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misfiled - The misinformer.com archive

April 16th, 2001

Hello again there, viewing audience. It's Easter time, and you know what that means. It's time for another fun-filled frolic in the public space for Orlando's favorite bunny fetishist, Timb the Enchanter!

My Easter as a Bunny Fetishist II
By Timb the Enchanter

The Friday before Easter is known religiously as "Good Friday," because that was apparently the day that the Italians got their hands on a cool and groovy guy named Jesus, and proceeded to humiliate, flog, and lynch him like a little bitch.

I don't know why exactly they call it "Good" Friday, since the poor guy got fully fucked up and killed and all. I don't know exactly what's so good about killing the founder of your religion either, but hey, it's not like I came up with the name.

This year, Easter falls on April 15th. With good Friday being two days before, this year we've got ourselves a Good Friday the 13th. I'll be damned.

For you slow folks, and I know you're out there, the irony is that Jesus was killed on Good Friday... and of course in the Friday the 13th movies, this guy Jason Voorhees kills a bunch of people. (Yeah, I know his mother was the actual killer in the first movie, so stuff it.) Is it a coincidence? Am I completely pulling this out of my ass? Read the book.

In order to celebrate your Jason Voorhees Easter, I recommend getting really rip-roaring drunk (which is pretty much what I do on any religious holiday, and usually on Arbor Day too), putting on your hockey mask, covering yourself in corn syrup (it's what they used for pig's blood in Carrie) and joining me in a field trip to the nearest church to ask the congregation "how can I be saved?" and "do you like homosexuals?" as they empty out of the building after mass. While you're at it, ask them why they think killing Jesus is "good."

I'll see you there!

Okay, that may be a little extreme for you. It's easy for me. Born-again Atheism has its merits, for sure! Plus I get to go straight to hell, no questions asked.

What's the point in heaven anyways? "Michael W. Smith" concerts every night? You get to spend eternity with those irritating, badly dressed people who wouldn't leave you alone when you were downtown getting drunk on Saturday night last month? Remember? They kept pushing Christian propaganda on you and they kept trying to put their hands on you to "drive out the demons." They gave you those little comics about how drugs are satanic, and heavy metal music is evil, and how all of mainland China is hellbound.

But seriously, folks.

Easter is a great time of year, cause there's all kinds of cutesy bunny stuff all over every inch of every store for about two whole months. I can really stock up. It's hard to get ears at any other time during the year unless you have access to one of those ridiculously expensive "Party City" type places where they sell Halloween stuff all year long. I'm gonna get up to Target on Monday and clean the place out as soon as they put those "90% off" stickers on the seasonal merchandise.

If you're fortunate enough to go to the Fetish Party in Ft. Lauderdale on "Good" Friday, you can catch me reenacting the "flogging" and "humiliation" portions of Jesus' "good" day, but probably not the whole "death" part.

Have you ever seen a grown man get whipped?

How about a grown man in a rabbit suit?

It's quite a sight, I definitely recommend it. Since this article isn't actually going to run until after Easter, I suppose it's a little late to tell you to come out and witness it this time, but fear not. I'm sure you'll have many other opportunities to witness a rabbit being punished corporally. And you won't have to kick ass on that mall Easter Bunny like in Mallrats.

Speaking of which, this year, I thought about getting a job as the Substitute Easter Bunny at the mall. You know, so when the guy in the suit goes on a smoke break, there's a rabbit covering his hole. Bunny Hole, that is.

It would have worked out, except the mall didn't like my codpiece. Oh, and besides that, I told them that I absolutely despise children. The wretched screaming little fuckers, I hate 'em. Plus they said I had to wear a shirt, and that adjustable nipple clamps and Japanese rope bondage doesn't count as "clothing." I told them they could go stick a carrot up their butts.

A man in uniform came and told me that the interview for Substitute Easter Bunny had ended, and they showed me the way out to the back of the mall. Still, they said they'd let me know. I never got called back. Oh well, maybe next year. They'll still have to make it so I don't have to be near kids though. I hate 'em, I tell ya!

Besides, what a stupid job it would have been even if I did get the OK. You know? Santa Claus in the mall is like an age old tradition of sorts. Kids go up and tell him what they want for Christmas, and Santa Claus tells them they'll shoot their eye out and then kicks them square in the face and down a slide into a huge mound of fiberglass insulation.

The Easter Bunny though? What the fuck is the point of that? What do the kids tell the Easter Bunny anyway? As far as I can remember I never got any presents for Easter, save for a Christian rock CD, but I hardly think that counts. Do the kids tell the Easter Bunny what kind of chocolate they want? Does the Easter Bunny keep a list of shit like that? Like what kids are allergic to peanuts? Which ones vomit after exposure to black licorice?

I'm not really an Easter Bunny at all. I'm just a big poseur. I'm this really tall skinny guy who gets his kicks out of dressing up like a latex rabbit and hopping about where the hot dominatricies dwell. Could be worse.

Until next year (or until Metallica has another ill-fated interaction with Napster for me to report on)...

Happy Easter!


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