On 4/20, you’re more likely to find me looking for grass than looking for eggs in the grass.

Easter Sunday has sickened me my entire life. It’s a wildly dysfunctional holiday filled with bizarre characteristics and ugly colors that signifies the beginning of the absolute worst season.

I’m not afraid to say it. Spring stinks. I have to deal with crippling allergies every year because of it, and I already have to deal with my allergy to feathers. On top of that, my parents always fly in from their migration location this month and want to spend time with me. I’ve had to make a bunch of silly excuses just to get away. Do you know how many times I’ve told them I have a Beatles concert to get to? I left that group years ago.

I hate how much it rains in the spring, and summer is even worse. Money’s tight, and I haven’t been able to put a roof on my house since I moved. To make things worse, money continues to be tight because the rain ruins it! It’s a vicious cycle.

Nevertheless, I welcome storms to ruin the day of Easter. The whole celebration is a mockery of my people. You make an entire holiday about eggs, which is already ethically inconsiderate to the birds around you, and then you use a stupid rabbit to represent them?! It’s insulting! And then, people paint real eggs! What’s the problem with using the plastic ones you hide candy in? They last longer anyway. Besides, every bird knows that the best color for eggs is white. OR brown. I’m not trying to be racist here.

The plastic eggs are usually disappointing, too. They always have the same fun-size piece of candy you’ve had a thousand times. Would it kill people to fill them with birdseed? Other popular stuffers include: small toys that, in two weeks either break, get lost, or get placed in a drawer and forgotten about; school supplies, because every kid would love to find an eraser on a Sunday; and coins, which in this economy, are just chocolate coins without the chocolate. 

I’m sorry to burst the bubble of every diehard Easter fan, but pastels are horrible. Maybe they look fine to humans, but to birds? It looks like you guys went dumpster diving behind a Goodwill. I can see in ultraviolet, and those clothes are ultra-violent.

And it’s the whole weekend that’s awful. This Sunday, you’ll find me protesting this garbage celebration downtown with some of my bird friends. You can join us if you wish, but self-immolation is a distinct possibility, so please don’t bring barbecue sauce. If you want to participate in other ways, you can do what I’m guessing a lot of people are doing right now for unrelated reasons, and refrain from buying eggs. If we can all come together, we may be able to destroy this godless tradition and allow the moais to reclaim Easter.