The jelly beans, the fake green grass that finds its way into every corner and crevice of the house and clogs the vacuum cleaner with its unmanageable plastic strings, the milk chocolate balls that months later are still rolling out from under the couch, the fearsome six foot Easter Bunny at the shopping mall and the specter of his long white predatory teeth (you can see I was bitten by a rabbit as a child), the annual hiding and subsequent loss of colored eggs, the marshmallow peeps; these are some of the reasons I hate Easter.
Never mind the moral contradiction of yet another American consumer-fest riding on the back of Jesus Christ.
And besides all that, I don’t like warm ham.
It would be so freaking scairy if a 6 foot Easter Bunny was as aggressive as the rabbit from “Monty Python’s Holy Grail.”