Easter is the day where Christians celebrate the zombification of Jesus Christ following his brutal torture and murder three days prior by pretending that a giant rabbit hides a bunch of eggs, and in families where the ideas are most twisted, basically serves as a second Santa Claus by leaving gifts and candy for the children.
My family treats the Easter Bunny like Santa Claus, and the two are pretty much identical from the child’s view, except that the Easter Bunny is Santa Claus Lite and doesn’t leave nearly as much stuff. After waking up to a few toys and a fair bit of candy, my family usually has some minor function, during which the adults hide a bunch of eggs–including one Surprise Egg that contains money (usually $5)–in obvious places for the kids to find. Since the kids range in age from 1 to 7 years old, that kind of makes sense, but the whole thing has gotten really stupid.
My sister uses such holidays to show off how spoiled her kids are, by giving them an obscene amount of stuff at the family function, even though the vast majority of it would have been given better at home. One year, P. and C. gave their granddaughter an Xbox 360. The next Christmas, my sister gave her son a PS4. This was clearly something that she should have given him at their house, but no… She chose to give it at the family function, as well as about a dozen other toys. The end result was that her son still had 7 or 8 gifts left when everyone else was finished. It was obnoxious and embarrassing; I was genuinely embarrassed for what she had done, but she didn’t even see anything wrong with it.
It always amuses me when Christians–like the looney ones who support Ted Cruz (because Christians have it so hard in the U.S….)–talk about the War on Christmas. It’s like, “Oh, that religious holiday that just ate secular Thanksgiving and extends well after secular New Years because lazy dipshits don’t take down their decorations? There’s a war on the holiday which has a shopping season that now starts before Halloween? Well, whoever is waging war against it must be the most ineffectual army in the history of the human race, because Christmas gets bigger, longer, greedier, fatter, and more repulsive every year.”
I hate Christmas. You may have noticed.
I don’t mind Christmas, to be clear. I’m an atheist, though, so I have no interest in celebrating Christmas. It’s Xmas that I hate, and I hate that Christians don’t seem to realize that they are the ones waging war on Christmas, because it hasn’t been Christmas in decades. It’s been Xmas. The increasing secularization and commercialization of Christmas has rendered its religious aspects obsolete, and Christians themselves, as the majority group in the country, are undoubtedly responsible for this. It’s hilarious that Santa Claus himself is, in fact, the perfect symbol of what Christmas has become: a fat old man obsessed with things.
Of course, I’m borderline Buddhist in how I eschew materialism. I have everything I want. Anything that I don’t have, I can take or leave–I would buy other things if they were available, but I don’t care enough to pursue them. I have a guitar, a GNX3, a bad ass PC, a television, a surround sound system, a vehicle, and a place to stay–and two cats, friends, and a few people with whom I can enjoy myself. What the hell else do I need? Sure, I’d always like to buy another guitar–and I can’t wait until Gibson has their sale this June, since they’re selling Gibson Les Pauls (for one day only) for the price they were in the 60s. That’s correct. For one day this year, you can get a Gibson Les Paul for like $138. You know I’m getting one of those. Or I’m going to try to, at least. Odds are that I won’t be able to, because everyone and their sister will be trying to get one, leaving people like me, who have always wanted a Gibson but never was able or willing to pay $3000 for one, out in the cold. But c’est la vie.
“Money is the root of all evil,” people like to say. Well, as usual, people are wrong. Money isn’t the problem.
Desire is the root of all evil. Money is merely a symptom of desire. It’s not money that causes the problem; it’s people’s desire for money. To say money is the problem is short-sighted, but humans have a long history of confusing symptoms for illnesses. Another one is when people say that taking God out of school is what caused the moral decay of society. While I think they’re wrong in every way, even if they were right about things, they would be wrong about the order of events–according to their worldview, society’s morals would have to decay first before people would be willing to take their god out of school. See? I’ve actually gotten theists to agree with that statement, and I always love it when they do, because my next response is predictable:
“So your god doesn’t prevent moral decay, then, right?”
Gotta love how easy it is to back theists into a corner.
My boobs have been hurting the past few days. It’s difficult, though, because my nipples are pierced, and I’m never completely sure if they’re hurting because the bars have twisted (this is quite common) or if it’s because, you know, hormones are causing awesome things to happen. But I can say without doubt: no. My boobs are just starting to hurt. 😀
It saddens me to bounce up and down and have my bra just remain in place. Having some jiggle will be fantastic.
It’s the small things in life.
Cubed3 posted one of my articles that I submitted to them a few weeks ago (evidently, the senior editors have been more or less away), and it is with extreme dismay that I’ve observed they routinely replaced “while” with “whilst.” You’d almost think I was making it up, so coincidental is the timing of that. It really does bother me to see something with my name on it published with the word “whilst” repeated throughout, and that awful word even appears in the opening sentence now. I have to ask again: what does “whilst” do that “while” doesn’t?
The answer is still “nothing.” The sole difference is that “whilst” gives the illusion of what many mistaken people recognize as “professionalism,” when the reality is that the masses have merely confused professionalism with pretentiousness–in the same way they have confused symptoms with illnesses, as I said above. There is nothing professional about inserting superfluously pretentious language in the hopes that it lends the appearance of credibility.
My cats are laying a damn smackdown on each other. Rainbow is so fluffy it’s hard not to pet her. And I swear, this is a million dollar idea: invent some little cat shoes that function like Swiffer pads. Put them on your cats. Then get a laser pointer. Then laugh at them as they chase the laser and mop your floor for you.
Junglebunny likes climbing into my recliner with me and just kinda throwing himself at me. It’s really funny watching him do it, because that’s a pretty appropriate description of what he does. He just kinda… tosses himself at me, flips onto his side, and lays against me. There’s absolutely no dignity in it, which is strange for a cat. Rainbow, though, is full of that typical cat dignity.
It’s actually rather painful, how my boobies hurt. It’s not actually the pierced nipples that hurt, though–it’s the fatty, fleshy part underneath, which I think is a good thing. Pretty distracting, though. Still, I’m happy about it.
I’m going to hang out with this new chick I met this coming Friday, and she’s going to help me with my eyeshadow, which I’m really looking forward to. I’m terrible at doing my eyeshadow, and she went to cosmotology school. It occurred to me recently, though, when someone asked me about lotions and Vitamin E, that, in what may be the most ironic thing I’ve realized this month, if you have questions about makeup or skin products, then you’ll probably do a lot better to ask a transgender person than a GG. Because GG (genetic girls) get their information from their mothers–it’s all hand-me-down information, and a lot of it is based on old wives tales, or just is simply false (like 90% of claims regarding aloe vera). Transgender people, however, tend to get their information from reputable sources. My mother didn’t teach me about mascara, so when I wanted to learn about it, I went online and listened to a professional cosmotologist explain it and demonstrate it.
It’s just funny.