There. I said it.

I don't like Hallowe'en. Or even plain ol' Halloween.

At some point early in my career I realized that dressing up as if I were an imbecile, in the technical sense of the word, and begging for candy couldn't possibly hold a candle to staying at home and relaxing in my sleepwear.

As I reached man's estate, my feelings darkened, culminating in what happens these days when I have to assist in putting all kinds of "scary" things around the house. Scary, incidentally, means things that make annoying loud-ass noises for no good reason. The whole thing reaches a climax on Oct. 31, when platoons of strangers parade by your house asking for cheap candy. Even worse, we are treated to the musings of people who use -- without even trace amounts of irony -- the word "magick."

Furthermore, Halloween kicks off the eating season in worrisome style. From here on out, there is some event each month in which gargantuan, lucullan amounts of food are sent down the national gullet in a frenzy that will simply not abate until Easter, when everyone starts wondering why they look perfectly foul in swimwear.

Mind you, I put up with it for the sake of keeping peace in the valley, but I hate it.

And now you know.


P.S. To those kind souls among you who have, re. my impending Big Business Thing with the Argentines, prayed, fasted, chanted, sacrificed vermin under the full moon, etc.: Keep it up, DO NOT seems to be working.


Poppy Buxom said…
Don't worry. It's in the bag. I'm invoking all kinds of Magick.
Joke said…
Whew. I was going frantick.

Bec said…
For my part, I've taken a vow to not have a fourth child.

I hear it's just that sort of sacrifice that makes Argentines docile. Yes?

(and give it up, Joe, allow 'anonymous or other' coments on your blog because my google/blogger sign in is The Length Of A Bible and it hurts my hands to have to type it every time I flippin' leave a comment. Sir.)

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