He is raisin

Easter was strange this year, wasn’t it? That’s what they tell me, and when they tell me anything, they tell me that. We weren’t cracking multicolored omelets, barbecuing bunny from a rolling backyard spit after hunting the hop-along beast in the courtyard adjacent to the church, were we? But resurrection, something never too far from my mind, was the topic of contemplation. Conversation wasn’t possible, so naturally, we had to soldier on anyway. Ad agencies, for the most part, would benefit from tactical resurrection. You don’t want to go completely bankrupt before righting the ship, but it’s helpful to come as close as you can to the end without shutting the doors. 

The lessons taken from this spring holy day can help inform how you survive a particularly tough work situation. Entering a new job with a messianic state of mind is a fresh way of approaching your day-to-day activities. You were chosen, weren’t you? The confidence generated from being selected should be close to what the guy felt like upon realizing he was more than just another carpenter. Since that was a long, long time ago, it’s important to update some of the story for the modern age. 

For instance, you’ve probably come across the four letters, “WWJD” before? Indeed. What would Jesus drive? Not a hybrid. Please don’t say a hybrid. While it’s no simple task to drive a car with sandals, if anyone could do it, surely it’s Him. Others might contend that he’d feel more comfortable riding a donkey or a fixed gear, not wishing to add to his carbon footprint. That’s not how I see it. This is a man who in his short time needed to make a statement. Whatever it is, a convertible is key – anything that lets his long locks flow in the cool Bethlehem breeze. 

There are more superficial ways the Prince of Peace can contribute positively to our current global predicament. How can I say this artfully? After three days with no oxygen, light or anything resembling snack food, nearly transitioning to the other side, anyone, even him, would start to get a little prune-like. Your shriveled savior. That’s nothing to feel ashamed about either. It’s human, it’s natural. Look at my hands. During this time of incessant washing, they are both rather Christ-like, dry and wrinkled like a fine gourmet cheese, firm, yes, but with clear evidence of their advanced, delectable age. The difference between now and then is that Jesus didn’t have the divine ability to moisturize. Man, how man’s come a long way since then.

My hands, like JC, are weathered now. Perhaps for good, perhaps for better. Weathering is a wholly, holy positive development, producing character and intrigue. It’s sort of my pet project to accelerate the decline of the English language in whatever way I can. Far from its total destruction, I’d just like to see it merely decay a bit. There are those in my profession who yell, howl, and shriek over the erosion of my native tongue. But you know what else needed some erosion to achieve true beauty? 

The Grand Canyon.