Easter is approaching fast. I am hoping that even though I am over 250 years old, the easter bunny will mistake me for a small child and unload some eggs upon me. Easter Sunday is of course when our friend the Easter Bunny calls upon children of the world, injecting them with so much chocolate that they puke forth upon their parent’s best rug by 10:00am. While this is of course a joy to behold, there are other more traditional ways to celebrate Easter.
The run up to Easter really starts at Lent. For those of you who are new to all things Lent, listen up. Lent is a six-week period that ends on Easter Sunday. In these six weeks you are meant to deny yourself things you think you really can’t live without…like chocolate, wine, perhaps sex if you are getting any. The idea is that you get closer to God via prayer, penance, repentance of sins, almsgiving, atonement and self-denial. These days though only nuns are this hard core, there aren’t too many religious folk around anymore. Kids will swear they will give up chocolate and last a whole three hours before stuffing their head with a Mars Bar wrapped in a Snickers.
On Good Friday people are meant to fast…which is more like fast food these days. If you are super devout you will only have three sips of water (honouring the Holy Trinity) and one slice of bread. All I know is that if I don’t eat every 20 minutes, it is possible that people will die by my hand. It is godlier for me to consume meaty or carby goodness, by a long distance. But if you are devout, go forth with your three sips. You go live on the edge for all of us.
During Good Friday there is some suggestion that you were required to remain quiet from noon until 3pm. I think this should to apply to your mother-in-law, to your Nana and probably to Gerry Adams. Everyone else, continue to use your pie-hole.
All water from holy wells is said to have curative properties on Good Friday. Yes that funny rash you have in THAT place? Yes go find some holy water for the love of God.
After the harshness of Good Friday when we are expected to be GOOD (but at what?) it is time to let it all hang out on Easter Sunday. Easter Sunday the signal flare that alerts us that it is time to go back to stuffing our faces and general debauchery. So on Easter Sunday the family will come around, and everyone either brings their favourite food or makes everyone else’s favourite food. And then they might get a little drunk and get into a bar fight in the kitchen with their uncle who feels free to say whatever he likes after his 10thwhiskey, the crusty old fecker. Whatever food was given up for Lent, well this is the day to roll yourself all up in that stuff. You can go hard. If it was wine, bathe in it. If it was chocolate, cover yourself in it and lick it off your person for the rest of the afternoon. If it was whiskey, drink any in the house, and especially drink it so your crusty bar-fighting uncle doesn’t have any more. And if it was sex, please, PLEASE, do not write in to us and tell us about it.
Spring lamb is what is roasted these days for the Easter Sunday feast. However Lamb is now so damn expensive that it might be cheaper to go catch a few swans down the park and cook those bad boys. Both lamb and swan have equal stringiness so I think it’s possibly a victimless crime.
Some traditions have fallen by the wayside, however. This is because they are mostly boring and useless. The first tradition is that you are meant to clean your house thoroughly inside and out (better ring that cleaner from Georgia cos I know YOU ain’t gonna do it and she will). And if that isn’t enough, then you have to apply whitewash to the outside of your gaff. Well now that we don’t live in huts made of whatever the hell you are meant to whitewash, we are not doing this anymore. Which is a good thing, who needs a white house? None of us live on Capitol Hill. Let’s just settle the hell down.
A second tradition is to buy new clothes. I’m all for this one. I am a big fan of new clothes, and you can start wearing clothes that are a little more revealing because it is getting warmer. Men can dare to wear shorts and women can start baring their upper arms. Oh the excitement.
Another tradition that has fallen by the wayside on Easter Sunday is that of gathering the family together and going to a hilltop to see the sunrise. Catholics believed that this is the Saviour rising from his grave. But let me tell you this for free: if anyone wakes me on Easter Sunday before dawn they will never get to any damn hilltop ever again in their earthly life.
And of course you were meant to have a cake dance. The person with the smoothest moves gets the prize of a cake. I will do my dancing (interpreted as walking) to Supervalu to get a donut. Then Easter will have REALLY arrived.
Happy Easter readers!
Old Moore’s Almanac (hard copy circulation: 45,000)
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