Dear Mr. Motzko,
Halloween is coming up and I still don’t have a costume idea. Do you have any suggestions for something I could wear?
Sincerely,
No More Jersey Shore Costumes
So, you want me to do your research for you, like the overworked and underpaid non-union elves that power the search engines of Al Gore’s internet? Like the Monopoly set I bought at a yard sale, no chance. The sanctity, purity and Rockwellian goodness of Halloween has been spoiled like a quart of German-style potato salad left out in the sun all day (side note: apologies to all who attended my 4th of July picnic. My bad.). All blame-laying should be lain (layed, lied, whatever) squarely on the doorstep, or if more convenient, the servant’s entrance, of those perennial despoilers of all that is true and un-despoiled. Yes, I’m looking at you, 18-50 year old demographic! Adults have hijacked this holiday like the bus in Speed, minus the emotional depth and sensitivity of Keanu Reeves. The sad jalopy of our nation’s economy is powered solely by Halloween Express outlets at this point, as the only growth sector is apparently hippie costumes for accountants (which sold much better this quarter than the accountant costumes for hippies). Do we really need legions of balding Frankensteins on our sidewalks and manicured lawns, ignorant of the Promethian subtext? Don’t even get me started on the cultural insensitivity of Elvis impersonation. The “white male of mid-south extraction and Cadillac-purchasing predilection” bashing must stop!
Frankly, it saddens me to see you wasting your youth on geriatric-centric holidays like Halloween. Why not pursue some rudimentary vexillology on Flag Day, Poindexter? Or better yet, how about training that gerbil-like attention span on the resurrection of Casimir Pulaski day? Can you sleep while his bones lay (lie, whatever) on the bottom of the ocean, mocked at by octopus and aquaman alike? Even worse, can you remain awake knowing that maypole usage is down 500% in this millennium? You need to get to work, post-haste, as Death is knocking at your door. And he likes Pixie Sticks.
