I hope you had a fun Halloween, my favorite holiday – when witches roam the earth and insurance adjusters wear panty hose on their heads. I love Halloween because it’s our only guilt-free holiday. In-laws don’t whine about who had dinner where last year, there’s no stressing over gifts, and the less devout aren’t obliged to feel even more heathenish than usual.
No, it’s the lively night when toddlers are dressed as pandas and bunnies, kids joyfully smear themselves with fake blood, and grown-ups make complete fools of themselves because society has given us a freebie. A soccer mom can dress as a slutty vampire for a night and won’t be ostracized by the carpool. A bearded factory worker can don a mini-skirt and a bra stuffed with volleyballs and it might actually burnish his reputation at work: “You shoulda seen Billy Wayne – Lord, he’s a wild man. Last I seen him a leopard woman had her tail around him and they was doin’ the dirty boogaloo.”
The frustrations of phone menus, rude drivers, plugged bridges and brain-dead politicians push us toward the edge of insanity all year, and Halloween gives us the opportunity to actually cross that border for a few blissful hours and not suffer dire consequences. Thus, “It was Halloween, Your Honor,” is considered by many to be a legitimate alibi.
Young men appreciate the fact that Halloween transforms many otherwise modest young ladies into brazen exhibitionists. That prim receptionist suddenly has license to reveal her inner pole dancer, and portions of her anatomy rarely seen in public are not only lasciviously displayed but are painted green. You don’t get that at Thanksgiving. If you do, it’s a clear call for a change in medication.
I like the fact that there are still some mysteries associated with the night of ghosts and goblins. For example, I have no idea what a goblin is. It sounds like something that might eat too fast, but there’s nothing really scary about a messy shirt-front and heartburn.
Another unknown is how werewolves and vampires get along. Some say they hate each other, but I suspect that’s the vial-half-empty crowd. There are such huge differences between them that I doubt it’s ever an issue – like asking how poor black lesbians get along with Republicans. Vampires are generally elegantly dressed and do well at parties, whereas werewolves run naked and have fleas, automatically disqualifying them from most black-tie functions.
Another difference: a werewolf will use a crucifix as a chew-toy, but show one to a vampire and he cringes in fear. Which is why you never hear of a vampire problem in Catholic neighborhoods – crucifixes everywhere. He gets the sweater off, he opens the blouse, he’s about to chomp on the neck and AAUURGH! There it is on a gold chain, ruining dinner.
So many delicious mysteries among the things that go bump and chomp and “Dude!” in the night. Take advantage while you can. They already make us wear seat belts and helmets and refuse us service if we don’t wear shoes and shirts. What’s next? Taking away our inalienable right to wear a pink tutu, a snakeskin leotard, flamenco jacket and a Mitch McConnell mask? I don’t think it’ll happen, because now, more than ever, the powers know we need a little insanity. R
Mack’s harrowing yet hilarious memoir of his stay in an African prison is available at www.mackdryden.com.