I wanna talk about Easter.
It’s a weird holiday. I’m not talking about the bigger, religious aspects of Easter here. I’m talking about the bunny who wants to be Santa Clause, plastic eggs filled with money, and Cadbury deliciousness. When you grow up, you contemplate this whole commercialized Easter thing and as you do, you realize just how much it really doesn’t belong anywhere in the realm of logical-ness. It’s maybe even a little “Alice in Wonderland Down the Wormhole”-y? Now don’t get me wrong–I cannot wait to have kids and totally play up the hallmark part of Easter to its fullest. But let’s all take a moment and really let it sink in as to how kooky commercial Easter is.
I’m not writing to educate you on where the commercial part of Easter came from, but here is a link to all the info on the odd, and somewhat chaotically nonsensical origins of where it supposedly may have come from: Easter Bunny Origins (Rabbits, fertility, and hermaphrodites all bundled up into one, colorful straw Easter basket—you’re welcome)
We will start on a positive note. Obviously the best thing about hallmark Easter that needs absolutely no explanation for where it came from or why it exists is REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUP EGGS.
Now, moving on to why commercial Easter can be pretty bizarre and even a tad bit creepy.
1.) The Easter Bunny.
He wants to be Santa Clause way too hard, but it’s just not panning out for him. There could be $100 bucks in that toy egg he’s trying to push on me, but it’ll never make him the reigning supreme of all holidays—Christmas. Nobody is stealing Santa’s spot—who do you think you are, Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas? You’re out of your league, bunny. Not to mention the most obvious, freakish detail about the Easter Bunny: he lays eggs? What? Anyone who has ever owned a pet rabbit knows that the only egg-ish shaped things a bunny is laying is its turds—and by the thousands. And guess what? No prizes inside those “eggs”. And rabbits are the least kid-friendly animal! They hop around impregnating every thumper they can get their little paws on. AND the mall Easter Bunny is the scariest damn sight in the world—admit it, you still have nightmares about the 7-foot-tall hare that smells like soured Cadbury eggs and tries to sit you on his lap with those sweaty faux fur gloves.
So let’s face it: in reality, the Easter Bunny is really just an olympic running harlot who has irritable bowel syndrome.
2.) Peeps. You’re eating a treat that is shaped like a baby animal. You can’t even use denial to your advantage like you can with scrambled eggs because it looks just like a little chick. The Peep even has these black eyes that have an infinite, unmoving stare on you as you debate whether to bite its head off first or stick it in the microwave to laugh at it when it blows up.
3.) The Eggs.
If they are real, boiled eggs, it sucks because there is absolutely no chance that there is going to be anything awesome inside of them other than a yolk. However, if they are the colorful plastic eggs that open up to reveal treasure, this leads me to the next frightening commercial Easter tradition…
4.) The Hunger Games (oh, I mean The Annual Easter Egg Hunt)
[Insert melodramatic music from the Heavens here] It’s a cutthroat, bloodthirsty sport that is the annual Easter Egg Hunt. Children of all ages scour the countryside (or the house, backyard, wherever said Hunt has commenced) to find plastic eggs with the promise of something fantastic inside! Candy, money, toys, PRESENTS!!!!
While it’s full of excitement, it is a pretty odd addition to all the other strangeness that is commercial Easter traditions–mainly because it’s so full of an insatiable lust for violence and glory. Even the most kind-hearted little kid will go all apocalyptic survival fighter in the name of finding the most eggs in the Hunt. No one is your friend and everyone is a threat. It’s like you just jumped into Lord of the Flies and only one can emerge as the Mighty Holder of the Eggs.
Soon, you’ve forgotten all about the prizes that await you in those little plastic oblong circles and healthy, fun competition is lost in a hazy afterthought. Your sights are focused on being the best, and capturing the most eggs of anyone there, which will make you the MASTER of the Hunt this year. There is no worthier title.
You asked your mom for one of those nice “hand-weaved” Easter baskets this year—you know, the one with the solid handles: great for grip, and even better for splinter and slice. Last Easter, you had one of those typical pink and white baskets with the waxy plastic braided handles. But now…now you’ve wised up. Two scars on your right arm and a weird bone spur popping out on your knee from a violent downhill tumble that pigtailed-bitch Ashley B. caused 365 days ago has wisened you up. Little Bobby Smith isn’t going to walk away the Hunt Master again this year…
Happy Easter to everyone: whether you are shelling out the chocolate, hiding the eggs, or on standby as the medic at the annual easter egg extravaganza, make sure you’re having an amazing time and enjoy this quirky holiday full of color.