he newest pope has been elected and chosen the name Pope Benedict XVI, and already the supreme being of Catholicism has taken a fierce stance against faded fascist groups by renouncing his own brief history with the Hitler Youth. In the world's entire Catholic population, it would seem to be an easy task to find one respectable cardinal who wasn't previously involved with the Nazi party, but apparently Joseph Ratzinger of Germany has some inside dish that landed him in the pope seat.

Responding to accusations of being a fascist, Ratzinger addressed his Nazi history and reassured detractors he was generally against the extermination of non-Catholics. In memoirs, Ratzinger described being "forced" into joining the Hitler Youth against his will as a youngster in Nazi-fied Germany. He left to study for the priesthood, aided by his anti-Nazi family (who kept their anti-Nazism secret), but was drafted into the army in 1943, where he put his hate for fascism to work foiling the Nazi machine from the inside, until he deserted and arranged capture by U.S. troops before moving on in fascism-free Germany to become a priest.

Ratzinger renewed his fight against Nazism Thursday, answering challenges from those who opposed his Popedome.

"I have always been an enemy of fascism in all its forms," said the Pope. "And I look forward to laying down a rigid doctrine of Catholicism, the one true religion, to be obeyed by one and all."

The selection of Pope Benedict came in the wake of the death of Pope John Paul II, who some sources only at the commune claim is still alive and has been taken into hiding by Vatican officials. Why? So a younger, fresh pope of Bel-Air could reinvigorate the stagnating Catholic church.

Pope Benedict has been an advisor of the late/missing Pope John Paul for years, and an opponent of reform within the Vatican. As Ratzinger, his secret pre-Pope identity, he argued against such church-devastating movements as religious pluralism, gay rights, feminism, communism, and liberation theology, which argues that the church should play an active role in politics of change.

Before his election, Ratzinger lectured the selection committee on "relativism" in the Catholic Church, and dedication to principle was unfairly labeled "fundamentalism."

"We are moving toward a dictatorship of relativism which does not recognize anything as for certain and which has as its highest goal one's own ego and one's own desires." Then, the officials still elected him.

As the new pope, Benedict compared efforts to change and reform the church to following whims and fads, and ended his early speeches by extending his arm and shouting a rousing, "Hail the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!" He was then asked by Vatican consultants to not ever do so again.

Theologians believed the selection of Ratzinger a clear attempt to distance the modern Catholic Church from the hedonistic reign of Polish Pope John Paul II.

"The 'anything goes' days of the old pope are gone," said professor of Theology at the Newark University Norm Chauncey, whom this reporter interviewed for strictly vindictive reasons. "The Church was obviously sick of becoming the laughing stock of the world, out of touch with the rigid morality of the modern era and its uncompromising dedication to religion. What better way to bring the wayward back to the fold than to force closer adherence to the guidelines set for Catholics in the 1960s?"

Thanking the professor, this reporter then went home and reaffirmed his commitment to atheism.

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You can well imagine my fury when I found out my charity, "Rok Finger's Kids," hadn't been in operation for a number of years. Worse yet, I was still writing all my donations off on my taxes, and the IRS is just this side of pissed about that. What a middle-class nightmare. I immediately went down to see what happened to my charity, and why they apparently closed down after a month.

This is the worst time for money problems. My one source of income—the commune—has put me on early warning that I may be losing my job, the car is in desperate need of X-M radio, Camembert is getting married in three months, and I just spent $12,000 on that exorcism and that guy Eugene is still sleeping in the attic. What a waste of money. Did I mention Camembert proposed to his girlfriend? Funny how I forget to mention all these major things. I'm pretty sure I did three or four extensive columns on X-M radio already… but as I said, this could not be a worse time for money issues.

Since the building for the charity is now a Taco Bell, and all the bank accounts are closed and everything, I had to track down the former president of Rok's Kids and see what the deal was. How does a charity go out of business after a month? Uncharitable bastards, perhaps. But I couldn't second-guess the situation. I wanted facts.

That former president I mentioned was a woman, it turns out. Always look closely at those forms your applicants fill out. I thought by her name, Ginger Baker, she had to be a man, but turns out I was wrong. Sure, she was quite qualified for running charitable organizations, having ran the March of Dimes for five years before she was fired and charged with embezzling, but it doesn't change the fact she's a woman. And you know how I feel about women and how they deal with money—they're hopelessly good with math, and will always be on your ass about where the expenditures are going. I didn't need that.

Too late now, of course. So I found Ginger Baker at her new job, running a talent agency for pets, and demanded to know what happened to my charitable organization that shared my namesake. She said it bottomed out very quickly, that no one wanted to give any money to an organization named after a guy they had never heard of, an organization whose recipients, for all intents and purposes, were kids with no discernible illnesses or afflictions. I said it was horse hockey, of course, and then laughed for several minutes at the idea of horses wearing ice skates playing hockey. The shape of the goalie mask alone nearly put me into a permanent laughing coma… heh heh… horse hockey…

So everything worked perfectly, and I have a date with Ginger Baker for Saturday. She's quite an attractive woman, for someone who refuses to smile unless it's tax-deductible. And sexy, too! No, not at all. But thanks for getting my hopes up. In truth, you may or may not know this, but I do not write my column "live," and in fact write it several days ahead of the time it actually prints. So Saturday has, in fact, come and gone already. To you, Rok Finger of that Saturday: Way to go, you sex factory! Or, by alternative, way to blow it for all of us, dickweed. One of these is probably applicable to you.

Oh, and if it need to be said, don't worry about the kids. They were bed-bound, some of them comatose, and in either case they weren't very aware I started a charity for them at all. They probably don't know the gravy train ever began, so they won't wonder where it went to.

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Well, I'll give you three guesses as to what Omar Bricks wants for Christmas this year, with the added bonus that I get to kick you in the ass if you're wrong. Because that means you're either stupid or haven't been reading my column for the last eight months. And even if you're just trying to be funny by saying shit like "a boob job" or "world peace," come on man, I'm giving you three guesses here.

It should come as no surprise to those of you out there who respond to external stimuli that a new car is way at the top of the Omar Bricks wish list this holiday season. Yes, even higher than a gas-powered man kite or a money-winning horse like that Seabiscuit. Sweet as those both would be, and even sweeter in combination, a new car has to be Christmas Priority #1. Besides, I didn't get either of those other things last year and I prefer to maintain exclusivity when it comes to the gifts I request: If you didn't get me what I wanted last year, you missed your chance, Bud. Sucks to be you, but I have my pride to consider.

So this year it's all about the car. And possibly car-themed accessories like a ball-ratting stereo system or some stylish naugahyde seat covers. Or some skiis. Basically, if it fits in the car somehow, I'll take it.

But the main part of the present had better be a car, because if end up with a shitload of fuzzy dice and hula girl statues and crap with no car to put them in, I'm pretty sure I'll be pissed. The smart money's on some Bricks rage in that scenario. Not to be an ungrateful giftee or anything, but come on. That's just bullshit. Half that crap has no use outside of an automobile, unless I take a sewing class so I can turn a set of naugahyde seat covers into some kind of bizarre Buffalo Bill couch cover or some disturbing shit like that. And then I'd need to redo the whole house with a Silence of the Lambs theme just to make the couch match, which sounds like a lot of work and a waste of all the carnival mirrors I bought last week.

And just so I can cover all my bases this year, let me make it clear that I consider the gag gifting of any kind of little matchbox or other toy car to be grounds for serious retaliation, as that shit's neither funny nor useful, and that's seventy-five cents you could have put toward some very small fraction of a car I could actually drive. Use your brains here, people: pool your resources. Hold a walkathon or something, I don't give a shit. I'll even submit a decent photo to have printed up on the t-shirts, that's how far I'm willing to go to make this happen. I don't imagine there are many charitable mugs out there who could look at a picture of Omar Bricks throwing eggs at the president and deny that this man needs a car. Me, not the president. I'm not sure if the president owns his own car or not, but he seems to get around okay. You never see him pushing a little kid off his bike when he's late to work in the morning, that's all I'm saying.

As for what kind of car, be creative. Unless your idea of "creative" means cheap and shitty, in that case don't be creative. Forget I said that. Think of it as if you were buying yourself a car, only imagine that you like yourself more than you do, and money's no object. That should work. And if you like Volvos, fuck off. You shouldn't be involved in this process at all; I don't want you skewing my car gift with your bad taste and questionable judgment.

You can get me a radar detector or something. Pretty hard to fuck that up. Thanks.

Bricks out.

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