Clearly…a butter lamb…

The Book of Me on Easter 2009 translated through a warbly rough Vox Continental.

I awoke that morning…to find the rock rolled away from the entrance to the cave, and my lord Jesus Christ naked, smeared with mud…leaves twisted into bunny ears on top of his head…a half-crazed, half-pained look in his eyes, as he inhumanly and excruciatingly…literally…shat eggs all over my lawn…again.

Through the tears of a madman, impossibly squeezing out another hot steaming treat for the earth, choking on his own screams he petitioned, “OH GOD WHY!?”

Every year.

Back in the cave, Uncle Jesus…

Meanwhile…in other blasphemous news. The above picture was a lamb made of butter, which I could not help but behead and sprinkle wine amongst its parts, thus making it…yes…a sacrificial lamb.

This…actually unexpectedly perturbed the hell out of my mother…but I still contend it is a better more artistic fate than had we simply commonly smeared the thing for use on our bread as happened anyway.

Mom…god thought it was funny…god thought it was funny…

Not a terribly inventive thing…but irresistible nonetheless. I’m curious how many other lambs met similar ends this year…

No malice…just a bit of fun. I am otherwise a near-perfect son.

Let’s replace Jesus Christ with Jim Morrison and get A step ahead…