Thursday, November 29, 2001 :::
 

At the behest of the hoo-ha that runs this rag, here goes...

Here I sit, in my little cubicle on a conference call.... This call is a followup call from the meeting that I attended in Dallas at the beginning of the month. I've run up against a type of person at these meetings that baffles me. This type of meeting participant - I call them The Formulator disscussionus stupidus interruptus.

The Formulator is that person (I've only run into males that fit into this category - but I don't necessarily believe that it is gender specific, yet) who is mentally in left field for the course of an entire meeting because they are trying to formulate extremely insightful and smart questions to ask so that they appear sharp and useful. They seem to have a mental image of themselves as the business-guy that walks around on the 'fast track', cutting a wide swath through the dull and unwashed populace. Their view of themselves includes others watching their upward progress through the ranks of the business with the same sort of bewildered awe that is reserved for the Bill Gates' of the world. Yet, what is painfully obvious to everyone but The Formulator that they are uniformly regarded as silly and worthless fucks who are always bucking for a promotion.

The Formulator's natural habitat is the conference room or the management office - it is only around more than 5 people that they are most comfortable. Their pelt is varying shades of last season's fashionable business attire or 'business casual' taken just far enough to not be taken seriously. You can recognize The Formulator by their distinctive calls, "...Let me make sure I understand correctly..." and "...Is this the direction that the business is taking". They are most vocally active in meetings where someone higher up the food chain than they are is in the room. The sure sign that you have found a Formulator is when they interrupt a meeting to ask their version of a smart and insightful question about 15-20 minutes AFTER the group in the meeting room has closed the issue.

If you find a Formulator in the wild, ignore them. They don't matter anyway.

::: posted by MetalCat at 1:15 PM

Tuesday, November 27, 2001 :::
 

Landmines Buried In My Calendar.

Without looking I stumbled into a landmine the other morning. As my limbs went flying violently in many directions all at once I remember thinking that I didn't even hear the click of the mine arming itself. I don't know whether I snuck up on it, or if it - malicious and sadistic as all memories about the war- snuck up on me. I suppose it doesn't matter when you are lying disseminated in a pile of your own regret, but that, my friends, is the folly of emotion.

Do the math and the layout of the mine grid becomes apparent. A world population in excess of 6 billion, only a finite number of situations people can find themselves in, and the whole of our activities segmented into 365 approximate doses of existence. Not such a big field after all.

Life does not happen in a straight line. It is a continual loop over the same timeworn ground over and over and over again. The scenery changes in a predictable pattern like the weather, the sunrise and sun set, and even the habits of the people. Segment 150 of this batch of 365 will, on average, not be appreciably different than segment 150 of a block of 365 segments some 1,825 segments ago*. Same time, same ground, but each time we leave our different marks. Each of us have our segments of significance that mark a variegated menu of emotions. We record them, and then, we live for them.

So here I was minding my own business immersed in a book written in such a way that I knew I could scarcely do better. I looked up in just enough time to catch myself fly to pieces. Land Mine...segment 329, never saw it coming unless you count vague notions sometime previous when it occurred to me 329 was approaching. I was forced to put down my book about German Decipherment and to put my various pieces and parts back into order. Not a long chore but one that gave me pause. And in that pause blossomed a thought that I had grown tired of thinking about even before it became unfashionable. The thought: A ghost is not a soul. It sounds like rubbish, I admit, but it means something to me; I think I read it in a book. It means that where you might see the wispy outlines of a thing doesn't mean you are seeing a thing that has substance. It is simply a recorded message left after the beep and etched into the terrain on a previous pass through.

I eventually came to my senses and got back to my book, but not after having to endure a flashing landmine of my own design. Reminds me of a Sting song, as I think about it.

* = This does not account for intentional shifts in the segmentation every 4th 365 segment cycle.

::: posted by Mike at 11:00 AM

Monday, November 19, 2001 :::
 

Was This Trip really Necessary?

So I go and see Harry Potter this weekend. Why? Because Time-Warner told me to and I'm a good little monkey.

Anyway, they spent a lot of money on it and it shows. There was good production design, the effects were OK (every thing except the Quittich Match), the actors all hit there marks and gave their lines, but there was something missing. After two days I think I've put my finger on it.

At this point I feel you should know I'm going to give away the ending. But the film made 93 million dollars this weekend so if you haven't seen it your A) in a coma; B) destitute; or C) not one of Time-Warner's little monkeys.

After the final battle, Harry wakes up in the infirmary in the school and it's reviled that only a person who did not want to use the sorcerer's stone would be able to obtain it. So...this begs the question, why bother with the whole movie? If the bad guy who wanted the stone more than anyone else had no real chance of ever getting it, why go through the motions of this futile exercise? I could be missing something, maybe there was something in the book that the bad guy was powerful enough that he could have gotten the stone anyway, but that seems like one of the important things that you would not want to leave out. With a running time of 2 and half I don't think they left a whole lot out to begin with. And maybe this is Harry's greatest trick, to make millions of people give $7 and almost three hours of there lives so that in the last 10 minutes they make the plot disappear.

Now it is true that the story is set in a school so perhaps having Harry risk his life and the lives of his friends for a pointless adventure is kind of like Algebra. It's not necessary but it's still mandatory. As plot holes go this film has to be in the top 10, but with all the records it's breaking it will never take the Plot Hole Crown away from Star Trek: Generations.

It would be in poor tact to put too much energy into tearing up a story that has been the reason so many children have recently picked up a book to read for fun, and maybe, just maybe, the ones who have only seen the movie will decide to read the book in hopes that it has to be better than this exercise in printing money for Time-Warner.

::: posted by Anonymous at 3:33 AM

Sunday, November 18, 2001 :::
 

In 1985 Hasbro must have brokered some sort of Faustian deal with the devil. I mean, it's not as if they were hurting for profits with the sale of toys that promoted the enchantment of warfare in all its form. Those toys were doing well. But apparently that sort of profit just didn't appeal to them. They had to conquer more market share. So, in keeping with this lust to capture new demographics, they simply put themselves in a partnership with the Prince of Darkness and consummated this sick pact to corner all segments of the market with one toy that made it unsafe to be a male man-cub in the mid 1980's.


I still think back to those days and shutter. My blood congeals in my veins and my brain rings and vibrates a theme song that is best described as infectious. But that was the black magic Hasbro marketing intended. I was supposed to hear the song. Then, I was supposed to learn the song. And finally, like some soon-to-be-veal baby cow being lead to the death chute, I was suppose to live the song. I was supposed to just sit back and let that Goddamned commercial jingle burrow itself deep into the developing tissue of my brain until I stood up and demanded my parents to buy me a My Buddy(™ HASBRO TOYS 1985). If I was a good little American consumer that was supposed to be the plan.

I must admit, they thought of everything. The song said it all. A perfect friend, this My Buddy™. Where I'd go, he'd go. I'd teach all the things that I know (which at age 10 wasn't a helleva lot, but still). My Buddy™ and me we could climb up a tree. My Buddy™ and me could be the best friends that could be. Think about it. Not only did I get the opportunity for friendship as true and pure as un-cut pharmaceutical grade cocaine, but I could mold him. Yes, mold him in my own image. And it would stick. It wouldn't be some bullshit failed experiment of free will versus divinity like some leading brand messiahs, this would be the real deal. A buddy that would listen and learn. Hasbro even tried to make it where all the kids could play along regardless of race with the inclusion of the colored My Buddy™ (with a single skin tone, Blacks and Hispanics had to share, of course). While the other kids were digging in the dirt making GI Joe overthrow Cobra Commander and then celebrate my fondling the plasti-form parts of a naked Barbie, I would be instilling universal principles and infallible truths in My Buddy™. But it didn't work.


I knew it immediately. I don't know if this made me special or a grossly inappropriate demographic, or both. But something didn't sit right with me. Something seemed unnatural, hell immoral, about carting a doll around. Because, let's face it, that's what it was. Forget for a second all the implied euphoria of the joy-laden images from the commercial, this boy running happily with My Buddy™. Clear your mind of the promise that being a backyard Master Deity entails. When you do all that and break it down, in the final analysis it is a boy playing with dolls and a boy playing with dolls is pretty fucking gay. The commercials promised so very much, but remember, the Nazi's used to make commercials for kids too!


Knowing at the age of 10 that I was not, nor did I wish to be, homosexual given to bouts of mad delight while thrusting my boy-toy about in gay pleasure, my mind and spirit remind impregnable against the diablerie of Satan and his corporate flunky, Hasbro. The attempt to steal my manhood and leave future mankind vulnerable to the beguilement of evil had failed.


Boys will always play with toys, a fact of childhood this is. Army soldiers, futuristic star crusaders, and other forms of combat-oriented figures and themes. But a line is crossed when boys are asked to forgo their normal curiosities about carnage and conflict and they are asked to change doll cloths and be a life mate to a 2 pound Chinese-made sack of foam. Not a day goes by that I do not thank my maker that I did not fall prey.

An update of that devilish partnership. Hasbro and its underworld pact did finally come to an end. In the 1990's Satan, always looking for a way to undermine the moral foundation of children and idiots alike, joined forces with Saban and bankrolled The Power Rangers where seemingly ordinary teenagers donned campy outfits and drove around ostentatious tiger-cars. This was just following the introduction of Barney, a purple dinosaur that only children could see, and years before the multinational phenomenon of Pokemon.

If the Baptists are to believed, Satan is currently working on projects such as Harry Potter, but I think he has more fiendish plans to dupe in the weak-minded. Stay tuned.

::: posted by Mike at 9:43 PM

Monday, November 12, 2001 :::
 

What a sad lot are we.

I am hearing more and more talk about changes that are being made to our entertainment landscape, specifically where the World Trade Center is concerned.

The first I heard of this was a report that the Spiderman trailer was pulled because of the way it prominently featured the WTC. Then there were other movies that were due to open around the same time as the attacks. These were being changed because of their NYC backdrop that included the WTC. Films such as Serendipity and Don't Say A Word . There was even a case where a punk band had a CD pulled from shelves; its cover featuring the WTC in flames. This CD was released before the attacks, before it became in bad taste to depict an American landmark under the duress of violent attack. I could have fun with that premise, but it is another issue entirely.

These changes bother me. After the sucker punch that was dealt to the nation I can understand that we might need some space. We might not need to be reminded immediately that what was is no more. And it might not be beneficial to rub our noses in the fact that people are lost and buildings are smoldering as they spit ash and death into the atmosphere. I get that, I do. But as with all things that involve the molding of perception in America, it gets taken to ridiculous extremes. The idea of providing space that wasn’t that bad of an idea somehow gets perverted into an effort to surgically remove our hardship. Sort of like amputating your left arm because of the Mother of All Hangnails on you left hand.

Let me make this as clear as I can. It is wrong to go back into artistic history and change it to conform to the modern world. I am going to type this again to make sure I didn't screw it up the first time. It is wrong to go back into artistic history and change it to conform to the modern world. Art (be it paintings, writing, drawings, sculpture, photography, or motion pictures) stands as a monument to the world at thatmoment. While I realize that including a sugary-sweet chick flick about John Cusak being fatefully in love is a monumental broadening of art's definition, I think you understand my point. Everything that is created makes impressions, regardless of how overt or how subtle, upon the world around it. To reach back into that creation and re-work it on the sole grounds that it makes the art more comforting is bullshit. Total Bullshit.

There is a movement starting that I fear might culminate into action. It is the belief that in addition to the changes we have already made to give the nation space there must be further action to make the world safer and life better. This is going to be accomplished by going back, into film specifically as it is the most pervasive example of imagery, and take out the WTC. That's right, just wipe it out. Take it out, like the digitally re-touched skyline that removes the twin towers will actually bring people back to life and erase the collective pain of a nation. I say again, Bullshit.

Let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that we expand this preposterous theorem. Suppose we applied this rule to the events of history. Our history is littered with examples of carnage and death whose survivors did not benefit from musical tributes of John Lennon songs and grave-walking celebrities. Further suppose that we are not a shallow generation of Americans that believes our more modern pain makes us interesting; makes us special. What changes could we make to erase the hardships of loss?

Mein Kampf – This was no fairy tale. This was a book Hitler wrote in prison years before he was ever in a position to command the atrocities that have been attributed to him. Guess what, this story does not have a happy ending. Hitler went on to share the opinions and ideas contained in this book and then move a civilization of patriots to challenge the world. This was part of the schematic for genocide. Genocide is not something we all get the warm fuzzies over. So why don’t we just obliterate this offering to historical literature from the earth. Round up all known copies and (to complete the metaphor) burn them? Better yet, why don’t we just re-write the parts that remind us of the Third Reich’s crimes against humanity?

Texas Schoolbook Depository - Every generation or so has that event where a nation loses its “innocence”. This is a popular term used to impart the enormity of the moment so that it might speak from history into the future. In 1940’s it was Pearl Harbor that wore this mantle. The 1960’s also had one of these moments. It’s said that every American who was alive and able then can tell you where they were when Kennedy was shot. It was another one of those red-circle days. On a baby-kissing tour through Downtown Dallas, JFK took one for the team. The shooter allegedly fired from the Sixth Floor of the Texas Schoolbook Depository. There is no doubt this was a major blow to the confidence of a nation. And to further say that the nation’s innocence was lost is no small thing. I mean innocence from a nation whose cherry was popped by decades of beating down civil rights movements and trampling the liberties of its citizens because of their skin color is a hard thing to extract. So why didn’t we, recognizing the national agony felt by the assassination, just bulldoze all of Dealy Plaza. Why didn’t our fathers and grandfathers at the time use heavy equipment to rip out the structures that have found permanence in our memories?

A less deadly example…

1986 World Series – Game 7- The Boston Red Sox had it all but won. Their first World Series Title since 1918. The curse of the Bambino was putting on its coat to be ushered past the threshold of history. But then, as if he had made a contract for his soul with the black artists of diablerie, Mookie Wilson hit a gimme groundball through Bill Buckner’s legs at first base and the game, ultimately the series, was lost. To this day, Shea Stadium, the backdrop for this indignity, still stands some 15 years later.

These are trumped up examples, I know. But the fact remains that our history is just that. Whether better days or worse, pretty pictures or not, what lies behind us has got to be captured and locked into our memory of what the world was like.

Take a walk through any art museum with a wealth of classical European art. More Christ than you can count. If the entire body of European art from about 1575-1700 were a radio format, it would be All Crucifixion All The Time. Regardless of our religious principles, we cannot paint over the nails just because we don’t agree with the politics of Pontius Pilate or because it makes us sad.

I wrote earlier of Hitler and his book. There exists no better-publicized example of the effects of human depravity than images of concentration camps such as Auschwitz. Yet today, half a century later in the Polish countryside Auschwitz still stands. It stands as a reminder of pain and hardship and as a monument to the healing that can come to a people when they are not fixated on the pettiness of a panacea.

Whether or not these WTC changes will be made is still yet to be determined. But just the mention of them speaks volumes about the emotional intelligence of our nation. To answer my own question put forth earlier about why our fathers and grandfathers didn’t lay ruin to Dallas’ most inauspicious landmark I can say only this: Sometimes it takes more strength and is more meaningful to rise above suffering in the shadow of that suffering than it is to run and not learn anything at all.

::: posted by Mike at 2:11 PM

Sunday, November 11, 2001 :::
 

Harry Potter and the True Evil that is America

I am a member of an Absolutely Fabulous discussion forum. Someone from England had posted that they saw the new Harry Potter movie and they talked about how they had liked it. Lately I've noticed flipping though channels on the religious stations that they have been critisizing the movie, books, and everything that is surrounding this phenomenom. So out of curiousity I had asked if they had heard any of this: that Harry Potter is evil. Well anyway I turned the tables on the actually topic. Someone from America had posted that it they are saying disparaging comments about it because it deals with witchcraft. It just got me thinking how incredibly ignorant and judgemental they are being about something they probably never even bothered to read.

I don't understand there reasoning of what makes it so horrible. I mean those books have led millions of kids to take up reading. In America, we're lucky that something has actually made a difference in children to make them want to pick up a book. It has promoted imaginative and creative thinking for kids. There is nothing evil about it. Why should the whole witchcraft thing matter? If the truth to you is Christianity, and you have placed this belief in your children it shouldn't be a problem as long as they can distiguish the truth from imagination. It is a way for them to escape, to not have to think about their problems. It also helps them relieve their stress which we adults tend to not acknowledge. So why is it so bad? I don't think that there are children everywhere taking up witchcraft on the account of reading Harry Potter.

There was a very interesting review of the movie that someone had posted a link to. It is a british magazine called The Observer. A critic named Julie Myerson wrote about the new movie and she made comments about how Harry Potter isn't exactly an original movie. She points out that many of the scenes were from classic movies and stories that many probably people wouldn't label as evil. She basically says that it's a combination of movies like Mary Poppins, Snow White, Alice in Wonderland, and Oliver Twist. So really JK Rowling hasn't created anything new, she has cleverly incorporated the magiacal things out of other stories into one Harry Potter.

I guess I should get to the point of why I titled this the way I did. I've been thinking more in depth than just Harry Potter. It makes me angry that we live in a society where people feel the need to bitch and moan about anything and everything. I am mainly talking about movies. We are always hearing of groups telling people to boycott movies because a movie might make fun something that offends them, most recently Shallow Hal. This crap goes on all the time in America. I spoke of this on the forums and many of the British people on there can't understand why we have to read so deeply into movies and books. The movie Shallow Hal was an okay flick, and it did poke fun at obese people. The main message of it though wasn't about making fun overweight people. The message was clear: outer appearances shouldn't matter, it's inner beauty that does. Really, I think the group who has a problem with it ought to be promoting it, not boycotting it! Besides how can you make a comedy and not make fun of something? I mean isn't that what comedy is? All comedies make references to: race, age, sex, intelligence, and everything else we could think of as discrimanitory. People are too uptight and take things too seriously. People need to be realistic and realize that we all have biases whether we believe it or not.

I felt the need to vent my frustrations about this. There are too many Americans that are ignorant and I can't stand it! I do love being American, it's just that there are so many that are so incredibly narrowminded and flat out stupid by their own choice. I will end this by saying a line from the britcom Absolutely Fabulous which probably most won't get:
"Just tax the stupid people!"

::: posted by Anonymous at 3:45 PM

Saturday, November 10, 2001 :::
 

Quick Note:

I was waiting for Rob to show up to a movie yesterday. We were meeting to see HEIST. That is what it turned out to be. David Mammet should have just jumped out of the shadows of my stables and held me up for $5 bucks. It would have been quicker and I wouldn't have had to sit through a weak story that was propped up by dialogue doing its best Aaron Sorkin impression, i.e. fast and intelligently crafted. Notice my use of the word impression. This is best left to a Random Noise review.

Anyway, I was waiting for Rob, when all of a sudden this little boy about 2 years old started running at me saying "MAN, MAN". He was laughing as he ran and was running with only one sock on. By his mother's reaction, the other sock was apparently MIA. So this kid just runs up and gives me a big (for 2 years old) bear hub on my leg. After a moment of awkwardness, like when your neighbor's dog humps your leg, I picked him up and handed him off to his mother.

"He really likes men," she said to me.

"Let's hope that enthusiasm fades with age," I said in a joking "Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Homos" tone.

She didn't get it. I didn't try again.

The mother then went on to tell me that she had four other kids. Four, making this little leg-hugger five! I told her I applauded her patience. I didn't tell her I was scared by her ability to turn her female sex organs into some kind of fantastic conveyor belt of human procreation. She seemed proud. I let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, I let it be.

Rob showed up as she was finishing some story I don't remember and the two of us went inside. He asked me who she was and I told him I didn't know. Just some lady who has shouldered the responsibility of keeping the species thriving.

::: posted by Mike at 9:42 AM

Tuesday, November 06, 2001 :::
 

Where I work there is a phrase that confounds me.

We are a company of many processes and systems. Each of these systems and processes are designed to be a check and/or balance to an already established Master Process or Master System...I know, I know, sounds like the Federal Government. We actually employ as many if not more people than the Federal Government so that should tell you the level of needless complication I am immersed in on a daily basis. But that was my choice; I didn't have to work here.

Now, understanding that these systems and processes are designed as checks and balances, it doesn't require too much stretching and bending of the imagination to believe that if these processes and systems are manipulated, an unfair advantage could be realized by the manipulator in certain situations. This is getting boring, I know, but bear with me...there is a pay-off on the way.

OK, the management at all levels of the company realizes that the manipulation of the grossly aforementioned systems and processes could lead to the already referenced advantage for those who manipulate the processes and systems, but what can they do? I mean these systems and processes are the checks and balances of Master Systems and Master Processes. On the one hand their vulnerability to manipulation is known and documented, but on the other they are necessary to maintain equilibrium of not only the Master Processes and Master Systems but also every subsequent system and process that feeds into the whole mechanism. I repeat, what can they do?

Here's what they do and this leads to the phrase that confounds me (promised pay-off is forthcoming).

Every once and a while when making reference to measurements (metrics, if you prefer) or results that are the product of these processes or systems, they mention to one and all that these results and metrics (measurements, if you prefer) are of vital importance and in order to maintain the integrity and value of these results it is important that no one who these results impact do anything to consciously affect their outcome. To do so would taint the end results. To do so would compromise the system or the process. To do so would be unnatural behavior. And we can't have unnatural behavior. Rome was destroyed by unnatural behavior. The terrorists have won if we engage in unnatural behavior.

Here's the rub.

Human activity can be measured in a one to one scenario fairly successfully. One input, one outcome, one theory attributed to said outcome. But as you begin to increase the number of inputs you invariably increase the number of outcomes...so, in order to get a more "model friendly" set of outcomes you have suspend certain factors of the inputs so that you can control the appearance of the outcome. This is basic statistical modeling...and did I mention boring. Dear God it’s dreadful. So I'll get this out quickly.

This attempt to control inputs and outputs and then make a generalization about the results is simply just looking at the results in aggregate. They do this all the time like when they try to figure out the relationship between Red Meat Consumption and Porn, or which state buys the most avocados at a certain price range. The problem with all of this is the assumptions you have to make and the things you have to suspend to arrive at that aggregate model. The biggest thing suspended right off the bat is the reaction to all other inputs EXCEPT that one which is being tested. This makes looking at human behavior in the aggregate impossible and that is what vexes me about the statement "unnatural behavior".

Simply put, if a person has a proclivity to behave in a certain fashion, then in most situations that person is more likely behave that way than not. So...if put in a position where he can push and pull certain levers to achieve a specific outcome that is in his favor, and he has reason to believe he will be rewarded for that behavior, then irrespective of the admonishments he receives to behave to the contrary, he will, in fact, conform to his nature and behave in that natural way.

What’s worse is the paradox that exists if he actually follows the intention of the rule rather than the rule itself. The rule is designed to keep people from willingly and knowingly altering the inputs of the processes and the systems. So if the person follows that intention and does not alter the input they are acting against their nature are engaging in unnatural behavior. But wait, there’s more. Suppose that they did follow the stated rule and ceased in the commission of unnatural behavior, wouldn’t that mean that they were following their nature and changing the inputs of the systems and the processes?

This is just one example of what happens when you get a group of seemingly intelligent humans together and tell them to be successful. In the end, in addition to whatever successes or failures that are achieved, there exists a whole paradoxical language that, much like this whole essay, says absolutely nothing!

::: posted by Mike at 8:37 PM

Monday, November 05, 2001 :::
 

This post is a few days late…but bear with me.

A few days ago I bought some candy. I didn’t do it for me, mind you, but for the throngs of kids that I just knew were going to be knocking my door down demanding tricks or treats. But, much to my dismay, they never came. Not one. At 10pm when I switched the porch light off I glanced over to the candy bowl and there it sat as full as that night’s harvest moon. Not once did the doorbell ring. Halloween was, well, hollow (pardon the stretch to make the pun complete).

I accept the fact that living in the country automatically limits the number of kids I am going to be exposed to. I mean, my town has 1500 people in it for Christ’s sake. Add to that the fact that I am on the last street in the city. Then consider that my front door is about 50 yards from the street. When you take all these things into account it is understandable that I might not see that throng I was expecting…but none? Zero? Not a single Pokemon, or witch, or ghost, or dead president? Then I remembered we are a nation under siege being subjugated by our own deepest fears. Then it all made sense.

I remember a Halloween that used to be more wholesome and easier to negotiate. You knew that the people with their lights off were Satan worshipers who ate the flesh of children and to not go knocking there. You new which houses gave the cheap candy so you only knocked when you were desperate. You even knew exactly where all the dentists lived in the neighborhood because you avoided them worst of all. They didn’t even give candy; they gave toothbrushes and dental floss…Dental Floss! You were better off taking your chances at the door of the unlit devil-worshiping house than getting dental hygiene appliances. Point is, you knew, you just knew.

Back then you even expected some foul play. There was not a child alive that wasn’t given the old “straight-pins in your apple” speech. But that was OK. It was the only time of the year when the adults would actually dissuade the consumption of fruits and encourage eating pre-packaged candies. And we all knew that kid that got the pot brownies or got home and dumped out his bag to find a hypodermic needle and a dirty, burnt spoon. We expected it as the occupational hazard of tricking and treating. Trick, Treat, Or Aids Infected Syringe the kids would scream in my neighborhood.

These are different days indeed. Sure we fear straight-pins in the apples, and we are fearful of the syringe just used in an overdose cocktail, but I don’t think there has ever been a time when we fear everything to the point of total suppression. Anthrax in the mail? Sure a little. Anthrax in the Capitol? Yeah, but less than in the mail. But Anthrax in the Snickers Bar or Small Pox in the Kit Kat bar…please. Overreaction becomes sweeping paranoia in an instant…beware. And don’t scare the kids. It’s not fair to them.

Kids are not daft and they know when Mom and Dad are scared. But when Mom and Dad start measuring them for a bubble they might not know that they are being position to live a live of fear that flinches even in the face of legitimate movements. They might not realize that the sunlight can’t kill them. They might not realize that suspicion of your neighbors because of their skin tone or religious practices is a wrong thing, an immoral thing.

I hope next year will be different. I hope to have the throngs return to my doorstep under the harvest moon so I can fill their bags with Anthrax-free Snickers Bars and Small Pox-free Kit Kat bars until my bowl runs empty. They can say what they want about our nation recovering, but until my doorbell rings and I answer it to find Abe Lincoln demanding tricks, treats, or straight-pin Apple Strudel, I will question the reality of that recovery.

::: posted by Mike at 9:43 AM