Jonathots Daily Blog
(4021)
A. Side profile for candy pose is not flattering
B. Children think rabbits lay colored eggs
C. Colored eggs insist on being called “Chicken-born Americans”
D. Suing hip-hop music for stealing “hop” from “hoppity”
E. Dying on the cross for the sins of mankind
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(3631)
A. The Lucky Car Dealership giving away a rabbit’s foot for good luck as a promotional benefit during “Hoppy Sales Week”
B. Obtuse and confusing parallels drawn by ministers and church youth leaders between the Easter Bunny and the Resurrection of Christ
C. Peeps voted “Best Easter Candy.” Damn those chicks.
D. Jokes about the Easter Bunny being a “basket case”
E. Politically correct individuals upset with the term “colored eggs” want to change it to “hue-enhanced eggs.”
Jonathots Daily Blog
(3276)
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(2469)
(Transcript)
Being painfully bored, I was greatly relieved when Marsha called and said that some of the kids from school were getting together to hang out, drive around Westerville and see if we could have some fun without getting in trouble.
She wanted to use my 1962 Chevy Impala because it was big enough to seat seven people.
I agreed.
We had a great time, but we did start running out of things to do, so we headed off to an area of our community where all the rich people lived. The locals usually did this because we wanted to drive by their houses and talk about what brats they were.
Suddenly Marsha suggested that Carol, who was with us and was about to get her driver’s license, take the wheel and try her luck. As unbelievable as it may sound now, in a moment of sanity, we all thought it was a great idea on that day.
Carol got in the car and the first thing she did was put it in reverse and back my automobile into a deep ditch.
We spent the next twenty minutes trying to get out of the predicament. Then Marsha noticed we were across the street from one of our friends from school, so she walked down the long drive to try to get some assistance. While she was gone, miraculously, we were able to wiggle the car out of the ditch, so by the time she returned with her friend the problem was solved.
As I looked up, there was the girl from the house down the long driveway, standing there, wearing a bikini. It was my first bikini.
Normally Ohio people wear clothing–similar to the reason that bears have fur–for protection, warmth and of course, modesty. But there before me was a bikini, displaying its fruit like a bowl full of cherries.
I don’t know why it shocked me so much. Perhaps I had never been that close to breasts that didn’t belong to my mother. I tried not to stare, and of course, when you try not to do something, it becomes even more obvious that you’re doing it.
She was dressed in a bikini because she had a swimming pool, which normally would have caused us to make fun of her, but since she was wearing a bikini, I reconsidered.
She was the same girl who believed the Easter bunny lived at her house, and who sat next to me in biology class like a timid lump of nothing.
But today she was a bikini.
We didn’t stay long, but all the way back to town I was thinking about the sight. I thought about it all that night. I woke up the next morning thinking about my first bikini.
So later that afternoon, I called the bikini girl on the phone and I asked her out on a date. I realized that some of my friends would ridicule me because they had characterized her as a rich weirdo, but I didn’t care. I was driven by a higher force–certainly not as high as the heavens, but floating somewhere above the earth.
I learned that day that romance needs more than love. It requires lust.
And lust has a very brief lifespan without love.
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Jonathots Daily Blog
(2317)
English class.
Right before lunch.
Four days before Easter.
Since everyone was giddy, ready for spring break, the teacher intelligently surrendered to the atmosphere, forsook all nouns and verbs, and instead, posed the question: “What are you doing for Easter?”
Everyone joined in enthusiastically with their plans.
“Ham.”
“Church.”
“Family.”
“Trip to New York.”
“Dinner with friends.”
“A cantata.”
And then, out of nowhere, a young girl who was normally pretty quiet and reserved, piped in:
“I’m waiting for the Easter bunny.”
There were a few chuckles, since the majority of the room believed that such a proclamation was impossible to take seriously.
Now, this young girl’s name was Dollie. She was tall, gangly, bespectacled, often escaping into her own thoughts, but dressed very fancy because her family was loaded. She was a fair student, a little silly, and now, suddenly, with a full spotlight on her in an adolescent English class, found herself the sole advocate for the Easter bunny.
The teacher, attempting to get Dollie off the hook by changing the subject, posed an additional question to the entire class: did they like pineapple on their ham, or raisin sauce?
Yet Dollie persisted, oblivious to the social cliff looming in the near distance.
“The Easter bunny lives in a hole in my back yard.”
She nearly sang it. Yet to the classroom, the idea was off-key.
We were all stalled. We glanced around the room at one another in horror and disbelief, when all at once, the most popular cheerleader laughed out loud. Everyone, feeling license to participate, joined in heartily.
Dollie sat, nearly in tears, perturbed and perplexed that everyone had selected an agnostic position concerning the Divine Easter Bunny who slept in her back yard, awaiting the opportunity to bring candy to all the good little boys and girls.
Fortunately, at that point the inquisition was interrupted by the ringing bell announcing lunch period. Everyone leaped to their feet and headed to the door, still giggling and whispering.
Dollie remained in her chair, stung, emotionally bleeding and bewildered that her faith in the Great Rabbit had been marched into the coliseum of public opinion and slaughtered by the lions of ridicule.
I felt compelled to do something–but I was just a kid. So I walked over and patted her on the shoulder and said, “You know, that’s really dumb. There’s no Easter bunny.”
That was the extent of my empathy.
I then walked from the room, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
It wasn’t the last time I would have an encounter with Miss Dollie.
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Jonathots Daily Blog 
