As I do every morning, I stepped out of the house with a pipe. Gentleman across the street vocalizing (sing-moaning) into a parking meter opposite my building. Drugs? A fit? spiritual agony? Angst? Sometimes I do not know what to make of this city.
Perhaps he was lamenting the death of our lord and saviour the Easter Bunny. Who will be reborn tomorrow morning in time to deliver painted eggs, after which we'll kill him and have rabbit stew for dinner.
As you can tell, I'm just filled with holiday spirit. Overflowing with it.
Not as bad as some people, who have been singing Easter Carols for over a month now.
And hanging festive wreaths of cucumbers and dried fish around the house.
Plus adding food colouring to the egg nog. As per ancient tradition.
Little kiddies just love sampling coloured egg nog.
The more colours, the more sampling.
And the merrier.
The aromas of nutmeg, cloves, and cinnamon, fill the houses.
Bay leaves, and garlic. Perhaps junniper berries.
Everybody has their own festive family recipe for jugged hare.
As you can tell, I'm not buying into this made-up holiday.
It's just another excuse for frat boys to get drunk.
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