All Hallows

The year is turning toward darkness—here sits Halloween already. It's the portent of a season when holidays barrel haphazardly at you. I'm cool with Halloween, though, cuz it's a holiday of a different sort (I.E. it isn’t for family, it’s for me and for you).

Costume-wise, I tend to do the bare minimum to not be deemed a hack or unfun. I also generally attend a party where I lean against a wall admiring all the magnificent costumes people arrive wearing. Edgar Allen Poe and his spectral mistress, Eazy-E and Ice Cube, the bunny from Donnie Darko, Bob Ross, et cetera, et cetera. At a certain point, I always seem to discover myself tipsy, this coinciding with a realization that I've lost all my friends. Suddenly all the masks are jeering at me, all the face paint nightmarish. At this point, I leave—without telling anyone good bye, just quietly wandering home to sleep the sleep of the dead and not wake up again until November.

Anyway, I've never stayed home and handed out candy to the little people roving from door to door with pumpkin-shaped buckets held before them. Is this any fun?

Bob Ross in all his glory, some pioneers heading westward ho, and NWfrickinA.

See? I don't try very hard.

Sometimes all you need is a couple rolls of duct tape to dress up. But then what happens when you have to pee? I don't remember how Billy solved this dilemma.