Sunday, April 9, 2017

April 9, 2017

Dear Diary,

Today is Palm Sunday, one of my favorite holidays of the year, because it reminds us how to set up someone for assassination Jesus was totally and completely under-appreciated by his followers.  Boy, can I relate to that one! During the you-know-what, I thought I had plenty of friends and supporters, but it turns out every single one of them stabbed me in the back.  Believe me, I know just how Jesus felt, only my pain wasn't confined to my hands and feet, which is good because I scar easily.

The more I think about it, my story actually is a lot like the Jesus one.  They didn't have polls in those days, but I'm sure Judas was in charge of public relations and kept reporting that they had plenty of votes to carry Jerusalem, too.  Look how that turned out.  Not good.  One week later, Jesus was hanging around the capitol, too, but not the way he had planned, either.  See the similarities?  This is a lot like the Kennedy-Lincoln thing!

 And there's more:

During the you-know-what, when I was pretending to be Christian condescending to the peasants speaking to church groups, many of the morons congregants would come forth in order to wash my feet and anoint my head with oil.  Well, they actually gave me gift certificates to local beauty salons for mani-pedi's, but it's pretty much the same thing, just updated because they didn't have gift certificates when Jesus was alive.  They just washed feet, which is pretty gross when you consider that was way before people had Desinex or Gold Bond or wore wool socks.  El stinko, for sure.  Yuck.

I like to think of myself as the first female Jesus.  I don't think that's so out of line, either.  I am kind. I am generous. I like to wear robes.  And to be perfectly honest, I enjoy being worshipped helping the less fortunate, as long as they don't live nearby.

The only real difference between Jesus and me is that on Palm Sunday, nobody throws down palm fronds in my path or praises me by shouting, "Hosanna!"  Bill says the arabs won't send any more palm fronds because FedEx charges too much.  The only praises I hear are from Bessie, but I'm pretty sure she's muttering, "Hose bag."  It's just not the same.

Dr. Morell says that I should not go to church to observe Palm Sunday, which is fine with me, since we're still not sure if the side-effects of Abilify will manifest as diarrhea or extreme suicidal thoughts.  We have a little side bet on that one.  I've also noticed all my belts and shoelaces are missing.

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