Easter Sucks Dick.

I’m kind of a grumpy jerk when it comes to family gatherings. As much as I love my extended  family and my wife’s family, I just don’t enjoy any gathering that is REQUIRED. I suck at being told what to do, which is probably why I don’t work in sales or the tech sector any more.

I understand Christmas and Thanksgiving and SOME birthdays, but not every single birthday and I honestly would love to see what a quiet and intimate Christmas would be like with just myself, my wife, and our daughter. Just once. But New Year’s Day isn’t a holiday to me, it’s a recovery period. Halloween isn’t a holiday, just a chance to look creepier than normal and for people to get fatter. St. Patrick’s Day isn’t a holiday because it’s centered around Irish people. Independence Day is dumb, and it’s the day after my birthday and I cannot tell you how many times people have shafted me in lieu of some silly firecracker bullshit. But I’m not bitter. Then there’s Easter.

Easter sucks a huge cock. Fuck Easter. I hope Easter dies and doesn’t get resurrected*.

First of all there’s the religious aspect, something I automatically rebel against, but only because I’ve actually done the time and came to my own conclusions. It’s not a blind repulsion but rather one built on a steady diet of Catholic masses, Catholic school days, Baptist school days, Baptist sermons, and even a few Lutheran ones thrown in for good measure. My problem ain’t with God or people that need that fella to get by. My problem is with the organized aspect of it and the silly rituals and rules that are value added.

Easter is most obviously a very religious holiday, weakly masked for the innocent with bunny rabbits and chocolate and innocent games of hide and seek.

I am of course, forced to spend Easter with family. I love them. They are terrific people. The problem ain’t with THEM. It’s with ME. They make amazing food too, and holidays are times when nothing is spared. Which is another problem with Easter…

The menu sucks a baby’s cock. Fucking HAM? Ham is something you eat on the periphery. Something to tide you over on Thanksgiving until the real food comes out. It’s something you slice and shove in an omelet or cure and throw onto a pizza. Or carve a fuckhole into and go to town on. I close my eyes and pretend I’ve abducted Wilbur and am becoming as close to him as Charlotte was. Ham as the main course is dumb. Fuck ham. It’s silly and too gelatinous to be considered great meat. Unless it’s really dry and tough. Then ham is not only my friend but worth a few rounds of gnawing on. Even then, it’s a fucking sidebar. Ham is to a meal like holding hands is to sex. It’s a nice gesture but it’s not what gets people to the shunting any faster.

Easter also requires prayer. Another thing that rocks my lumps. My wife knows better than to ask me to go to church, but I feel like a Communist spy in a prayer circle because though I’m not disrespectful I fit in like a platypus in a flock of geese. I play for a co-ed team in a church league on Friday nights and the postgame prayers make me want to shrink and be shot into Martin Short’s ass.

The problem is most definitely with me. I should just enjoy the togetherness and warm interaction but I can’t. I want to get together with these people FOR NO REASON. Because we want to. Not because it’s what we’re told we’re supposed to do. And I don’t want to get all dressed up for it. Don’t wanna eat no ham. Don’t wanna tell my daughter how I really feel about that Easter Bunny asshole.

I just want baseball season to start so I can spend my Sunday afternoons doing something that’s actually spiritual. Sorry.

- Nick Nunziata is on very little medication.

*If they’d combined Easter and Halloween and played on the zombie aspect of the source material I’d probably be down with it.