungry and drew straws.

Or maybe they could hold a WWF cage match (“Can you smell what Cardinal Pappalardo is cooking!!”).

But what’s really sad is the toll the competition takes on their bodies. And when their natural talent fades they turn to…. Juicing.