“But Joe…you’re an atheist!”
Yes. Yes I am. But, keep in mind, in the Bible, when the bunny hopped from his lair and began pooping out colored eggs, the children of the land of milk and honey woke from their slumbers. They climbed from their hewn rock beds, covered in dust, and walked to the kitchen table. There before them lay baskets of jelly beans, mixed up in the most shiny of plastic confetti. Digging a little deeper, the little children uncovered the stickiness of a Peep, melted onto the bottom of the basket from the desert heat.
No matter. They popped Peeps in their little mouths, Easter grass and all, and swallowed. Easter was here.
Yes, I know the Christian tradition of Easter. I’ve written extensively in my old and dusty corner of the interwebs on why I think the barbaric and bloody mess of Christianity’s human sacrifice necessity is well…barbaric and a bloody mess. So I don’t give a rats two shits on the true meaning of the holiday.
For most of us, anyway (me not included), it’s a time to dress up in ugly clothes and go to church the first of two times we’ll attend this year, providing fodder for the fire and brimstone Baptist preachers, yelling insults at their congregation, deploring the idea that “going to church twice a year will get you into heaven.” I mean, seriously…Jesus fucking Christ, that Billy Sunday shit is so old school. Do you really think, with the proliferation of information and general religious knowledge all over the internet, people don’t know the Baptist con job of the salvation riddle?
You know the one. An all powerful and all knowing god, cannot simply NOT ALLOW sin to manifest itself in the world, and is forced to carry out a human/god sacrifice. And even then, you don’t get to go to heaven. Whatever…I can hear the spaghettified hoops the religious are jumping through in their minds, rolling their eyes at me, wondering why I don’t just accept that I need to drink blood and eat flesh, then look judgingly upon a National Geographic picture of naked cannibals in the Amazon jungle.
I mean, don’t they know the sanctity of life? You know, like God feels about it. So much so that he forced Pharaoh’s heart to harden and not let the Israelites leave Egypt, carrying out the killin’ of the first born of every family, so that “they may see my signs and wonders and know who I am.”
Yeah God, we see who you are. Nothing I would want to be or have anything to do with. You have more in common with Ted Bundy than a rabbit has with an egg.
Oh…and I’m going to be doing my annual golden egg hunt with my religious in-laws. I love doing that every year.