Just the Beast a Modern-day Society Can Do, Halloween Edition

Greetings from the saddest, deadest Halloween ever, 2020.

So, if the death of Halloween isn't an appropriate metaphor for the End of Days, I don't know what is. We take the kids out trick or treating this year, 2020, this great advanced civilized society of ours, in an upscale neighborhood of 50 houses, and literally, 4 houses, 5 including ourselves, are participating in this apparently not so timeless holiday tradition. Not that I'm a huge proponent of unlimited sugar for a couple of already hyperactive seven-year-olds when our pantry is overflowing with the toxic stuff, but my Nightmare Before Halloween/Christmas whatever-obsessed wife insists, so what are you gonna do?

Geez, it really is a ghost town out here, guys. There are more tumbleweeds drifting by than actual trick or treaters. We keep passing by the same dumbfounded family dressed up like the Flintstones. (True story. That's an odd little synchronicity for those few who actually follow this silly truth-dropping blog . . .)

There's no more Halloween parties, no more outdoor family-friendly movies in the driveway or roasting marshmallows and hot dogs allowed because that sawed off troll Dr. Fauci and super-creepy Bill Gates said so. You're all gonna' catch the c-v thing, especially all you old diabetic hypertensive farts over 50, probably from cute little Johnny in his mask-less Harry Potter getup. Maybe there's one sad brave lonely guy out in front of his house lighting up his fire pit, drinking Coronas (you did not just go there you shameless SOB) cheerfully handing out mini Twix bars and M&Ms.

A couple of houses leave their porch lights on by accident. The kids are ringing, ringing, ringing the doorbell in vain, frustrated and confused. The porch lights, all the lights in the house suddenly go dark. The poor old couple of septuagenarians, Frank and Alice, absolutely petrified of catching the c-v thing from the germy little bastards are huddled inside like a couple of fugitives in Old Berlin hiding out from the Gestapo. Goddamit, Frank, you forget to turn the light off, idiot. Turn down the CNN, they're gonna hear us! Now the greedy little devils know we're home, we're gonna' have to hide out here in the dark for the next 2 hours, dumbkopf . . .

Growing up back in the 70s and 80s, probably even 10 years ago, there were hundreds, maybe thousands of kids, just as many teenagers out on Halloween night perpetrating some harmless Devils' Night pranks and questionable vandalism. You practically had to fight your way to every door to get the best, big fat juicy Snickers and Hershey bars. It was absolutely sacrilegious for even the stingiest of your neighbors not to participate. The side of your freshly painted house, and the windshield of your car, would be absolutely pelted with raw eggs, a tangled matrix of toilet paper all strewn throughout your leafless autumnal shrubbery. They'd smash your precious Jack 'o' lanterns and there'd even be an unreachable mess of tp way up in the trees, such incorrigible skullduggery, the shameless devils. Now every year, this once incomparable, thrilling, delightfully frightfully night of the year, just gets sadder and sadder. An obvious pattern of de-evolution happening here.

I'll keep this one short, guys. It's really just too depressing at the moment to keep going on. That's about it for now. Best to call it a night, go try to find some more hidden esoteric meanings in the Shining which my dad took me to see when I was 9, 10 years old. Today he'd be arrested on some trumped up charge, if there were actual movie theaters open. Hollywood, like Halloween is dead. Long live the king, Jack Skullington, whatever his name is . . .

Peace and blessings. Happy Halloween, all you poor sad devils . . .