Normally I let the "Easter Season" slip by as another spoon fed "Holiday" with solace in knowing the Christians weren't completely successful in burying its pagan roots.
This year however, I kept being subtly reminded that this is a big-deal weekend for the religious sort.
At least, I think they were subtle reminders.
It very well could have just been the recent full moon, or the fact that I work in Quincy where Good Friday is "The drinkingest holiday since St.Patrick's Day."
I learned the other night that my gal's mom would make her & her siblings remain completely silent between noon and three on Good Friday because that's apparently the time Jesus was, you know, nailed to a tree for telling people how neat it would be if we were all nice to each other. (Thank you Douglas Adams)
I mentioned this to someone this morning who was completely familiar with the practice.
This blows my mind.
Noon and three?!?!
Some of these people are so fanatical that they think they know the time of death?!?!
You would think, for the sake of authenticity, you'd want to reflect on the EXACT time of suffering, which I'm pretty certain didn't happen in the Eastern Time Zone.
I won't even bring up the Gregorian calendar.
Then again, geography dictates Jesus wasn't white either....but no one would ever buy that.
There's no denying he has one hell of a P.R. machine.
My next little "Easter Moment" (I'll call it) came around 10:30.
I had mentioned to someone I work with that every Friday morning the DJ on the radio station my alarm is set to says, "It's a good Friday morning..." which always confuses me in to thinking it's Easter no matter that time of year.
As I am telling her this she grabs her throat and yells, "Oh my God, it's Good Friday! I just ate meat! Shit! SHIT!!"
I tried my best to calm her by assuring her God doesn't really care what you've had for breakfast but she was still flustered.
Suddenly, I had a stroke of genius.
I had the answer, I was there to save the day.
"Well, if you feel that bad about it, we can always go get your stomach pumped!"
With that she stopped and stared at me as though I had spat on the floor.
We spent the next 3 hours arguing, yelling and waving picket signs at each other about when digestion actually begins.
Does it start the minute the food hits your stomach....or during (please forgive me for this) the evacuation?
I finally put a lid on all this hearsay and folklore a little later in the afternoon when I had to tell a salty old woman from Quincy her license plate frames would prevent her from getting an inspection sticker.
I tried to explain to her (Her name was Margret, but aren't they all?) the Registry of Motor Vehicles no longer allows frames to cover any of the words on the plate.
She of course, was convinced either the state, or I, were singling her out because the frame said "Pro-Life."
I assured her neither the state, nor I, cared what sort of opinion she aired on her Toyota as long as we could both read her license plate.
She then pointed to one of those magnet ribbon things on her trunk that says, "Choose Life" and while shaking her fist tells me, "Well, if anyone makes me take this off I'll...."
I looked her dead in the eyes and said, "You'll kill them?"
With that she shook my hand and said, "You've been nothing but grand through this rotten stinking mess."
A bit dramatic I know, but I'll still call it "Quote of the Day."
Thanks for the picture Bridge....I love it.