Thank you, Easter Bunny. *Bauk Bauk*

CAREY: Jeaou, when are you going to start swearing again?

JER: Easter Sunday, sweetie. Easter Sunday.

Happy Easter, everybody. I guess there's no point in delaying this any further, so here's the final tally:

"P**S" 2 "B*****D" 0 "H**L" 0 "D**N" 5 "A**" 0 "B***H" 0 "S**T" 1 "D**K" 0 "P***Y" 0 "F**K" 2 "C**K" 0 "C**T" 0 (names "in vain") "G**" 2 "C****T" 0 "J***S" 0

Not bad, really. Both "p*ss" instances happened while ad concepting with Jason. All five "d*mn"s happened right in a row when something fritzed on my computer. Only one "f*ck" was technically legitimate - the other was a slip while singing along to a Prince song.

I'll tell you, though, it was a very interesting excercise. I've been all clear to swear for the past couple of days, but I find myself continuing to self-edit. As hard as it was to give up swearing, it's nearly as hard to give up giving it up.
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Easter Sunday itself was fine, I suppose. Adequate. Tim McMahan and his new bride Wendy invited me to spend Easter morn with them at their church, Rock Harbor. Despite some pretty intimidating technical difficulties, they managed to produce a very nice little service, especially considering the fact that the place was thronged with people.

I can't lie, though: I was puzzled by the interpretive dance.

Interpretive Christian dance is something that's always been an enigma me. I appreciate the abstract and the unexpected. I think the pure aesthetic of art is a worthy enough cause to produce art in the first place. Not everything needs to be a "lesson". Not everything has to "make me understand" something or even "communicate the love of Christ". I just get slightly unnerved when it's obvious that a piece of art is trying to teach me some sort of lesson or depict something concrete and I just don't get it.

I'll tell ya, buddy. I didn't get it.

About ten minutes into the dance (it was a long one), I sort of gleaned that the goateed dancer was supposed to be Jesus. I guess the girl with the multicolored umbrella was supposed to be a new Christian, but I can't be sure. For a minute, I was sure she was supposed to represent Satan, but when "Jesus" hugged her, it blew that theory apart.

Well, whatever. I'm not always the brightest bulb. Nice dancing nonetheless. And, anyway, there were standing ovations and teary eyes by the time it was finished, so obviously some people were very moved by... whatever that was.
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I started thinking recently about strange people. I don't mean "oh, everyone's strange in their own way" strange, I mean folks that have a really unique brand of genius-weirdness. A roadside-car-crash-type allure. There's no reason you should be looking and wondering, but you just can't help it.

And it occurred to me that I'd really like to have lunch with some of those people.

So, a list: 10 smart, strange people I'd really like to sit down with for an hour over beer and burritos.

• Dolly Parton
  
• Chris Ware
  
• Ricky Gervais
  
• Gloria Steinem
  
• Charles Manson
  
• Mark Burnett
  
• Crispin Glover
  
• Condoleezza Rice
  
• Ingrid Newkirk
  
• Charlie Kaufman

If you think of it, make your own list. Surely you have one percolating. Doesn't have to be your "top ten", either. Just ten weirdies. (Preferably living people. I suppose you could choose dead people, but that would make for a boring lunch. And smelly.)
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Go buy Guero. It's friggin' fantastic.
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Finally, there's still time for a last minute surge of support to save dear Aunt Nancy from the humiliation of second place. Vote! Quick!