On the Edge: The Easter Bunny is Coming

Oh no! Did I miss Palm Sunday again?

Well, at least it’s Easter Sunday, even if the times are too spooky to think about colored eggs, bonnets, baskets and chocolate bunnies. But I do.

You can talk to a little girl in a party dress looking for eggs about the true meaning of anything. For her, bless her braids, it’s the next egg and the next and the next.

The baskets of the grown-ups are full of the same rotten eggs: Ukraine, killer caterpillars, Omni this, Omni that, long COVID, short COVID, and the new kid on the block, BA.2. Did I understand well?

Stop that. Of course, I know what Easter really is; I was an altar boy before most of you were born. Rosemary De Branco and I colored eggs together, then hunted them after dark. They were great Easter celebrations. Thank you, Rosemary, wherever you are.

This morning the world has a lot of spooky things, so why not think about bunnies, beanies, colored eggs, chocolate and the reason for Easter instead? Photo by JP Devine

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m hesitant to involve Jesus now. He’s had enough on his paten this Easter.

They say the art of sarcasm and satire has no place. But satire and flippant language are the tools of my trade. I’m Irish, you see, and I really don’t know how to do anything else.

I come from generations of old men who would stand at the bar in Chicago’s Galway pubs and make other drunks laugh. I don’t drink Irish from Jamieson anymore, so let’s put on a happy face and keep dancing through the news.

Yesterday, full of patriotic fever, I paused my senior Zoomed kickboxing practice, to watch new SCOTUS member Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson take his place in the history books – except in Texas.

Little Judge Jackson and his gorgeous family seemed so out of place among the political celebrities strewn about the South Lawn like ornaments, didn’t they?

If you had a bitcoin for every Republican out there, you couldn’t buy a latte at the local Starbucks.

It was like one of New York’s old-fashioned debutante balls where “all the best people were in attendance” except for Hollywood’s Will Smith, who was home banging the Bozo Bop Bag, which keeps bouncing.

As my childhood friend Lorenzo White might have said, “Sumpin’ is goin’ around,” and everyone in DC gets on board.

The usual suspects include Adam Schiff, Joaquin Castro, Merrick Garland and sweet Nancy Pelosi. Where’s the list of Republicans? Where are they hiding it?

Omicron came across the cooks, servers, lawnmowers, sous chefs, butcher, baker, and candlestick maker on White House staff.

Wait a minute, wait here. Do they employ a candlestick maker in the White House?

Of course they must. The White House uses more candles than President Joe’s Christmas Mass at Holy Trinity Church.

Of course, they can’t just send Merrick Garland to the American Candle Shop in the Washington Square mall, can they? But then why not? What else should he do?

Go bite the ears of a chocolate bunny. Happy Easter.

JP Devine is a writer from Waterville.

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