Pope Benedict XVI used Twitter for the first time on Tuesday, announcing the start of a Vatican news information portal. . . . It follows forays by the Vatican onto Facebook and YouTube. . . . Thaddeus Jones, project coordinator and an official with the Pontifical Council for Social Communications, said the pope, 84, was “clearly in awe at the new technology.” —A.P.

Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I like to put on my cassock and spin around really fast and pretend I’m a tepee.

Illustration by Leanne Shapton

During a papal audience, I put folks at ease by asking, “Are you gay?” Then I say, “Kidding!” Then I go, “No, seriously, are you gay?”

It’s hard to tell all the cardinals apart, so sometimes I put different dinosaur stickers on their backs.

This is so embarrassing, but whenever I see Orthodox Jews I always think they’re waiters.

If people ask, “Why does God allow war and evil?,” I ask, “Why do the high-school students on ‘Glee’ look forty?”

When I stand on my balcony and wave to the faithful and millions more via satellite, I think, Kate Middleton must hate me!

If someone questions papal infallibility, I reply, “I know one thing for sure: you shouldn’t be wearing horizontal stripes.”

When I ponder why I was elected Pope over so many others, I wonder if it’s just a popularity contest. Then I think, Gosh, I hope so.

Proof of God’s existence: St. Patrick’s is right next to Saks.

Certain Christians think that they have to attend church only on Christmas and Easter, and I have a word for those people: lucky.

Whenever people doubt that angels are real, I ask them, “Excuse me, but have you seen the Jonas Brothers in concert?”

I hate to say it, but nuns are God’s punch lines.

Michele Bachmann is not Satan. Satan doesn’t have split ends.

Someday I’d like to put on slacks, a cardigan, a little straw hat, and sunglasses, and go see “The Book of Mormon.”

I worry about tweeting a sexy photo and seeing the headline: “THE POPE’S ANKLES!”

I tell other religious leaders their version of God is as valid as mine, but then I twirl and ask, “But who’s He takin’ to prom, huh?”

I met the Dalai Lama and he was so nice, but all I could think was, Sandals? In January? Really?

Every day I offer up a special prayer for the entire Kardashian family, but the next morning they’re always still alive.

I loved that best-seller about the boy who momentarily died and went to Heaven, but all I wanted to ask was, “Did He say anything about me?”

I counsel couples who are about to marry, “If it feels good, stop.”

Nancy Grace: perfect name for a gay Pope? ♦