And a happy Halloween to you, too.
Boo!
Tag: Halloween
Boo*
* Extra scary because no helmet! Boogity boogity boogity.
On the nickel, over there
I dressed up as an old bald white guy for Halloween, but nobody noticed. Too subtle, I guess.
We did get a record crowd of trick-or-treaters, which may or may not have something to do with the cuts to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program that took effect today.
One toddler pirate was into some serious pillaging, plucking booty from our candy bowl with both teensy fists. An adult joked, “I hope you’re planning to share that. …” Goddamn socialists. When I was a child, we had to make our own Halloween candy and then defend it by force of arms.
With this satanic celebration safely behind us now, it’s time for the sanctified seasonal festivities, like scrambling to find nifty places to stash the poor folks where holiday shoppers won’t have to look at ’em.
A beater South Nevada motel that has housed some 70 folks is closing, apparently to reopen in 2014 as “a center for mothers undergoing substance abuse treatment,” a need for which the necessary $300,000 per annum to house an estimated 20 moms and their kids has yet to materialize.
In the meantime, the Springs Rescue Mission will operate the city’s only overnight shelter for the chronically homeless throughout the winter, providing 30 beds for men and women. That has funding through April 15, but the mission apparently has plans to use the space for “an undetermined purpose” come springtime.
I bet springtime seems a long way off to a lot of these folks. The Baboon Caucus would like to ensure that it never comes. Not for the homeless. Anyone who doesn’t own at least three houses, a bank account in the Caymans and a senator is invisible to that crowd.
Boo
Boo!
I’ve always enjoyed Halloween. You get to be someone else for a day. What’s not to like?
My biggest problem in designing a costume used to be dealing with the limitations of personal appearance (long hair, full beard and earring). Let’s see, there’s hippie, pirate and … and. …
Mom used to make our costumes when we were kids, and for Halloween the year I spent as a college dropout I got her to whip one up based on a cartoon character of mine, Loadedman (don’t ask; it was just about as bad as you can imagine, a half-assed fusion of Gilbert Shelton’s Wonder Wart-Hog and Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers).
One Halloween a newspaper colleague and I dressed up as the Holy Trinity. He was God, and I was Christ, complete with cross and crown of twist-tie thorns. We couldn’t find a third, so we slapped a happy-face sticker on a white helium balloon and hey presto! The Holy Ghost.
Another year I was Che Guevara (there’s that hair-and-beard thing again). It was a twofer, as I got to indulge my commie fantasies and firearms fetish at the same time.
Best Halloween of all: the one when Herself and I hooked up for the first time in Santa Fe. Don’t recall my costume for that one; probably hippie, pirate or … or. …
Now, of course, I have an entirely different personal-appearance problem come All Hallows Eve. No hair, neatly trimmed white Van Dyke, earring. Let’s see here: Hippie’s obviously out, so that leaves, uh … uhhhh … arrrrrrrrr.
