Well, it’s Easter. The day Jesus Christ rose from the dead and absolved us of all our sins, but not really. Technically, the absolving-of-sins happened when he died a couple days before Easter; the resurrection was more like the religious equivalent of a showboating touchdown dance. Issues of good sportsmanship aside, though, this day is all about forgiveness, assuming you follow a certain major religion.

That’s right! According to the Christians, Jesus sacrificed himself around 2000 years ago, washing away the sins of mankind in the process. Anyone born since that time can have their own sins washed away, simply by believing that this was indeed the reason behind Jesus’ death. Pretty sweet deal, right?

I’d like to pause here to relate a story.

A few years ago, I was waiting for a bus when a profoundly creepy gentleman approached me and introduced himself as “Shablinky”. Before I could say a word, he began ranting at me, telling me that Jimi Hendrix was a hack who had stolen all of his ideas, demanding I maintain eye contact with him, and just generally making me feel like I was about to get stabbed. After a few minutes of shouting, and several unsuccessful attempts to bum a cigarette, he stepped back, waved his hands arhythmically, and insisted I now owed him a dollar as payment for this “dance.” I didn’t want to get stabbed, but I didn’t want to give him a dollar either, so I stupidly tried to reason.

“How can I owe you a dollar?” I asked. “I didn’t ask you to dance. You just did that out of nowhere and started asking for money.”

He repeated: “You owe me a dollar.”

“I don’t think I do. That’d be like giving someone a gift, and then giving them the bill for it. I mean, it’s technically allowed, but it’s kinda sleazy.”

“You owe me a dollar, fucker.”

“Look, the dance wasn’t even that great,” I said, then trailed off, filled with a renewed fear of stabbing. Could I have been in the presence of a very creative but incompetent mugger? Was he really crazy enough to attack me in broad daylight, surrounded by witnesses? Should I just give him the goddamn dollar?

All my questions were rendered irrelevant just a few moments later. Shablinky spotted a man crossing the street and chased after him, hurling accusations of interracial sodomy at his presumably baffled new victim. When I related the story to my friends later that evening, many of them replied with stories of their own — they too had encountered this man, and been charged a dollar for his unsolicited (and very lame) dance moves.

The Easter season always makes me think of Shablinky. Except instead of getting stabbed, you go to Hell. Happy Fucking Easter, everybody!