Lay off, already

Madoff, schmaydoff.

It's time to bust up the virulent Ponzi scheme of someone far more detrimental to us regular folk:



Dear Easter Bunny:

It is with absolutely no regret whatsoever that I write to inform you that your services will no longer be required in the Mad Mad household.

I did not shed so much as one nostalgic tear when eight-year-old Boy cocked an eyebrow at me, and put finger quotes around the words "Easter Bunny" when we talked about our plans this weekend. We're never really sure what's going on in Girl's head, to tell the truth, but she is 12 now, so it's probably for the best we have a little talk with her before she gets beat up behind the gym.

You're so outta here, bunster.

And unlike the thousands of people who've lost jobs in the past couple of years through no fault of their own, you deserve every bit of pain and shame coming your way and I hope Mrs. Bunny shoves hard-boiled eggs down your throat till you choke when she tires of you sitting on her couch all day and hogging the remote.

OK, OK, that last might have been a little mean, but you know what? I have found you, at best, to be an uncooperative "employee," and frankly, I am just tired of holding the bag for you all these years.

Oh, sure. You say you're gonna do it, but when push comes to Good Friday, who is out there shopping and hiding stuff and picking that staticky fake grass crap out of the cracks in my floorboards so no one will suspect anything, and dealing with eggs and painting and class parties and regular life laundry and unpacking from vacation and planning a vacation and Easter is just not timed very well, now, is it?

Perhaps you should have thought of that, Bunny man. Of course, I don't know why I'd expect you to think of anything yourself. This whole gig of yours is on the backs of other people. And by other people, you know very well who I mean, right? The womenfolk, you anti-feminist, oppressor, bad Bunny man bent on keeping us all at home, cooking, cleaning, shopping for stupid outfits it's always too cold to actually wear on frigid Easter mornings in New England.

We do all the work, you get all the credit.

Yet there's no end to the number of new moms you're able to recruit to go lemming-like into your tyrannical regime, only to come out the other end in a few years, dazed, confused and feeling vaguely dirty from engaging in the mental contortions required to explain a bunny laying eggs that you have to find really, really fast because we have to get to church because...

I don't know, actually, how it's related, honey. No... uh, there's not a bunny in church. The bunny has nothing to do with church. But it's a very important day at church, so we have to go. Noooo, nooo... there's no eggs involved, really, either. Um... Yeah, I don't know, honey. Yeah. And chocolate, you're right... it is interesting, isn't it? Well, yeah... Hm.. I don't know. I do, know, that God probably will think it's OK if mommy has a quick mimosa on her way to church, 'cuz she has a really bad headache now. Just have some more chocolate and get dressed, OK, sweetie?

So, anyway, like I said: Good riddance, bud. It's been real. A real pain. Don't even think of coming to me for references. Your tyranny ends here.

Sincerely,
Mad, Mad

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The folks over at humor-blogs know a cranky, holiday-crazed, strung out mommy when they see one. But they wonder what exactly she's doing at the computer, when she should be vacuuming and cleaning dog snot off the windows for the guests who are due to arrive?