Bring me the head of the Easter Bunny...

My dear Mother is in some kind of mood with me.

It's mostly to do with the fact that I'm not going to go with the family to roll eggs on Sunday. Which, as you may or may not know, is Easter Sunday.

Apparently, traipsing to the top of Corstorphine Hill and wasting a dozen perfectly good eggs is supposed to be some kind of reminder that Jesus' resurrection is alleged to have happened a couple of thousand years ago.

My side of the argument goes like this. I'm not a Christian. I aint spending a perfectly good Sunday morning going up and down a hill chasing Class A eggs. If it was a case of chasing after Class A drugs maybe this story would be different... But, I digress.

If you think about the whole Easter gig itself you begin to realize that it's existence is based upon a whole load of supposition. Take the "Death" of Jesus... Two thousand, and some, years ago Doctors didn't have access to all the technical gadgetry that the medical profession has nowadays. It's not as if the Romans could have taken Jesus off the cross and hooked him up to a cardiograph to see if his heart was still functioning.

So why do we automatically assume that whoever took Jesus' body off the cross made the right call as to whether or not Jesus was actually dead, as opposed to being very nearly dead. Perhaps being baked in the hot sun had caused some kind of deep catatonic state where the body shut down all non essential functions and Jesus merely seemed to have shuffled off this mortal coil. Remember... Piss poor Doctors make piss poor judgments.

What's to say that this isn't how events panned out?

Then there's the whole Rolling Away the Stone gig.

So, there's Jesus lying in a semicatatonic state. His death has been reported to his followers and they have came to see his body. None of them are any better at making judgments and they think that Jesus has died and is now with his father up in heaven. They file slowly out of the tomb and go about the next few days in a state of shock at the death of their "Chosen one."

Roman soldiers heave a large stone over the front of the tomb and then wander off to the nearest orgy. Failing to notice that one of the followers accidentally left a long walking stick...

As time passes Jesus begins to regain consciousness...

He becomes fully alert and a shock of adrenaline courses through his body. He bursts out of his shroud and takes in his surroundings. He's in a tomb... More adrenaline hits him. His mind reels and his inner voice tells him he has to get out or this will be where he dies having, by chance, survived being crucified. He rushes to the exit of the tomb and heaves at the rock. There is no movement. He tries again. Still no movement.

His eyes look around the room and he spots the walking stick that had been left behind when the tomb was sealed. He picks it up and has an idea... Using the walking stick as a fulcrum he manages to pry the stone that covers the exit from the tomb past its point of balance and sends it rolling down the hill.

...And so it came to pass that two thousand years later a bunch of loons get out of bed on a cold morning and roll eggs down a hill.

So you see, I just can't figure why it is that I should celebrate something I can't consider to be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. And that's not even mentioning the fact that more people have been killed in the name of religious faith than AIDS, the bubonic plague, earthquakes and ice ages all put together.

There's no doubt in my mind that my mum will try the standard argument for having me take part in this bogus festival... And there even less doubt in my mind that she'll listen to the rationality of my argument and concede that I have a point in saying that religion is something that kids shouldn't be subjected to.

"It's for the kids." She'll say.

"It's harmless fun." She'll argue.

Cool... Harmless fun. Sure no-one will be nailed to a cross and there shouldn't be any egg related injuries, but there will be several dozen eggs shattered and strewn across Corstorphine Hill and those could be put to better use. Perhaps by giving them to a person who is hungry. Or maybe all the money that is spent on chocolate eggs could be given to people who have less than a pot to piss in.

But that may be something that Jesus would do.

*Editors note.*

I'll no doubt be lambasted by my mother for this post and some of my regular readers will probably join in.

Let the argument begin!

*Editors note ends.*

Have a nice day.