you had your shrove thursday! you celebrated it with frying pancakes! celebrate harvesting crops by returning to eating like wild animals... no carbohydrates on good friday! carbohydrates? complex sugars... you can ingest fructose and lactose... come on... keep up with the poetics of the religion!

well... it's easter... whatever the hell that means these days,
    in protestant lands there is more commotion around christmas
time anyway... you can literally glance over
   the concept of easter in england; i'm not sure how it
looks or feels like in either *lutheran or calvinist countries:
   germany in the former (category), switzerland in the latter...
        category...
but easter is **** hard to pick on...
                 it's supposed to be "celebrated"...
  but to be honest...                            **** all happens!
so yeah... coming from a nation that became ultra-catholic
because one of their countrymen became a pope...
     you get this fervour back there:
                           people really get to the grit of things,
and they do! i swear, they do! take it seriously -
          when you hear a bunch of poles stating their
creed: father son and the holy ghost etc.,
                         they sound like an army of satanists!
you have to hear it... it's what i call the...    murmur effect.
holy murmur... mmm and probably as much comparison
as putting your ear to a belly of a bear and listening
   in on the grumbling noises of the bear's intenstines
  doing their magic of the latter stages of digestion...
  so... coming from a culture that got duped by having
a pope's ethnicity overly-stated as: foundation! tradition!
you get an exodus of those who firmly believed that
communism was working... because they didn't get
the marshall plan hand-outs / benefits...
                         a bit like that analogy:
  give a man a fish?          or give a man a fishing-bow?
                       anyway... so you have this pope
that didn't have the human decency to become
                                                          ­            emeritus
slobbering, drooling all over the sanctity of st. peter's
humble beginnings...
                                 and you have what's called: "tradition"
of celebrating this "festival" -
                                  you don't eat meat on good friday,
also called: quasi-ramadam without any mammal proteins...
   saturday you go to the cinema...
                    sunday you go and sanctify
  eggs... that are painted, and hard boiled...
                            and you have what drunks call:
the morning after...
                                           monday? by now you're in
heaven... having risen from the dead!
                       or what's called the melancholia of winter.
but you know what really bothers me about all this?
     the holy sacraments...
                     and the ****** greek poetry that comes along
with it... and how it's misunderstood, when applicable
to the lunatic acts of "celebration"...
                                      so "fasting" is invoked by
not eating mammalian proteins... meat...
                                   meat... meat...
surely it should be about not eating bread / all forms
of carbohydrates! eh?  surely fasting would be about not
eating breads of all sorts... croissants, pancakes,
buns... crumpets... scoans...
                               after all, flesh into bread blood
into wine?
                             or bread into flesh, wine into blood?
water into wine, oysters into genitals?
                                                 lemons into oranges?
the ancient greek critique of poetry provided us
with an artefact that's probably the best joke on the planet...
thank you plato... for giving as a laughing-stock
of a political movement...
                              clearly what beats it with a club
with nails sticking out of it is:
                           a religion that's like, ultra-kumbaya -
the clerics can sing the whole shabang from
minarets - while the dutiful adherents whisper their
                                                 five-a-day, five-a-day...
that's when you get into why milton wrote what
he wrote, and then had his eyes "gauged" out -
                             nothing less than the equivalent of
the homer of the north... i.e. went blind.
                      me? i'm drinking today... whiskey was
not specified...                 now i'm going to an apache
shamanic rant and say...       whiskey! fire! fire + water!
firewater!                and just ****** greek poetry,
because you know that ancient egyptians also had
a sense for poetry, but it had to be translated into
hebrew to have potency... egyptian princes spoke
the slave tongue? it's a bit like prince charles speaking
some slavic language... say... russian....
     i'd be surprised if he could speak french, never mind
the so called "exotica".