Saturday, March 30, 2013

Happy Warmed-Over Easter Rerun


FROM THE PROPRIETOR:  The reader is hereby cautioned that the below is a repeat of a repeat of a repeat ("My GOD, Penwasser, how many times are you going to make us read this crap!?").  Since it's late and I have a headache and Mrs. Penwasser is almost asleep, I don't have a lot of time on my hands (Meaning: if I don't hurry and Mrs. Penwasser actually falls asleep, all I'll have are my hands).  So, yeah, you've read this before.  But, I have read it again and...maybe...I put in some new lines.  Or not.  Mrs. P is looking mighty sleepy, ya know.  So, sit back and enjoy (even that line is recycled!).  And, if you're so inclined to comment, please feel free to recycle your 

comment from last year.


Begin the repost...NOW!:

  For the sharp-eyed, this is a repeat of my repeat of my Easter post from last year.
  Sorry, this is pretty long, but sit back and enjoy.  Or skim though it and pick out something innocuous upon which to comment.  Then it'll make it seem as if you took the entire time to read with no one the wiser.


Starring the Son of God, Moses, and Chocolate Bunny Heads
 Even though the countdown to Easter Sunday is supposed to start after Ash Wednesday, it really begins when unsold chocolate Cupids at Wal-Mart are exchanged for countless herds of chocolate rabbits.
  It’s the most sacred of Christian holidays...which is somehow associated with bunnies, ducks, and chicks.  In fact, I was amazed at how happy those little animals seemed, considering that giving baby ducks and chickens to my brothers and I was tantamount to a death sentence. 

"If you want really good luck,
it's not my foot you have to rub."
    I've always been mystified as to exactly when Easter Sunday falls.      
    Based on the last full moon during leap year when the vernal equinox is on a Wednesday and the moon is in its summer house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, I always knew exactly when it was: March or April. 
    In any event, Easter was a glorious time of year, which started off with the traditional coloring of the Easter Eggs.
    Beginning with stern admonitions from my father to make sure we didn’t get dye all over the $20 table he bought at Railroad Salvage, our dipping-of-hen-fruit-in-colored-vinegar-water rituals started out serenely enough.  Until they degenerated into sloppy free-for-alls where we got more dye on each other than on the hard-boiled eggs.

"Man, this blows!
Glad we don't have to do 

this crap for Christmas.  
But, we can take off our shirts. 
Then beat the women."
    Satisfied with our work (and out of dye), we then seeded our garish prizes throughout the house in preparation for a family hunt the next day.  Nothing was off-limits as we deposited eggs in the most obscure places, all the while listening to our father boast he'd find the most eggs and make the finest egg salad in all the land.

    Unfortunately, nobody kept track of how many eggs were hidden or where they were laid.  This resulted in an incomplete tally, but we didn’t mind.  We had loads of other goodies with which to stuff ourselves.

    No worries.  Until our dog found an especially pungent bearded egg behind the stereo on Labor Day.   

    Eggs scattered, our excitement reached fever pitch as we knew that, come the dawn, we’d tumble down the stairs to see what the Easter Bunny had brought us.  A sort of off-season reenactment of the Christmas frenzy, Easter morn was a candy gorge-fest which propelled us into a frenetic sugar buzz not seen since December 25th.

"Sure, that big frikkin' showoff, Santa,
gets a sleigh and reindeer.
But, I get to sodomize the family pet."
    I never figured out the Easter Bunny’s deal.  Unlike Santa Claus, who slid his chubby keister down a chimney, Mr. Bunny seemed content with your basic, garden-variety breaking and entering.  

    We never left cookies and milk  and we never tried to stay awake to watch him deliver our presents.  Like the milkman, we just figured he’d automatically come through.

    Hmm, come to think of it, did that mean we didn’t trust Santa, considering we always wanted to remain awake to see him place our toys under the tree?  But, I digress...

    Speaking of a tree, the occasion of Easter didn’t offer up a central location for the rabbit to dump his loot.  I guess my parents were content to let him drop them wherever he found room.

"You mean I don't have to go to Tehran?
Thank Christ!  No pun intended."
    As far as Easter baskets went, he had quite a haul to carry.  The good news is that he only had to worry about Christian kids unlike Santa, who pretty much had the whole shebang.  Except the Middle East.  And possibly the Mormons.

    My point is that, while Jolly Saint Nick had a reindeer-drawn sleigh, what’d the Easter Bunny have?  That’s right-nothing.  He couldn’t even rent a Pacer, so he had to haul everything around on his back.

    No wonder he never went “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

    Our baskets overflowed with all manner of sweets.  Sure, there were the proverbial candy Easter eggs (also known as chocolate “footballs” at Christmas) and jelly beans, but my favorite had to be the chocolate bunnies.

Even little Jeffy Dahmer loved Easter
    What kid didn’t delight in first lopping off the hapless candy rabbit’s ears-“Look, Mom, a squirrel!”?  This confectionary mutilation was then followed by the rabbit’s ritual decapitation, leaving only a headless lump.  What a sad end for a creature whose only crime was being placed in a drugstore candy aisle a few days before.

    I remember being disappointed that my bunnies were hollow.  I would have much preferred they’d be solid, although I probably would have broken my teeth gnawing on a fifteen pound hunk of chocolate.  But, on the bright side, I’d have had enough sugar to keep me buzzing until Columbus Day.

4 out of 5 dentists
recommend Peeps
    Licking our lips as we finished savaging our Brer Rabbits (or the equally delicious Lucky Ducks), we then turned our attention to little chocolate-covered rabbit/duck/chick marshmallows and the yellow sugar balls known as Peeps.  
  As we sadly hit the bottom of our baskets, we knew exactly what to do with the black licorice jelly beans and candy-coated almonds:  fling them at our little brother, Gary.
  Our mouths ringed in melted chocolate, our teeth encrusted with Peeps detritus, and our vision blurred, we blearily glanced at the clock above the television.  Wow, not even eight o’clock.

  In other words, as our mother cheerfully announced from the kitchen, “Okay, kids, time for church!”

  The real reason for the day, we dutifully trooped off-usually through snow-to the nine o’clock Mass at Saint Stanislaus.
  It was here we came crashing down from our candy rush as we struggled to stay awake during Father Karl’s sermon, Peter Cottontail, Satan With Cottonballs.  The good news is this was one of the two times (the other being Christmas) that Mom was successful in forcing our father into church.

"Once this is over, 
I'm going to totally rock 
that Lily Munster gig."
    Usually, he was content to watch The Ten Commandments or Ben Hur and call it even.
NOTE:  The Ten Commandments pulled double-duty as it was good for Easter and Passover.  That Cecil B. DeMille was a marketing genius!
    As he liked to say, “I used to be a practicing Catholic, but I got good at it.  The ‘Lord’ doesn’t need me anymore."

  Even so, I bet the Lord would have still wanted him to put on some pants while watching TV.

    After an hour’s worth of guilt, we headed back home to finish off any candy we had so carelessly missed earlier that morning.

    Mom, meanwhile, began intense preparations for the Easter “feast.”

    For some reason, ham was always the meat of choice to celebrate Easter.  Unlike the pterodactyl-sized turkey we devoured at Christmas, it seemed appropriate to give equal time to eating the flesh of another barnyard animal.
"No, you tell the old lady
with the babushka that this isn't her bus stop."
  Of course, it could also have been a subconscious “up yours!” to our Jewish friends.      

  But, I thought it had more to do with the fact that my mother didn’t have to defrost a ham for three days, pull its gizzards out, stuff any available cavity she found with Wonder Bread, and start cooking it before the sun came up.

    After all, that was only for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

    No, cooking ham and potatoes from a box was a whole lot easier.  In fact, it wasn’t until I grew up that I realized ham didn’t even come in a can.

"Whaddya mean, I'm Jewish? 
I thought I was Catholic. 
This is Easter, isn't it?"
    Eventually, the joy which is Easter drew to a close.  As we sat transfixed by the litter of candy corpses and the sight of Charlton Heston shoving a stick at the Red Sea, a sad thought struck us like a lightning bolt from the blue:

    No more chocolate bunnies for another year.     

    Whew.  Thank goodness for Halloween.

Happy Easter!


Tomorrow:  The A-Z Challenge starts!  At press time, I have no idea what my post will be.  Presumably 
something to do with the letter 'A.'


Okay, since I'm posting this on Saturday and not Sunday, the challenge does NOT start tomorrow.  And I know what my 'A' post will be about now:  Afghanistan.  Hope you have a great holiday.  And, to my Jewish friends, you still have a couple days of Passover.  You lucky chosen ones, you.


  1. Yeah, the Easter bunny seriously has a bad deal going on there. What bunny in his right mind would keep coming back to have body parts chomped off? Have a great Easter!

    1. I know, it's not like anyone is going after Santa's ears.

  2. I remember this Al but don't worry buddy it still made me laugh! I know how much you guys dig Easter over in America and hope that you and your family have a great time!

    1. I'm watching The Ten Commandments right now and started giggling when they showed Sephrah, Moses, and Joshua looking up. When I said, "Well, whaddya know, monkeys can fly." (remember this from my Passover Post?) and started laughing, Mrs. Penwasser thought I was nuts.

  3. This was even funnier the second time around. Happy Easter.

    1. Thanks! I'm looking forward to reading your blog again after my week off.
      So let it be written, so let it be done.

  4. That was so long, I'm too pooped to comment! lol

  5. I would recycle my comment but I'm actually too lazy to load up the old post, or the old old post. I still have no idea when Easter falls either. It's weird too because today (the 30th) is my brothers birthday and sometimes his birthday falls on Easter. I have no clue how this works.

    1. I think I have it: it's the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox.
      Or tomorrow.

  6. Still fun every year and now I know three that will come when the a to z is near haha

    1. Hopefully, I don't let my slip show again or there will be four.

  7. First time I have seen this so I am glad you did a repost.........hope your Easter is fantastic just like mine has been

    1. I'm happy that a repost is new to you. I'm starting to warm my engines for the challenge!
      My Easter was a peaceful time at home. While my son is at college seven hours away, our daughter is only an hour so she had dinner at home. :-)

  8. For the first time ever, there is nobody from the US looking over here. Australia, there's 3 of you (it's already April where you are, huh?)
    Of the rest: Poland-1, India-1, and (of course) Russia-1.
    The A-Z Challenge will commence in 7 hours and 15 minutes.
    I'm all tingly.
    Maybe I should have that checked out?