Since Jill has gone all warm and fuzzy, I'm gonna take that as a license to go to that place myself in my own way...You could call this my Blog Against Theocracy if I had been together enough to publish it when I wrote it, which was back on day 1 of Passover. Conditions here at teh Rooster Ranch have allowed that this post can stretch from back in the dark days of night one of Passover (actually its a happy night and a dark night all in one,) all the way through relig(ulous) intolerance, to the Pagan Bunny here bringing us the renewal of life and the fertility of spring! Enjoy! My Jewish half is taking us to Chinese Dim Sum and my Catholic half is making a basket for William.
RIP Mrs. Coo, (if you're merely here for the miracle, you can skip to the bottom:)
I just finished watching Religulous
, Bill Maher's tour de force on the illogical, scary, and silly world of belief...and now on this first night of remembrance of the passing over of the angel of death, which, as I recall, has some lambs blood and baby killing in the story, Ive got to say that I'm happy to stick to the pagan bunny and the rites of spring that somehow got co opted by some story of Jesus rolling back a rock and rising to heaven.
So, in a Colbert-like over the top, what must have been fraternity hazing, that was passion play and sign of macho all rolled in one, some beefy football hunks from the local Sacred Heart University carried heavy wooden crosses some 25 miles from one church to another, complete with picture of the boys with the crosses outfitted with pillows duct taped onto them in the shoulder area so that they wouldn't actually hurt themselves, though they reported many blisters. All thats missing is the whips!
I'm thinking that Religulous ought to be required viewing for this time of year. With the way things are, as Maher points out, most religious people in this country haven't actually read the bible all the way through anyway, and their belief sets are based on something other than striving for understanding of a spiritual path or where we fit in this world. There is certainly a lack of understanding of other religions and a lack of critical thought about the timing of all of this penance and miracle celebration.
Its at times like this that I wonder how we ever ended up here. Coming down from 8 years of fundamentalist leadership in this country might be, in hindsight, something like picking up the pieces after the inquisition, but we wont know in our lifetimes the full extent of how bad this really is; history will judge this time in a far larger context than we can see from inside this bubble. But its gonna look a little crazy, even if you keep the blinders on hoping that most of this can just move on by and end up under some rug somewhere. Historians are not that forgiving it turns out; we can only hope.
Me, I'm clutching my Peeps close to my chest and waiting for the bunny to come hopping down the path with my prayer bear, and pretending that Ive got a basket coming from that rabbit, full of all the fantastic confections that Cadbury, Dove, and the Peeps company can come up with...
So here is my Easter Miracle (tm)...a veritable ressurection of sorts...for this year:
Mrs. Coonie was a rare bantam barred Aracuana that came to live with me via eggbid
some time ago. I got her because Coo, my Aracuana roo would like her, or so I supposed. She was cute and cheap and, it turned out, from a fancy line of chickens and pretty special. Well, some 20 days ago, the unfortunate Mrs. Coo passed away due to...well, lets just say that she died laying an egg. The life of a chicken is hard, but the egg thing is what they do, and all I can do is to try to make it more comfortable for them. In any case, after that tragedy, I decided to grab her last egg and the couple that I had in the fridge, along with a couple of others and put them in the incubator just to see what came out. I had expected a hatch tomorrow or the next day but, look what was waiting for me this morning:
If this is Coonie's child it is a fancy bird from which I could perhaps sell the eggs for hatching or lease it out at stud....If its the bastard son of Woostie, or worse, the accidental-frizzle-roo-who-must-go-as-soon-as-he-crows, then hes a mutt pet. If it is Coonie's kid and its barred, its apparently a roo. If its Coonie's kid and its a hen then it could be any color but barred would be better. If its a mutt then nothing matters except that it keep its mouth shut so the neighbors are not bothered.
In any case, Happy Easter and RIP Mrs. Coo. You did good in the chicken sense of purpose, in that you replaced yourself and provided alot of tiny breakfast eggs along the way. The rest is up to the forces of chicken sex and all that entails....you tell me:
Only time will tell....
c/p RIP Coco
Labels: Bill Maher, Easter, religion, Stephen Colbert