November 3, 2011 at 11:50 AM
Or: Why are we trying to scare a bunch of children into crying, and then calling it fun?
By Eric Davis
The Way I See Things
Eric Davis is rebel, a renaissance man, a racounteur, and a philosopher of little or no consequence.
Halloween is one of those holidays that I’ve had a love/hate relationship with over the years. Try to figure out a costume, buy candy, decide which party to go to….it’s all so confusing. And I don’t even have kids – these are just my issues with me and the wife.
And do I need to talk about the dangers of the Sugar Rush? Sure I buy candy for the neighbor kids – and the ones who get driven here from other parts of the city – but how can I resist eating most of it myself? And do you have any idea what that amount of sugar in my system does to me? Holy moley! I feel like the Tazmanian Devil in the Bugs Bunny Cartoons. And act like him too.
So, I make a joke out of Halloween, as I usually do with things that confuse me. For those of you who subscribe to my Facebook postings, you’ll remember the joke I made about getting ready for the night’s visitors by assembling a collection of Razor Blades and Straight Pins. Hell, that’s what we used to do in my neighborhood when I was a kid. We had a big magnet in Dad’s garage, and all candy was passed under it before we were allowed to eat it. And whoever collected the most dangerous objects was the winner. One year, fishing hooks seemed to be the big thing, and I got so many of them in my Milky Way bars that I didn’t have to buy any that whole next Summer. But for some reason or another, nobody got the joke. I guess my sense of humor is an acquired taste.
Most importantly, I’m all for the revealing costumes most women choose to wear on this holiday (slutty nurse, slutty cheerleader, slutty policewoman, sluttly Lady Gaga, slutty lunch room lady) – but the costumes that these parents put on their young daughters – I couldn’t believe my eyes a few times – especially when I opened the door and saw mom and her kid in identical costumes – “Sexy Cat” is all I can think to call it – but I’m not even sure the girl was old enough to drive. Or cross the street by herself. If there’s a message in there, please help me find it. If I had daughters, they be going out “Trick or Treating” as either ghosts (full-cover body-armor sheets) or a bank safe with a working lock. Period. At least until they’re in college.
In closing, my main question is: who made up this holiday and how did it degenerate into this sideshow of freaks, candy hustlers, and teasing lolitas? What exactly are we celebrating? And why?
P.S. – Bring more Milk Duds if you’re in the neighborhood. I got a wind-up monkey on my back, and those little cymbals are killing me.
In my last entry, I mentioned David Byrne and the backstage beer. I was a guest at the show when he played the Santa Fe Opera a few years back. A group of us were backstage after the show, waiting for Mr. Byrne to emerge from his dressing room. When he did, he was carrying a bottle of beer in each hand. Since I was the first person he ran into on his way to the “meet and greet”, he stuck out a hand, introduced himself, and offered me one of the bottles. What a really nice guy, and a great experience.
Next Time: “Pussycat Doll says ‘What?’”
B&W Photo by Coad Miller
Color Tom Petty/Stevie Nicks Photo by Kelly Davis
David Byrne Photo by Jennie Hunter