Halloween wrap-up: spooky nerds and prizewinning poems

All Hallow's Eve has come and gone, and though I suppose belated "Happy Halloweens" are in order, my own post-Samhain depression has grown so great that I have been unable to blog for days. I guess it's mostly daylight savings, which means I now leave work after dark, or maybe my near-overdose on sweet but deadly cocktails of Pumpkin Ale and orange-flavored Wonka Spooky Nerds. It's not that I'm addicted or anything, it's just that I couldn't decide whether I liked orange-flavored Nerds or not, so I had to keep eating the little boxes until I was absolutely sure they were awesome. And they are awesome, except that they kind of remind me of orange Tic-Tacs, which isn't really their fault, because if anything orange Tic-Tacs trespass on candy's territory more than orange spooky Nerds stray into breath mint turf.

A few other Halloween highlights/troubles:

Green collar blues
On Monday there was a Halloween parade for the children of my coworkers. I wore my Kermit mask and sat at my desk. A few kids were spooked, but nobody cried, and a few of them actually said hello in such a way that indicated they might actually believe I was a real frog. But then they left to go eat donut holes and drink cider and I was still there at my computer, typing, with my mask on.

Guess which one's my girlfriend
On Tuesday Jennifer decided to decided to show up for work wearing a moustache, a cosmetic affectation that looks distressingly at home on her once-feminine visage.

Scant tricks and treats for Midtown tots
I didn't figure any kids would trick-or-treat my neighborhood, due to the prevalence of apartment complexes, weirdos and students in the area. Nonetheless, I saw a few groups of kids making their way around the neighborhood with their parents. I felt especially sorry for a young Hispanic woman who crossed the street in front of me, leading her twin boys by one hand while they dangled their plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets around their free wrists. I thought about rushing inside and divulging some of my own sweets to share with them, but the chance of them catching a contact high from one of the smoky neighboring balconies was too great for me to risk it.

Houdi-Who
I read on my random Fun Facts calendar that Harry Houdini died 80 years ago on Halloween after succumbing to internal injuries. As the story goes, some wiseacre punched him several times when he was lying down, and although Houdini could usually withstand any blow, he didn't have time to steel himself for the impact so he died a week later. This upset me greatly. Can you imagine the nerve of the guy who punched him? Way to go, asshole, you killed Houdini!

I decided to redirect this anger toward a positive cause, namely holding a seance to resurrect the famous escapist, something his wife did every Halloween for 10 years after his death. However, because I lacked the secret code Houdini gave his wife in order to contact him "if possible" in the spirit world, I decided to try an alternate tactic. At midnight, I cued up my boombox cassette player and played the 1984 party classic by Whodini, "Freaks Come Out At Night" at high volume. Although neither Whodini nor Houdini arrived on the scene, I thought it was a fitting and funky tribute to both the rap duo and the famous escape artist for which they are named.

Never talk about these things
I watched "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" for the first time in 10 years and was surprised to see that it is actually Linus and not Charlie Brown who waits all night for the Great Pumpkin to arrive. Because it is an election year, a few of Linus' lines carried an added weight, specifically his statement that, "There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and the Great Pumpkin."

Long live the King (and his friend, BBQ)
The Best Costume of the Year goes to the King Khan & BBQ show, a touring rock duo who played last week at the Record Bar in Westport. Their album was on the Top 10 list of pretty much everyone at Kief's Downtown Music last year, and although I didn't like it much at first, I eventually grew to love their ratty-sounding garage-rock, punk and soul. As you can see here, Mr. Khan performs at least half of his set in a sequin-dress and purple wig. This might not be the most revolutionary outfit for a man, but the fact that he wears it night after night makes him more than deserving of this blog's coveted Best Costume prize. The show at the Record Bar was one of the most fun rock shows I've ever been to, and if you would like to hear another song and learn more about their hyperbolic greatness, visit their MySpace page. "Why Won't You Lie" and "Waddlin' Around" are great tunes, and there's a good chance they'll waddle through your town soon as well.

Last, and definitely not least, I am elated to announce that we have a winner in the 2006 photo-caption write off. The winning entry comes in the form of a poem by Ralph Waldo Bojangles, who will receive a 2007 Bichelmeyer Meats calendar as a prize. It is believed that R.W. Bojangles is the pen name of a Ph.D. candidate at a New York University that was founded by Methodists. But in the blogosphere, as in life, nothing is certain...Thank you R.W. for your kind participation.

The Transmigration of Lucas Wetzel's Soul


you found yourself in 1912
in small white shoes
a small white town

and everything you loved
was nowhere to be found
on halloween

nothing now to do but laugh
lean back and hold
a small hand out

for kisses or candy
or something else
on halloween in 1912