My adorable little acolytes: I need to address something very important: LENT. See, for many centuries "Christ"ians have been claiming that in order to get ready for my re-birthday, they've got to sacrifice some shit for, like, six weeks and have a weekly fish fry. Now, don't get me wrong--I am ALL ABOUT the pre-Lent bacchanalia of various Carnival and Fat Tuesday celebrations. I mean, hello--what is sexier and gayer than a giant parade of dancers in skimpy, sparkly costumes, drunken revelry, and the like? But SRSLY, people, just because that one time I did a big cleanse and my friend Lucifer and I made that bet about whether I could make it the whole forty days or not, does not mean that you have to go and make a crappy holiday out of it!
I know the Holy Roman Empire was totes expert at stealing local traditions and deities and whatnot and just being like, "You don't have to STOP worshiping this stuff, we're just going to give it a new name. Like, now Quetzecoatl/Odin/whoever is Jesus or St. Peter or the Virgin Mary, mmkay?" But to me, it kind of seems like Lent was just this unfortunate time at the end of winter where people were like, "Hey, we're running out of food and everything is dead for several more weeks, this is the worst."
So what do they do? They pretend they're giving everybody a BIG PRESENT where they can party on the last of their winter booze reserves, then the next day they go to church where they burn a bunch of old leaves or some shit then draw crosses on their heads with the ashes like a bunch of creepy zombies or something. Then, they're like, "Okay, you have to give something up and also no meat on Fridays because we've got a strategic political alliance with the fishery business." See, now the deprivation and the forced consumption of seafood seem VOLUNTARY. A demonstration of faith and penitence. This is silly. I don't want you to deny yourselves! Don't blame me for your misery, people. I LOVE hedonism--probably a little too much, actually--so let's be clear about this Lent thing: so not my idea.
Don't get me wrong, if you feel like you've got to go on a serious purge to fit into your new Easter dress, that's your prerogative, but I think winter is depressing enough without us all giving up creature comforts like candy, booze, Facebook, or masturbation. So do me a favor: when you (inevitably) go into cranky withdrawals, don't say you're doing it for me, okay? I say drink up, eat the chocolate, rub one out. And do it all in the name of The Sexy Gay Jesus. You can always order the dress in the next size up, anyway. Nobody's checking your tags--least of all me. So enjoy yourself for the next forty days, and I'll see you when we get together again for the annual celebration of my Triumph Over Death (you're welcome, BTW).
Love & tequila shots,
The Sexy Gay Jesus