The Story Of Easter (Repost)

Because I don’t piss off enough people in my day-to-day activities, I bring to you: The Story Of Easter!

DISCLAIMER: if you cannot handle inaccuracy and speculation in the name of humour and attempting to prove a point, stop reading this right now. Otherwise, read on and have a good laugh or two before I make you think at the end.


The Story Of Easter

This story takes place in Biblical Times (you know. . .when all the Bible stuff happened, specifically in the first four books of the New Testament).

Jesus, discounting all religious affiliations so as not to offend anyone, was a kind and caring man with miraculous abilities. (By the way, Jesus was black. Get over it.) He used his abilities, his gift of parable invention, and his strong faith in his deity to heal the sick, bring back the occasional dead person, and turn a Long John Silver’s snack pack into something that would feed the masses. Jesus, no matter what your particular religion is, was a good man.

However, the Romans felt their ways were threatened by the acts of Jesus and his apostles (in much the same way that allowing homosexual marriage threatens heterosexual marriage – some things never change). Before judging the Romans too harshly, let us remember that this is merely the way they were brought up: their upbringing conditioned them to see new ideas as a threat rather than accepting or at least tolerating them. So, you see, they weren’t really responsible for what they did, no more than, say, your average drug-dealing pistol-carrying gang member.

The Romans, acting as only their mental conditioning would allow them to, bribed the apostle Judas Iscariot. Normally, Judas would not betray Jesus, but his status as an apostle had cost him much in terms of finances, and so, to support his family and friends, he sang like a castrati on crack to the Romans.

Jesus was caught, tried, and convicted in an unfair court of law (no Amnesty International or ACLU back then, folks). His sentence was crucifixtion, and he was forced to walk to the spot with the crossbar on his back (the uprights were left standing between uses; the Romans were a bit lazy). It was a long, arduous trip, and he stopped on his journey only to sign a copy of the Old Testament for Roman Senator Strom Thurmond (something else that never changed).

On that cross, Jesus died (as crucified people tend to do). By the way, if I was Jesus, and I came back to Earth and all my so-called “faithful” were wearing a small symbolic representation of the weapon used to kill me around their necks, I’d be pissed. That’d be automatic damnation, in my book. You all had better hope I’m not Jesus returned, or you’re all screwed, Christians. Anyway, Jesus died and was buried in an earthen tomb, with a big rock placed across the entrance. A big rock. That’s it. The Roman idea of security was to put a big rock in the way. Thank God only the soldiers were strong enough to move it, so no one would go steal or loot the corpses or anything. That’s what I want when I die: to be placed in a cave with a big rock in the entrance. That oughtta keep the animals and insects out. But that’s a tangent. Back to the story.

Jesus was buried there after his death. The occasion is called Good Friday, and honest to goodness, I have no idea why the occasion of the death/interment of our savior is called Good Friday. When the stock market fell, it wasn’t called “Pretty Nice Monday (or whatever day it was; it’s five o’clock in the bloody morning as I’m writing this).” Maybe it should be called “Tragic Friday” or “Bloody Friday” or “Roman Oh-shit-what-did-we-just-do Friday.”

Three days later, on that Sunday morning. . .hang on. If anyone out there can add three days to Friday and come up with Sunday, you are either using “new math” (which i like to call by my pet name, “wrong”) or you know more about the Biblical calendar than I do. Yeah, I went to a Baptist university, but if you think a private Baptist university is going to give you an even slightly unslanted view of the Bible or of the times contained within, you’re using new math again. Plus, I was trying to figure out if it’s possible to be non-white and still sleep with uptight Christian women. (Hint: yes.)

Three days later, on Sunday morning. . .the Big Rock of Prudential Insurance rolled away from the tomb, to the astonishment of many onlookers, including a CBS camera crew that was doing on-location filming for “Messiah Screwed Over: The Story Of Jesus Christ” (an eight-hour television event. . .check local listings for time and date).

And when the rock rolled away, there stood. . .The Easter Bunny, bright and furry and wondering who’d put that big bloody rock in the door of his den. After getting medieval on the soldiers who put the rock there (despite the fact that medieval times hadn’t happened yet), the Easter Bunny then gave candy to all the children (which their parents took and ate, thus helping all the local dentists pay for their new Lexus chariots) and hid eggs for them to find and eat or open the inedible eggs for toys and more candy.

Not all of them could tell the difference between the edible and inedible eggs, and that’s why we have an appendix: it’s the evolved remains of little cheap plastic eggs that all those kids ate on that first Easter.

And so, the Easter Bunny brought cheer, joy, laughter, and smiles to children of all ages: even the Christians who fought the lions (no, not the Detroit Lions, though they really would have stood a better chance against them as long as they didn’t actually have to go into the city of Detroit. . .then they would be better off with the real lions) smiled as they went to their deaths (final score: Lions – untold thousands, Christians – 2).

And everyone forgot about Jesus.

April 22, 2000


5 Responses to “The Story Of Easter (Repost)”

  1. sweethoneylife Says:

    I was just wondering where the Easter Bunny came from; thank you for the informative blog. 😀

    And that is exactly why I do not own a crucifix. How morbid can one get?

    When I was a little girl, my grandmother had the typical blue-eyed, glossy-haired picture of Christ (with little footlights built into the frame) hanging above the television (so that he would bless the WWWF on Sunday evenings) and my friends who lived across the street from me had the same picture only Jesus’ skin was painted a milk chocolate color. I stared at it. It was weird. It was the same dude. I was boggled; which was the real Jesus? I don’t ponder this anymore, but I’ve read that scientists now theorize that he was neither black nor white but probably more like a typical Palestinian peasant of the era. Their rendering makes me think of Bluto. My father looked like Bluto and my grandpa looked like Popeye (he also did a pretty good impersonation and had the sailor tattoos and everything). I always knew my Papaw could kick my father’s ass if he wanted, even though he was smaller because he loved spinach and he had boxed for the navy. He almost did once and it was during a family Easter dinner and egg hunt. You probably thought I was digressing, but I brought it back around, sorta. 😉

  2. classicalgeek Says:

    1) I do know the answer to why it’s called “Good” Friday. (Actually, in the Eastern Orthodox church, it’s called “Great and Holy Friday” but that’s another story.) It’s called “Good Friday” because without Christ’s death, Christians believe, their salvation would not occur. Christ’s willing sacrifice makes their salvation possible. Therefore, it’s good for the Christians.

    2) The “three days” enigma starts with when it’s “day.” If you read in Genesis, you’ll notice that the days are counted from evening. “And there was evening and morning, the _____ day.” So, we have Friday at noon, when Christ died; Friday at sundown is the next day; Saturday at sundown is the next day. And the Bible actually says, “On the third day,” not “After three days”.

    It’s entirely likely that Jesus was indeed a Jew, born in Palestine, and therefore had Palestinian phenotypes. (In other words, He looked like a Palestine looks.)

  3. vagabondsaint Says:

    I gotta respond! *s*

    1) So Christians refer to it as “Good Friday” because it’s the day a man died to save them? It was most likely a pretty shite day for Christ, and isn’t He supposed to the loved and adored persona of all Christians? That’s would be a bit like black people calling the day of John Brown’s hanging “Good Friday,”* wouldn’t it? Like “Man, I’m glad that dude died. . .we’d have been screwed if he hadn’t.” That strikes me as being utterly selfish and again a celebration of the fact that a great, wonderful, and kind man died, no matter who His death benefitted. How much better would the world be if He had lived and continued spreading His message?

    2) I really think that time conversion should be made in modern printings of the Bible so as to avoid confusion.

    All that said, Jesus is Biblically described as having “skin the colour of ashes, hair like a sheep’s wool,” which would indeed make him fit the Palestinian phenotype. I meant “black” there in the sense of “not white, asian, latino, or Canadian, and with American attitides towards Muslims since 9/11 and Barack Obama constantly being accused of being a muslim, well, it would seem that “Muslim” is, indeed, the new “black.”

    By the way, Classical Geek has a listed in my blogroll, which I will be contributing to from time to time. . .check out more arguing there!

    I’m kidding. . .she’d slaughter me in a classical music argument.

    VS – 7.16.08

  4. classicalgeek Says:

    Honestly, VS, I’m really not into slaughtering people. I’d prefer to educate you 🙂

    I totally agree with you about “Good” Friday. We call it Great and Holy Friday, which is not in the sense of “Great! This is wonderful!” but great as in the third defintion at

    3: remarkable in magnitude, degree, or effectiveness;

    I would say that to translate it properly today you’d have to say it is “set apart.”

    One clarification . . . it’s not “entirely likely that Jesus was a Jew. . .” that part is not in doubt. What IS entirely likely is that Jesus had the Palestinian phenotype. That’s what I get for posting after three glasses of wine. 🙂

  5. vagabondsaint Says:

    And let that be a lesson to you, kids: never surf the web while drinking. All kinds of bad things can happen.

    VS – 7.22.08

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