Halloween candy: a hate-ode.

Today, I made the annual offering to the sugar gods. By this, I mean I bought approximately seven pounds of Halloween candy. I knew it was Halloween candy, rather than just big bags of miniature sized packs of Milk Duds, Kit Kats, and other, crappier candy, because it had ghosts on the bags. That much sugar IS scary.

And not just because it is handed out in the darkening gloom, to children dressed up like zombies, kitty cats, pirates, droids, and Darth Vader. No, it's because it has to sit at my house for days before the handing out even happens. I'm pretty sure this isn't actually my fault, that the bag got torn open before I even got in the car to drive it from Target home. Okay, I tore it open. And extracted two mini boxes of Milk Duds. And ate one of them while I was driving to Trader Joe's. And then ate the other one while I was driving from Trader Joe's home. I may have also sampled the Kit Kats.

The historian came home from his afternoon of good works. "Oh!" he said, and took out a tiny pack of chocolate-y whatnot.

"Hey!" I said. And all that that implied, such as don't you eat the Halloween candy before Halloween! And: I don't want to have to go back to the store and buy MORE candy! And: crazy rabbit, Kit Kats are for kids!

Not that I had eaten the Halloween candy straight from the big bag, and also from the trunk of my car. Or skulkingly ate those Milk Duds one two three four whilst driving. Or anything like that.

Candy is the worst. Small candy is the worst of the worst. It acts like it's redefining the whole situation by its tininess, winningly announcing: How can I hurt you? I'm so tiny! I'm miniature! And then you've eaten, like, six boxes of Milk Duds (approximately) and it's only four o'clock, and it's still six days till Halloween.

Well, there it is. Halloween is here. The enemy is in the house. And, as usual, the enemy is us.

Dear Halloween,

In answer to your questions:

Yes, I found my raven shirt, and no, I have not purchased Halloween candy yet.

stop bugging me,

htms

p.s. no I did not carve a jack o'lantern dammit.

Movie movie movie.

1. Zombieland. I read a review that said Zombieland might actually kick Shaun of the Dead's ass. I wouldn't go that far, but it was dang enjoyable. It starts with a zombie-on-human montage, with Metallica in the background, and it just gets better from there. Baby, I am getting into the Halloween spirit. I have a pumpkin on my porch, I have seen a zombie movie, and maybe I will wear my raven shirt come the last week of October. Right, back to the movie: if you're interested, there's interview with the director Ruben Fleischer, a first-timer. Woody Harrelson and Jesse Eisenberg are kind of perfection together. In conclusion, zombies! in L.A.!

2. It Might Get Loud. This documentary was quite wonderful, I thought, featuring Jimmy Page, the Edge, and Jack White, each talking about his relationship with the electric guitar, his influences, his history in music. Walking in, I probably had the easiest relationship with U2's music, and the Edge comes across as an unprepossessing, intelligent, modest guy. So I was surprised by two things: I thought Jimmy Page was just great, both in the affect he projected and the love of music he evinced, but also I guess I had no sense, really, of his career history. I kind of thought it started with the Yardbirds, but he was an accomplished session musician for quite awhile before that. And Jack White, who, despite all the critical praise, had in the past seemed to me a little bit of a poser? Awesome. Truly. He was awesome. The moment when Page played the riff from "Whole Lotta Love" was pretty much priceless. I loved this movie. I loved seeing Page, who is 66 years old, clearly still a master.

3. Capitalism: A Love Story. Has the pluses and the minuses of the usual Michael Moore efforts. Maybe more pluses than minuses though--it provokes thought and debate. It hits a nerve. As Dana Stevens of Slate says, "There's something touching, even a little bit noble, about Moore's eternal willingness to serve as our nation's shame-free populist gadfly." And, despite the inevitable logical flaws and the cringe factor, I'm still glad to have seen it and glad he keeps doing this thing he does.

TAGS: cringe factor, gadfly, poser, master, zombies

Reason #7: It's just another excuse for shenanigans.

Why Hallowe'en is a pain in my ass, a thorn in my side, the bane of my existence:

1. in the stores, they start making with the orange and black before summer is EVEN OVER.
2. candy corn: waste of sugar.
3. orange is one of my favorite colors, but if you wear it with black, you're always signaling Hallowe'en, even if you don't want to. Hallowe'en has imposed a color hegemony! Throw off your chains!
   
4. I HATE costumes.
5. I HATE horror, fake, satiric, or otherwise.
6. stupid fake spiderwebbery, dummies with knives stuck in 'em, skeletons of all reports, gravestones, ghostsheetery . . . the Hallowe'en decoration schema, gah.
   
7. just another excuse for shenanigans.
8. waste of perfectly good pumpkins.
9. I have a stick up my rear end? --don't think I haven't considered the possibility.
10. the kids want you to help them be things like Poison Ivy or a Darth Maul (or however you spell it). When I was a kid, you could be these things: Hobo, Gypsy, Little Girl (if you were a bigger girl), Witch. Also Ghost, if there happened to be a spare sheet.
    
11. What if there's a Jazz game on television during the trick or treating?
    
12. I HATE dressing up. Did I already mention this?
13. Frankly, I'm not crazy about other people dressing up--adults, that is. Boo, humbug.
    

I do like: giving the candy out; seeing cute little kids in their cute little costumes; the fact that it's October 31, and therefore right on the cusp of a new month, the change in season, the secular residue of a religious celebration (the eve of All Saints day); eating Bit-o-Honeys, which my kids always disdained and which I remember from my childhood.

And speaking of that, where are the candy cigarettes of yesteryear?