Forty Days. Forty Nights.

So...

Lent.

We were talking about it at Lulu's the other day. It's August, but hey - we smoke a lot of dope. We're slower than other peoples.

I always enjoyed the day before Lent started. Some smart bugger sometime ago obviously decided that if you were going to deny yourself something for the next month and a bit, you might as well have a bit of a razzle the day before...

So out come the waffle irons, jaffle tongs, pancake pans and sherry, and everyone has a merry old time getting well fershnickered and throwing great big gobs of batter up onto the celing.

Good times.

Then the next day is Ash Wednesday.

Bugger that for a game of soldiers.

A day where you have to be all depressed, give up something nice or tasty or nice, and more than likely eat charcoal. I confess I don't know about the charcoal bit, I never really did much about the 'ash' part of Ash Wednesday.
I just moaned about the Catholics.

Then you begin Lent. You choose something important to you, like Coke, chocolate, sex, cigarettes, pornography, and give it up.
For Forty days.
You don't have it until Easter Sunday, which is when Jesus walked out his tomb wearing a robe and incapable of cupping water in his hands, due to the leak factor.

Now Lent, and the giving up of something nice, is supposed to signify the Forty days Jesus spent in the desert prepping himself for the Crucifixion.
He went without food, so you have to go without lemonade.

Don't get me wrong, I may be a much-lapsed Christian today; but I was raised Methodist, went to Sunday School, did Confirmation, Youth Group, the whole toot. I even touched Karen Vermeulen's boobs in the back pew during communion once.

I was a bona fide Church-er.

But I never quite understood this Lent vibe. So Jesus decided that the best way to prepare to take on the sins of the world and die so that we may have eternal life (which, you must admit, was rather nice of him), was to go into the desert for a while.

He decided to not eat at all, wander around, and show the Devil that, in actual fact, the living incarnation of God does have quite a bit of will power, and won't jump off a cliff just because Satan asked very politely.

Fair enough.

But this doesn't explain why, in the name of everything good and pure, people that go to Church religiously on Easter Sunday and Christmas morning, and at no other time, suddenly feel the need to deny themselves a simple pleasure, for 'Lent'.

I mean, if you don't go to church, or aren't very religious, why the hell are you reminding me every five minutes how much you want a cup of coffee but can't because you gave it up for Lent?

Don't moan to me, you silly nana...

I gave up Lent for Lent.