It's Like Coming Home

So it's two weeks until Easter. DP can stop reading here, because apparently he is Jewish, something I didn't know until he reminded me every week in this blog. But for the rest of our gentle goyim readers, or anyone else who wishes to enlighten themselves concerning the ridiculous things Christians have done to occupy themselves since Lions stopped eating them, this time of year I direct my attention the the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. Anything that bills itself as a rock opera can only be awesome.

Jesus Christ Superstar is a double album passion play of funk-rock legitimacy. Often times, if I want to hear an album, I'll let my iPod play it on shuffle and be cool with it. Jesus Christ Superstar is the only album I always don't listen to on shuffle. Because it's a fucking narrative. The lyrics are at times awesomely literal ("what do you mean by that, that is not an answer, you're deep in trouble friend, someone-christ, king of the Jews") and sometimes you can just tell they wanted to write pop songs but had to make it about crucifixions at stuff. AND IT'S ALL OKAY. I think Jesus, if he existed in the capacity he is often represented, was like a rock opera. Everyone could dance to it, but some people just had to hate it. AND IT'S ALL OKAY.

Look, this is like the first night since this blog started that didn't involve flashcards of some sort for me. Give a guy a break. Also, tonight is my St. Patrick's Day. If St. Patrick's Day celebrated drinking by yourself and eating brie while listening to Jesus Christ Superstar. WHICH IT SHOULD.