Kids down for the night, and we’ve just finished hiding another large stash of candy-crammed plastic eggs all over the place.

Unclear how much the children put stock in the concept of a magical rodent (a normal-sized rabbit? a horrifyingly GIANT rabbit?) impishly apparating within their home at night — while the family sleeps — and hiding candy in nooks and crannies. I remember the Easter Bunny being an abstraction as a kid. Media depictions were inconsistent, but it didn’t really matter if the candy was manufactured, purchased, or excreted by the Bunny: free candy, delivered to our home!

Unclear what a magical bunny has to do with celebrating the alleged life, death, resurrection of the Great Zombie Jesus. Maybe that it has NOTHING to do with the magic zombie story is its appeal.

So, 2,000 years ago, a guy I never met gave his life for … what exactly? To expiate my sins, twenty centuries before my birth? Did he ask me before doing this? And I’m supposed to thank him, nay, I OWE him obedience for this whatever-it-was?

Astonishing how, even with 200 cameras on her at all times, it’s not even possible to document what Lindsay Lohan is doing with herself week by week, meanwhile great credence is given to Iron Age rumors shared word-of-mouth by illiterates for generations before any of the stories were written down. Imagine wars being started over conflicting Lindsay Lohan rumors.

Candy? Real. Yay! Nom nom nom. All-too-human cranky sanctimonious sky gods who watch over us and require constant appeasement? Not so real.

Team Candy.