Happy Easter… Sometimes I feel like the only think that resurrects on Easter is a priest’s robe when he gets a throbbing hard-on from a tantalizing, pre-pubescent altar boy. I despise the idea of Easter, though I do like dying Easter eggs and having a good brunch, but the concept of a “resurrection” is rather sickening to the soul. The only time the word resurrection should be used is when describing zombies, or a cumbersome man’s flaccid penis. The day makes no sense, in fact, the day it’s celebrated upon fluctuates like a promiscuous girl’s period and is the only loose thing about the Christian religion – besides an old, flatulent nun’s pussy.
In the olden days it was called the ‘white week’ which probably wouldn’t fly right now due to political correctness, racism and the fact that all the 52 weeks that make up a year in America are the so-called “white week”. And yes, there are 52 weeks in a year, just in case you’re like myself and lack simple math skills and had to use a search engine to find that fun fact – even Alexa asked me if it was a real question – that heedless cunt.
It is rumored (just like everything else the bible is based upon) that Lent, the 40 day period where you reflect and have penance – which I might add shares the synonym self-punishment, was created due to Jesus’ 40 day journey into the woods while he was repetitively tempted by the devil. What the devil tempted him with, who knows, but being that any NATURAL HUMAN EMOTION is pretty much a sin according to Christianity and you must feel bad for it, because the Christians loves when you feel bad for the shit you did, or even the shit you didn’t do; I am rather doubtful that Jesus encountered any devil in the woods, other than seeing that whore Mary Magdalen getting bukakked by a group of angry Crusaders. I think I’m overlapping timelines to keep things interesting (reference X-men), which is impossible to do when you take the bible literally – it’s very illiterate.
And with all honesty I do think the Virgin Mary was actually a virgin – to an extent. I have a theory that I have developed over the years; it begins with a watering hole forested with heavy brush, with only one massive rock overlooking the thick shrubbery. Beautiful virgin women would bathe at this watering hole; they would undress and release their flowing bush hair into the air – splashing each other and have a good old time. Little did these virgins know, in the bushes (not their bushes), the green and vibrantly-shrubbed bushes – something was lurking. One day, a woman by the name of Mary, was walking through the woods and came upon the tall rock that overlooks the bath area. She climbed upon the rock, took off her lightly flowing dress and sat down; soaking in the vitamin-rich sun that they say gives cancer. Who is they? That’s a story for another day. Anyway, befuddlement fills her face; she rises to her feet and sees that she sat in something – a pile of white-sticky goo, oh my! That was the day the rock earned the name Bukakke Rock, and that was also the day when the Blessed Virgin Mary was immaculately conceptualized – stripping her of virginity and drowning her in the cum lottery of the horny Christian men that beat their dick overlooking the waterhole at Bukakke Rock.
The End… or is it?
Have a Happy Easter! If you still have the ashes on your head from Ash Wednesday then you’re a fucking asshole. Don’t make everyone else suffer because you decided to give up showering for Lent! You stinky prick.