The AF / Apollonian allegiance will happen and The Pope will say it is forboden, that it is calumny. The Whore of Babylon herself will descend upon him, nay, and he will drink from the coveted cup. "Mmmm", he licks his lips, a white Chicago beckoning on the horizon. A roman towel boy, green of eye and freckled of cheek, hands him a deep dish pizza, "this one's on the house, my liege"
"Oh" he says in a solemn tone, the pre-cum dripping from his seldom used member. "So this is what I've been denying all the nation's people" he lets out a laugh "*heh*, maybe the apple was worth the garden afterall'
"Dionysus, take me!"
He is swept away on a white silk pallet, 4 vantablack slaves drenched in summer sweat carry him off to a Stammtisch party where narry a solar particle will enter.