we'll take the trick, thank you
mr. nice guy has never fully understood the appeal of halloween. when our little guppy is born you can rest assured that there will be no strawberry costumes, midget shrek costumes, ladybug costumes, li'l punkin costumes, baby princess costumes, etc. no. not here. first, let's look at the roots of this all hallow's eve, this day before all saints day whence we remember our friends in purgatory, shall we? the pagan holiday formerly know as samhain (pronounced sow-wen. those crazy gaelic pagan bastards), which translates to "summer's end." the celtic druids (think larry bird in a cape) paid tribute with gifts, food and sacrifices--lambs, goats, virgins, virgin goats--to the spirit world to insure that next year's crop would be bountiful.
it was a time for communicating with the dead and receiving wisdom from past ancestors to ensure prosperity. and so how do we celebrate here? we dress up like pariahs, degenerates, deviants and lowlifes ... and GET REWARDED FOR IT by total strangers who open the doors of their innocent homes to us as they dole out chocolate (and it BETTER BE CHOCOLATE, no gum, no licorice, no little-boxes-of-raisins bullshit). now. what kind of message does this send to the wee ones? "look, every day of the year you are a lowly nobody but this one day you get to dress up like a tiny little lunatic and visit strangers WHO WE WOULD NORMALLY RUN MILES TO AVOID and grovel for sweet, sweet candy. then tomorrow you will throw up, be once again deprived of autonomy and will have that candy rationed out to you." sick, i tell you, sick.
but. that said. mr. nice guy is already planning for next halloween. when baby nice guy is five-and-a-half months old, s/he will not be a fairy, a bunny, a toaster or whatever the hell it is brooklyn yuppie parentshave their west indian nanny pick up at the baby boutique. no. baby nice guy will be ... a tiny little hooker. or ... a wee bloated winston churchill. or even baby charles manson. perchance a mini drunk-driving nick nolte. just thinking out loud here. but you get the general cut of mr. nice guy's jib. after all isn't this why we have children? to parade them through the neighborhood, dressed up like ... like ... khalid shaikh mohammed :
tell me this isn't adorable
my child is going to require DECADES OF THERAPY, i tell you. you got a problem with that? make your own. i'll show you how.
it was a time for communicating with the dead and receiving wisdom from past ancestors to ensure prosperity. and so how do we celebrate here? we dress up like pariahs, degenerates, deviants and lowlifes ... and GET REWARDED FOR IT by total strangers who open the doors of their innocent homes to us as they dole out chocolate (and it BETTER BE CHOCOLATE, no gum, no licorice, no little-boxes-of-raisins bullshit). now. what kind of message does this send to the wee ones? "look, every day of the year you are a lowly nobody but this one day you get to dress up like a tiny little lunatic and visit strangers WHO WE WOULD NORMALLY RUN MILES TO AVOID and grovel for sweet, sweet candy. then tomorrow you will throw up, be once again deprived of autonomy and will have that candy rationed out to you." sick, i tell you, sick.
but. that said. mr. nice guy is already planning for next halloween. when baby nice guy is five-and-a-half months old, s/he will not be a fairy, a bunny, a toaster or whatever the hell it is brooklyn yuppie parents
tell me this isn't adorable
my child is going to require DECADES OF THERAPY, i tell you. you got a problem with that? make your own. i'll show you how.
posted by mr. nice guy at 9:17 PM
1 Comments:
You sir are going to be the teacher's favorite in the school Halloween parade.
Post a Comment
<< Home