Easter is a strange time for a secular misanthropic humanist. The MSM all but shuts down, the malls are closed leaving the suburban reptiles restless in their mortgaged cages. The middle classes are force-holidaying their families in remote wet climes from Omaha to the Coromandel, cabin fever of the upwardly mobile.
The bakers are rolling in dough with hot cross buns sales up 20 percent on last year, hardly surprising since the buns with the plus signs have been in the shops since January. Homepaddock is pondering the alignment of Earth Day and Easter, alleging the "old" religion clashing with the "new", as if Christianity was somehow original and not a bastardised ripping off of deeper, older pagan cultures.
We all have the option of ignoring Earth Day, but there's no avoiding the enforced Easter break where the country's streets look like a Lilliputian version of China's ghost cities. And don't forget, Earth Day has brought us some magic moments:
Far as I'm concerned, the human race is doomed. Neither Jesus nor Earth Day will save us from ourselves. We've done it before and we'll do it again. The tale of Easter Island taught us that much.
Here's hoping that in a few hundred thousand years when the octopii are the dominant species, they don't get any ideas from the relics of our human follies and start nailing their kind to a tree. Or inventing credit default swaps.
UPDATE: Hawkey is onto it: