If you will indulge me flagrantly stepping on other people's religion, a crackpot theory about Christianity's holiest day:
On Good Friday, the Romans crucified Jesus. The Apostles buried him, then in order to drown their sorrows they got really, REALLY drunk. Like "two-day bender" drunk. Then Sunday morning came around and they wanted to go check up on the burial, pay their respects, make sure they'd actually remembered to bury Jesus. Trouble was, between the brain-crushing hangovers and just plain forgetfulness, nobody could remember exactly where they'd put the Son of God. One of 'em said "Dude, Where's My God?"
Realizing everyone would freak if they lost the body, the Apostles had to think fast. One of 'em said "I know! Let's tell everyone HE ROSE FROM THE GRAVE!" Since nobody else could come up with a better idea, they were all like "hey, that's crazy enough to work!"
2,000 years later? It's still working. Happy Easter!
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I should be really offended, but I'm chuckling, because that was short and sweet, and just absurd enough to be amusing. ;-)
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