The One Where I Bash Halloween

Halloween.  That long awaited eve where tiny cherubs and teenage hooligans alike dance under the moonlight, showered in a cascade of confectionery.  Puffy cheeks envelop dainties of all manner and proportion. Chubby fingers covered in the sticky gloss of booty most divine.  To this great night I say…WHAT IN THE HECK ARE WE DOING?

This ain’t the post about how EVIL Halloween is.  You are perfectly capable of Googling all of that jazz.  (BTW-It IS evil. So there.) THIS post is a jump off from I quote I heard today.  A quote from an extremely wise person.  Here it is:

“People say, ‘Halloween is for the candy and the kids’.  Yeah, so are Chi-Mo vans!”  No kidding!  Halloween is the one night a year that child molesters don’t have to waste any gas money!

“Yeah, taking the kids out for Halloween.”

“What is this…Halloween?”

“Oh, you know, you dress up your tiny tots as Pixar characters, take them around to strangers houses and ask for candy.”

“Really?  Do you drive a long distance to do this?”

“Heck, no, I just go to the neighbors’ houses.”

“Well, alrighty then.”

The whole day is just sad.   Yay, another day that I am REQUIRED to spend a ton of money on costumes, candy and decorations.  My reward?  Oh, getting fat on my kids candy until Thanksgiving.  No thanks.  Not to mention the unspoken “graduation” that occurs. You know the one:

“But Mommy, why can’t I be a Elizabeth Cady Stanton for Halloween?”

“Oh dear, you are a hoot! Everyone knows when you turn nine you have to dress like a prostitute for Halloween.”

(Child wrinkles nose in confusion.)

“Don’t worry dear, Mommy did it when she was eleven!  Be glad!  We’ve come a LONG way!”

“Annnnnnnd, you also get to Trick or Treat by YOURSELF this year while MOMMY makes margaritas.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“Oh and uh, stay away from old man Crandall’s house.”

In case you couldn’t tell, I have a slightly different opinion about Halloween.  No fear…I won’t judge you for doing it with your children.  Much.

Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhha!

 

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Sustainable Farming Under Attack

I am going to break my own rule and get a little political today.  A fellow Facebook-er put up a link to a video that made me so upset  I could spit red hot nails.

What’s the story?  Quail Hollow Farm, a CSA, located in Overton, Nevada was set to have a dinner to showcase the beautiful benefits of sustainable farming practices.  Farm fresh meats, produce, eggs, honey are produced locally on the farm.  All waste is effectively used as compost to nourish future crops.  Located in a quiet setting, the farm harkens back to the good ole days with a touch of modern flair.  The idea is “if they can do it, anyone can.”  A simple, elegant message that deserves praise in a time of excess and  waste.

Praise, unfortunately, did not come on the evening of October 21st, 2011.  What happened was a fiasco so Orwellian in nature that I struggle to even believe it.  What truly amazes me is that this would happen HERE in the United States when the “People of Tolerance” are in power.

The video link is here.

Here is a link to the article.

Read it.  Even if you don’t give a rip about sustainable farming, take the time to apply it to an area that you do give a rip about.  The government came in, tried to shut down a dinner because the food was not under the caring concern of our champions, the USDA.  The food not only had to be thrown away, it was deemed unfit for pigs.  The health inspector required that bleach be poured all over the food, lest the upstart farmers fish it out of the trashcans and eat it.

Is this America?  I know that sounds cliche, but a statement that makes sense of this situation completely eludes me.  I can understand that environmentalists have a beef with Big Agriculture.  I get it.  But this?  This farm represents the perfect “balance” as championed by environmentalists!  When something as ludicrous as this occurs I have to ask, do environmentalists realize who they are in bed with?  How does it feel to have linked arms with the government so tightly?  How does it feel to have your message hijacked and used to control innocent people?  You don’t see it?  Then tell me exactly what these people did wrong.  Oh, and after that, tell me how the government needs to instruct me on what I can and cannot give to my family.  Where has common sense gone?  If the government doesn’t tell me what I can feed my kids, I may just decide to give them bleach to drink.  Is that what it has come to?  Pish Posh.

I don’t want to live in a land where I am told the wage I WILL be making, the food I WILL be eating, the housing I WILL be living in, the work I WILL be doing, the clothes I WILL be wearing,  the number of children I WILL be having, the number of items I WILL be owning, the amount of money I WILL be “donating”.  That is not freedom.  That is life on the plantation.  And this country has shed too much blood, and fought too hard to go back to the plantation.  Wake up.  Wake up.  Wake up.

Fyffe UFO Daze: What Just Happened Here?

I Came To Party

Maybe I missed something.  Maybe I missed the true meaning of UFO, because this party was dull.  I imagined families getting into the UFO spirit and dressing up.  Children flocking to the face painting booth to be made up like little green men.  T shirt stands that sold novelty shirts that looked like Star Trek uniforms or had sayings like “Never Trust A Klingon”.  I envisioned a giant UFO bounce house, concession stands with alien concoctions and out of this world fare.  A band would play songs that were reminiscent of alien tunes.  Synthesizers, beeping and the occasional selection from 2001: A Space Odyssey or Star Wars.  Heck I would have taken an obnoxious out of towner in an Alf costume!

Supposedly the area was hit with a rash of actual UFO sightings and cattle mutilations.  So, one would think there would be a “traveling wall”  that chronicled the sightings.  And maybe, just maybe some of the old farts who witnessed said UFO activity could stand around and tell us eager nerds some saucerific yarns. An alien fun house.  Something.   But neeeeeeeeooooo!

What we got was flea market lite.  Vendors sold purses, BIRD HOUSES, and hematite necklaces.  The bands played spirituals and hymns.  (I LOVE spirituals and hymns, but not in relation to UFO’s.)  The food was typical and expensive with nothing exciting in sight. (No deep fried Oreo’s: the epitome of alien food.)  We got shaved ice and lemonade from a very nice couple.  Friendliness was definitely not in short supply.  That wasn’t my issue.  I asked Jacob several times where the aliens were?  We were perplexed.

The bounce houses were giraffes, the prizes at the game booths were clown fish and cowgirl hats.  Oh, and to the vendor with the STUPID-“Put on your big girl panties…” shirts, please burn the shirts.  No one wants that airbrush junk.

Maybe we went to early, but we were there long enough to be very disappointed.  Fyffe UFO Days could be something AMAZING.  For now its just an Unfortunate Forgettable Opinicus.