IN CRAP WE TRUST

On my way home from work the other day, I found myself eavesdropping on the two girls behind me. They were in their early 20's, having a heated discussion about the impending holiday, and the undue stress they were having in trying to decide what they "wanted."

"I just don't know. I don't think I NEED anything... I mean, I don't need any clothes. I don't need any technology. But I have to GET SOMETHING!"

"I know. It's the same for me. I just got some really cool I-Pod speakers, so I don't need those. But my mom asked me what I wanted. I don't know!"

I was wholly mentally overthrown that these weren't five year olds talking about the latest Teddy Ruxpin tape (or whatever the fuck they're into these days...) These were(at least physically- apparently not so much in the mental department...) grown ass adult people.

When I pass a strip mall, 9 times out of 10 I can say with every last ounce of sound conviction that there is not one business in it that I would use. With this comes a deeply resounding pang of loss- what've we done to this country? "Marshland? Feh! We need a strip mall that will be the NEW home to a store that only sells socks, a tanning salon, an H&R Block office, and a Hallmark store! And that's ALL too! Make sure there's plenty of parking- that wig shop is gonna blow up big time. Just run the steamroller right over those peaceful ducks, there. Fuck 'em!"

As we approach the "busiest shopping day of the year" (recession be damned) I think now is as good a time as any for us as a collective people to take a look at all the shit we have, realize maybe we don't need any more shit, and that maybe we aren't even using or appreciating most of the shit we do have.

Oh my God! Circuit City is going out of business! I say, who gives a fart. Because you can get all the stuff they sell at a million other places, including numerous featureless nationwide chain-behemoths. If you prefer buying your computer and speaker goods in a vast, depressing warehouse, I'm pretty damned sure Best Buy will still take your nearly maxed out credit card.

And yet- all diabolical diatribes aside- the truly sad thing here, folks, is that... I don't know know what *I* want for Christmas. I don't NEED anything- I don't need any technology. But I HAVE to GET SOMETHING!

Enjoy your families and foodstuffs this week. And maybe, at least for that day, don't buy any shit you don't need.

BOO....HOO.


I love October.

It's about the one month out of the year here in the weather-ous (yeah that's it) Midwest where we're guaranteed at least a handful of days of non-shitty weather. Of course, that's if it's not raining all the time, or ungodly hot, or snowing. But usually there's at least a couple of gorgeous days where you can actually take a deep breath (mind the plastic grocery bags floating around) and think to yourself how damn nice all this weatherous-ness is for once.

October, as any six-year-old can tell you, is also home to Halloween which is the moon to Christmas' sun in the kid lunar landscape. I loved the crap out of Halloween as a kid- and maybe not even for the right reasons, depending on your perspective. I liked the decorations, I'd spent various times being obsessed with Frankenstein and Dracula (during neighborhoods of the year not even sharing common sidewalks with anything fall-related) and really just liked the whole idea- monsters, bats, ghosts and all that crap.

Now, I appreciate the fact that it's the only time of year it's acceptible (and even encouraged) for doctor's offices, insurance companies, and dentists to put gory rubber body parts and plastic human bones around their waiting areas- something that would be very much frowned upon in any other context- "Here for life insurance, huh? Step into my office. Mind the rubber rotting corpse- and say! My desk is a coffin!"

Wearing costumes was not something I was generally too excited about. I loved costume pieces- for a time when I was about 5 or 6 years old, I wore plastic dracula fangs constantly- even while eating- until my gums bled. When my last pair broke, it wasn't Halloween anymore, they weren't readily available in stores, and frankly, it was getting weird.

But costumes in general were always uncomfortable to me, and the idea of "becoming" someone else wasn't terribly interesting. The fake-ness of the whole thing really bugged the analytical part of my kid-brain. You could go up to your friend and say "Wow! You look EXACTLY like Batman!" and it might be a kick ass costume, but fact of the matter is, Batman is not 8. And there aren't too many popular costuming subjects that fit that sort of scrutiny when applied to a chubby little kid with glasses. I was perfectly content being that kid, watching Scooby Doo and eating macaroni and cheese.

Maybe, though, it was the fact that my mom always kind of half-assed it when it came to our costumes as a kid. She was raised frugally, and as such, so were we. Her Halloween mantra every year was, "why spend a ton of money on something you'll only wear once? This will be fine." This same mindset has since been applied to proms, weddings, and, should it come right down to it, would undoubtedly apply to funerals- "But you'll be DEAD! Just wear the nice B.U.M. Equipment shirt and weight-lifting pants we set out for you!"

As a result my brother and I had some pretty lousy costumes growing up, though we used every fiber of our being to convince ourselves otherwise. And my sister- I have no memory of her being anything but a witch for Halloween the entire time she was growing up.

I could write reams on the failed costuming attempts growing up- my brother's mummy costume that fell apart when he got to school so he ended up being an embarrassed kid in long underwear instead, or Teen Wolf (which he and I both tried on separate occasions. Fake hair from the fabric store and hot glue. You get the idea. The 'Teen' in the title just means you could wear your normal clothes instead of regulatory Wolfman attire.)

Then there was the year I went as "a cartoon character." Not a PARTICULAR cartoon character, just some kind of one, made of parts of other costumes (hobo hat, 'bang' flag gun, mickey mouse gloves, fake nose & glasses- you get the idea...) I was the unlicensed Mexican knock off, available 3 for $1, only in Family Dollar stores, in a plastic bubble that won't even stay glued to my cheap cardboard packaging, which free of any distracting graphics or information about my character- just plain brown carboard on the back for me. I should be happy to get a UPC code. They'll never know the difference. At least we had it better than those kids who had the plastic smock with a picture of who you're supposed to be on it. And a mask-front.

So- while I love the idea of Halloween dearly (I've watched "Mad Monster Party" three times this past month...) I think costumes are fine on other people, but incredibly stupid on me.

On the way to work Halloween morning, fully twice I found myself absent mindedly staring out the bus window, seeing someone in a hoaky getup, and thinking "What a jackass..."

Only the second time did I realize it was Halloween, and they were wearing costumes. Fool me once...

I then saw a group of people I was sure were wearing costumes, who it turned out were merely uber-hipsters wearing their faux-80's neon spandex and checkerboard boat shoes they wear every day, and a man in an awesome Chuck Norris costume, who it turned out was just a guy that looked like Chuck Norris.

Bah Humbug.