And it's Esther for Easter, the fertility goddess. There was a lot of fucking back then when they celebrated Esther and Christian Rome couldn't stomp out a good party so they gave it a new name. Love it. And what a way to celebrate Spring.
I still get some fools who send me these really stupid E-mail Religious cards and I thank them with:
"Thank you for reminding me that Jesus leaves the pit and ascends into the heavens on Sunday. He told me before his untimely demise, that on the way up, he's going to drop a big fat ham in our barbecue. And just before he enters heaven, he will announce, 'Eat this ham in remembrance of me.'"
"I don't care if he is Jewish, the guy is alright!"
We're doing a barbecue, the ham of course, thanks to that unfortunate Jew boy that made Mel Gibson shoot his wad filming him being whipped. And we know Mel's a just a big ole girl wanting to get fisted, so we gay boys party with, yams and collard greens to go with the ham. Dafney made a bundt cake, I made a raspberry sauce to go with it. Margaritas--got it all chillin' in the fridge.
The garden is fucking beautiful. I'll tell ya, chicken shit in the compost is the best. The Columbine is incredible. Years of cross-breeding has brought a real show of these beauties this year. And the vegetable garden pops. We had a salad from it tonight.
So here's to all the gods that claim Spring a good time to Party. Party on Esther, Party on Jew-boy in heaven, and thanks for the ham!
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