And on this day many years ago...

Jesus died.

He was dragged from his house in his pajamas, strung up onto a cross, (after he dragged it into town himself after going out into the woods and chopping down the trees and then cutting up the planks of wood and nailing them together) his hands and feet were NAILED into the wood and he was left up there.

Beaten, bloodied and buggered. (Well maybe not buggered but I needed another b word).

He was left up there for days, as the hot sun beat down on him, insects buzzed and bit, and crows plucked at his skin and eyes and every other part of him including the unmentionables, which were rather inadequately protected from the elements by a simple loincloth.

Days went by, he remained there in all his glorious suffering. He bore the pain, he endured the taunts of various non believing passers by, as they hurled insults and rotten fruit at him. There was nothing he could do, no escape, but he faced it with dignity, with strength. Like a man, until inevitably he died. All was over. (Except for the fact that he rose from the dead 3 days later and lived in Heaven for all eternity).

So, think about it. Think deep and hard. Imagine yourself nailed to a cross and hanging from a piece of wood while the buzzards go at you! Imagine people yelling at you telling you you're a madman and a false prophet who is a big poopie pants! Yeah, like that? Just you think about it while you're eating your chocolate and frolicking around the woods getting up to all sorts.

Of course my ass is gonna get beaten with a stick on Monday, or perhaps even later on today, so I'm free to enjoy my pagan revelries without guilt. More on that later. In the meantime have a good Friday.