…which, loosely translated, refers to Lassie saving Bontemps from a vampire casino.
Happy Mardi Gras, everyone! And no, I don’t completely understand what I am wishing you. Something about eating King Cake – which I believe is some kind of celebratory choking hazard – and beignets – which sounds like ornamental cabinet hinges but, from what I understand, are much tastier.
Get your partying out now, people, because after this you’ve only got forty days to bitch to your coworkers and acquaintances about the Great Sacrifices you’ve made for Lent and how they’re truly Cramping Your Style. I mean, omg: you’re giving up Diet Coke for Lent? How will you, like, manage?
My grasp of (what I call) Real Christianity is tenuous, but I think maybe the point of Lenten sacrifice isn’t to broadcast it to the world in hopes of promoting your Pity Party. I’m not saying that giving up soda or chocolate or coffee isn’t a “good” enough sacrifice. I’m just saying: isn’t the absence of fill-in-the-blank supposed to remind you of, oh, Something Greater?
Whatever. It’s just a thought.
Edit: D’oh! I think Lassie should be wearing beads here. Except it took me long enough to figure out how to draw a collie that didn’t look like a horse-man, so just pull a Gladys Knight and use your imagination.