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A third attempt at this blogging business. |
30DBC PROMPT: "Convince me that the Easter Bunny is for real. Explain the relationship between Jesus, and the Easter bunny, and how this holy holiday of Easter has come to be celebrated in the twenty first century - more than two thousand years later. Bonus question: How do chocolate and painted eggs figure into the equation?" ** Image ID #1984335 Unavailable ** Hey folks! Sorry it's been so long...I haven't been in the mood to do much of anything lately, including taking part in the festivities down at "Invalid Item" ![]() In case you're wondering, this Mary Muggingsworth you've heard us speak of on occasion is a real person. No joke (contrary to what the title of this entry says). We dare not speak her name in certain circles; I know of people who have avoided certain events on WDC because of her presence, and at least one friend of mine has chosen no longer to be a part of this website in part because of her rather childish and eccentric no, her flat out batshit crazy behavior. Luckily, she's blocked a few of us already from viewing her portfolio and participating in her overall outlandishness, but at times when her name has come up I've strongly suggested the opposite of a glowing reference on her behalf...which is why I rarely speak of her unless she's spoken about first. And with that, I'll say no more and turn my attention to items of more importance. This Easter Bunny thing...yes, we know he's not real (Spoiler Alert for those of you under the age of, like, eight who are reading this...but if that is the case, I suggest you immediately close your browser or whatever and consult an adult who actually cares about you enough to make sure you're not reading this). I have no other way into or around this topic. I'm not good at making things up (as you'll find out later on in this entry). Instead I'll share with you a story from my past, if that's alright with you guys. I don't know how old I was exactly, but it was that "on the fence" age where you're not entirely sure whether to believe mythical beings like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are real. You want to hold on to that last thread of childhood, yet still look tough at the bus stop in front of the kids who think you're a pussy if you're proclaiming it's the bunny leaving the candy and not your folks. So the night before that Easter Sunday, I went to sleep with nervous anticipation like I'm sure many kids do...and I woke up in the middle of the night, or did I? I wasn't sure if I was having a nightmare, or if I was hallucinating, or both, but I was in a kind of a shock/panic state...in the dark without my glasses on I could see this weird cross between the Pink Panther and the bunnies Snoopy danced with in the Charlie Brown Easter Special (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRwsTyUPIYE), holding a basket with eggs, chocolates and fake grass dancing flippantly just outside of my bedroom. And being the little wuss I was, I probably started crying because I didn't know what else to think. From that night on, every Spring around Easter until we moved out of that house, I would see that same vision. It became less frightening, but it still was kinda spooky because I'd remember how evil it looked, even if I knew it meant no harm. Immediately in my head I'd hear the Charlie Brown music (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBPcoI4OE9Y) and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep peacefully. I think I failed the first part of the prompt, because I don't find any correlation between Jesus and the Easter Bunny, nor can I feel confident in trying to convince anyone there's such a thing as either Jesus or an Easter Bunny. I know, sacrilege!! But let's put my disbeliefs aside, please, and focus now on the latter portion of this prompt, kay? "Easter Egg Hunts" in the later portion of the 20th century through today, from my experience, are anything but. And it's surprising that some of them can actually be ran by churches, no less. Long gone are the days eggs (of any nature, chicken-based or plastic) are hidden...now it's a raffle instead. Pay your admission fee, get some tickets, and sit and wait for your number to hopefully be called. What a bunch of bullshit! That's not fun for kids, and if anything, it just introduces them to entry-level gambling. There's nothing remotely "hunt" about it. Last I checked, sitting still and being quiet weren't the same as traipsing over some open field hoping to find eggs of any kind. There's no Jesus in that! And what was our reward for being well-behaved (because nobody won the mega-big bunny unless they knew someone runnin' the foolishness)? We could go to church. To get our baskets blessed. On a Saturday. Mind you, this was the day before the longest mass of the Catholic year. And Lord, He of all people, knows, there ain't no candy waitin' for you at the end of the basket blessin'. There's, in my case, nightmares. I won't even go into the whole "Easter Best" attire, because I'm feeling the weight of the traumatization in recalling the events as it is...and I can't imagine what it musta been like for all y'all Catholic kids of any denomination that had to dress like every day was a church-goin' occasion. As I got older and Easter turned into another gift-giving, Hallmark-sponsored holiday extravaganza, one thing became prevalent: people spend money on this and take it seriously. I...don't. But I'm still into the tradition of the hiding of Easter baskets...that never seems to grow old. Maybe it's all the time I spent in retail, making sure other people could have the experiences they wanted to have...being on the business end of it. Suffering for the almighty dollar in companies that couldn't give a damn what your holiday plans were while making sure you knew the CEO extended his wishes before he spent copious amounts of time nailing his assistant carving a pineapple-glazed ham with his family. Ain't no Jesus up in that, either. Sorry not sorry if you're offended by my take on this holy time of year. Years of therapy and counseling peeling back the layers of the onion still reveal an onion, I guess. That doesn't stop me from shoveling Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs down my gullet...hands down...best time of year for seasonal treats. BCF PROMPT: "This is Palindrome Week: 4/13/14, 4/14/14, 4/15/14, 4/16/14, 4/17/14, 4/18/14, 4/19/14 - Write a short story or a poem whose title is a palindrome about this week." Ok, so, I'm not into writing "short stories" because a blog in my opinion isn't designed for that. A blog already is a short story unto itself. I'm not gonna debate the merits of one over the other or the hows and whys or why nots. Not the time nor place. I will admit that the thought of this week's dates being a palindrome was kinda fun...until I saw about 294 Facebook posts about it, and that sort of repetition kills me in ways I'm not already dead inside from. So what I'm about to do...is something I don't do very often. It was the early hallmark (not the company...Google the definition if you have to because I won't insult your intelligence otherwise) of my WDC days...I'm gonna invent a poem on the spot, in this open text box, live, no notes or edits. Just like I did back in the days of "The Computer Age" ![]() Palindromeda A star is born the day one dies. We don't have access to meanings that aren't slanted otherwise. We know what we're told, and what we're given, but there's too many of so many to keep track of properly. A star, a symbol, a martyr; born the day our youth dies. We don't know how or why. Beginning to end and back again, our mark is more of what we become and less of what we leave behind. The slashes and spots paint us like the same stars we see dying as another one starts to grow. Don't be the fade... be the reason. The comeback of something that wasn't supposed to go away. A star being born on the day like any other day of them has no reason not to be seen as it is. Not until you drop and start back from where you came. MUSICAL BREAK!! I...no, I'm gonna be blunt. Charlie ~ ![]() ![]() So, ahem, yeah, anyway...Soul Coughing was genius back in the late nineties...fell in love with this band and the poetics of the lyrics against the musicality of the band...I'm feeling deflated as I type. THE DAILY BOX SCORE: ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Whew! I guess it's not that bad, doing this when it's not totally expected (although I feel terrible about not having an entry on the ready for "Invalid Item" ![]() |