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Hey, it’s almost April folks. Do you know what that means? It means that people the world over start thinking about things like spring, baseball, planting tulips, and Passover. But not me. No sir. Instead, I start having visions, visions of Easter, and boy do I have a few thoughts on that subject.
Good thing too, otherwise this post would be a bust.
Take for instance, Jesus Christ Superstar. The one who refused a standard movie studio contract, shunned publicity, and then went rogue. And to think that that’s “The Greatest Story Ever Told” and this blog can’t touch it. And you wanna know why?
Copyright laws. That’s right, and not just any copyright laws, but copyright laws of biblical proportions!
Then there’s those Easter eggs. No, not those Easter Eggs silly—more about those in a moment. I’m talking about those other Easter eggs, you know the ones… the Faberge Imperial Easter Eggs. The jewel encrusted ones made for the emperor and empress of Russia, way back when. Yeah, those Eggs.
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For some stupid reason I never got one of those at Easter time. What a gyp that was!
And that brings me back to those other Easter Eggs, the ones I mentioned earlier. Did you know that when I was a kid, the (slightly) above average kids would always get Easter Baskets filled with multi-colored plastic eggs in them?
Well now you know.
Anyway, they never failed to be filled with candy and toys. A U.S. version of AA grade Easter eggs perhaps?
Then there was the average kids. Those kids whose parents took time to dye shells of real eggs in different colors. Then these parents would go hide them for their kids to go find? I suppose they were the Easter version of U.S. Grade A eggs. Then there was me. All I ever found were the egg shells!
I’m almost certain they were low grade eggs.
Still, I love to think back to Easter and the ham. No, not Jim Carrey (the ham), hamming it up in “Batman Forever” as the Riddler. I’m talking about those Honeybaked ham’s that your mom used to bake on Easter Sunday, the smell of which was as delicious as the taste itself.
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And naturally, no Easter post would be complete without mentioning the big guy himself.
But enough about Me.
Let’s talk about the Easter Bunny, shall we? That famed pooka of lore.
One day every year, he travels around the globe hiding colorful looking Easter eggs for all good little girls and boys to find. Adults? Forget about it. Anyway, most of the time they find lots of candy inside, and occasionally they come across one with a toy.
But, every once in awhile they might find one filled with money. Yeah, guess the yoke’s on them.
I’ve often wondered how one would go about getting a job like that—particularly if one were a rabbit? What might one earn? Does one need references? Where would one get those references—especially a rabbit? And could I be one—a rabbit I mean? I like carrots, eat lots of lettuce (my mom and dad made me), and my wife say’s I have big ears.
Now I ask you; what other qualifications does one need to be the Easter Bunny? So yes, I’m going to answer that help wanted ad when the position opens up. In the meantime…
Have a Happy Easter everyone!
In My Cluttered Attic 