Tag Archives: Halloween
Tricks and Treats and Booklets of Satanists Sacrificing Cats… Oh the Things You’ll Get on Halloween Night.
By Andrew Blumetti
Yes, that classic old story again.
So, it’s November (or as I call it, “Not October”) and alas, Halloween is sadly over.
Back when he donned the eclipse-causing high hair and rat’s-nest-mullet like a first-rate 80’s champ, Jon Bon Jovi may have semi-eloquently declared, “Never say goodbye.”, but Jon, you schmaltzy-optomistic nut, the calendar says we have to.
Don’t get me wrong, Christmastime has this indescribable feel of childlike wonderment, whimsy, and snow-filled magic, and I cannot wait for the smell of freshly cut evergreens, peppermint and Nat King Cole’s gravely pipes belting out beloved yuletide carols while I spend 45-minutes searching for a parking spot outside Best Buy just to have to deal with the brainless derelicts inside. Nonetheless, Halloween still holds a special place in my heart which is difficult to recreate no matter how many times I watch Rudolph gleefully reach for the heavens after dreamy doe, Clarice, says that she thinks he’s cute.
I love working on my lawn display, frequenting crowded haunted houses with fellow-ghoul lovin’ friends, and browsing Halloween stores complete with massive lines of shoppers snaking out the door. And even though the 160+ candy-hungry trick-or-treaters didn’t leave me with an ounce of sugary junk to snack on, it was still a blast and a half.
…but much like that rascally ragamuffin Gary Coleman taught us— different folks, different strokes…
My neighborhood, a small and quiet tree-filled suburb in Northern New Jersey is a safe and delightfully boring little town that has not just one, but two CVS’s and now two 7-11’s. I’ve had the same neighbors since I can remember, the parking is ample, the lawns are lush and green in the summertime, and everywhere you look, a playful bunny is hopping around freshly-planted vegetable gardens like a delightful children’s book with a well-worn spine.
With a few exceptions, we’ve had very little changeover in the neighbor roll-call over the years– most of the families are longtime residents who’ve now had their children grow up here and start adorable families of their own.
And I suppose with that kind of boring consistency, you don’t really get around to greeting the new folks as fast as you should when they actually do move in.
Mr. Rogers would be so disappointed in me. That’s not very neighborly after all. You should really take a few minutes to welcome your neighbor, because who knows? They could be Kate Upton, they could be your new best friend, or maybe, just maybe, you may want to keep an eye on them cause they could be just a bit odd.
But hey, who amongst us isn’t a little bit?
Well, that fickle little needle on the odd scale went from “a bit” to “Holy crow, it’s Christopher Walken after a dozen Mountain Dews” this past Thursday, October 31st.
It was an unseasonably mild and relatively overcast Halloween afternoon. The breeze was nearly non-existent, and the weak late-October sun had given the ‘ol college try attempting to dry up the shallow puddles of collected rain that had fallen earlier in the morning. After the schools were dismissed, my nephew and niece were in the area to do some trick-or-treating with my family to the local neighbors’ houses while I manned the door at home. As it usually goes with the kiddies, excited spirits and happy feet soon turned to exhausted spirits and fatigued feet, as the joy of a spooktastic day soon began to show its age. They returned home, and being the generous and giving uncle I am, I volunteered to help “sort out the candy”, which in layman’s terms, means “vulture-pick the kids’ freshly-earned candy stash”.
After laying down some immediate damage to a bag of Reese’s Pieces, I looked down, where amongst the crinkly piles of Butterfinger and gummy bear wrappers, we saw this staring back at us…
Holy moly on toast with jelly, what is this we have here?
My taste buds did a backflip cause- hey, isn’t that one of those Wendy’s coupon books for ten free Frosty ice cream treats? Oh glorious day!
But no, this find should not be so sweet.
One peek inside, and we were greeting with lecturing, the cornerstone of any fun-filled Halloween. Which is kind of an odd choice, considering we decided to give out Cheetos, M&M’s and Swedish Fish.
Now, for the record, I don’t have any problem with any kind of religion whatsoever. My family is Catholic, and whatever floats your boat is cool with me. I couldn’t care less if someone’s Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or if they pray to photos of Sofia Vergara’s bowling ball-shaped kid from Modern Family.
All sensitivity aside, and with that being said, this beaut was too unsettling and gaul-darn hilarious to not share with the world, cause man alive, we apparently have some new neighbors who are borderline bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S.
This is still better than finding Mary Janes in your bag though…
You may come home, tired from a long night of trick-or-treating, dump out that heavy bag full of sugary candy on the floor and count seven Milky Ways, five Snickers bars and a couple of Dubble Bubbles, but really, how many preachy books of cats about to be sliced up on a pentagrammed-alter do you have?
Not enough, right?
Now I know why there’s no cats around the neighborhood. …and less cats means more mice… which means LESS CHEESE!!!! Now they’ve gone too far…
Twick or tweet! (apparently Satan is on Twitter now)
Just remember, Halloween’s no joke kids.
…except for this one:
-Why did the ghost go to the bar?
For the “boos”.
Common sense would tell you, being the devil, you wouldn’t need a scary costume, cause ya know, you’re the evilest thing in existence, and the culmination of all the world’s hatred, malevolence, and terror. Heck, people shell out a pretty penny just to dress like you on Halloween.
…but hey, that Party City coupon for that killer spooky pumpkin costume was just too good to resist.
Bad news: Human sacrifices will increase, so you’ll most likely be hacked to bits by guys in scratchy-looking cloaks who moonlight as roadies for Zakk Wylde.
Good news: You won’t have to sit through another season of The Neighbors.
Did you know?: Witchcraft is “exploding” among teens today? Looks like Bieber Fever is quickly being replaced with “witch itch”.
Blumes note: Don’t mind that sour drawing of John Favreau. He’s just bummed cause he blew a first-round pick on Ray Rice for his fantasy football team this year.
Oh Satan you soulpatched-silly goose, the last time I trusted you, you pranked me by unscrewing the cap on the salt shaker.
Ruined my dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets…
Written and illustrated by Andrew
Holy moly on toast, we’re finally here!
Before our mouths start watering for delicious turkeys and the stores become packed to the brim with mistletoe and holly, we still have enough gas in the tank for one last spooky blast on this lovely October 31st.
But… well… did you notice something is a bit different? Call me nuts, but I’ve got that sinking feeling something just doesn’t feel totally right. Kind of like when Urkel’s voice hit puberty and that squeak of his soon morphed into a sound one would best describe as an alley cat vomiting on top another alley cat vomiting on a hobo being run over by a street sweeper playing Nickelback at full volume.
Let’s do a checklist…
- Bags of candy are ready for the trick-or-treaters? CHECK.
- Is my Halloween display is at full tilt? CHECK.
- Have I now eaten all of said bags of candy, leaving the trick-or-treaters crap outta luck? DOUBLE CHECK.
Well, that survey is clearly air tight… so why does it feel like something’s simply off this October? Reminds me of when they switched Harleys on Boy Meets World for one episode, not thinking we’d even notice.
Wait a pumpkin pickin’ minute…
EUREKA! Much like Catherine O’Hara finally realizing she left Kevin McCallister at home by himself for Christmas, it’s hit me!
WHERE’S THE FREAKIN’ McRIB?!?
It’s been an oh-so tasty October tradition for years as those McDonald’s golden arches become a bit
more greasy shinier when our collective mouthbuds salivate in all their fast food barbecue-y glory at the sight of this limited-time-menu item.
Never before have sauce-slathered pork, pickles and onions created such a rabid cult following, as rib-heads chase this high-caloric thing around the country as if Jerry Garcia was wailing away on it with his nine-and-a-half fingers.
Usually, the phantom sandwich nestles it’s way into our beating hearts for just a few short delicious weeks, eventually rushing back into hibernation for another agonizing 11-months that we have to live with just stupid regular food.
In 2012, the Mickey-D’s powers-that-be ponderously decided to delay the McRib’s usual autumn release until December, to strengthen a usually slow-sales period, help anticipation grow, and make Santa even fatter.
So far, the porkless wait is excruciating as this fall seems to be following the same test-your-fast food-patience pattern as last year, although according to Facebook’s McRib Locator, this currently flatlined ribless-autumn may finally have a blip of a heartbeat as elusive scattered McRib sightings have started showing up in select states. Hopefully leading into what hopefully will be a full-scale release before year’s end so I won’t have to keep writing weekly angry letters to the Hamburglar.
So, it makes you wonder… with all this newly-found time off, just how has the McRib been spending his downtime this Halloween season?
Lucky for us, the aggressive paparazzi never sleeps a wink, and being the invasive monsters they are, TMZ happened to snap a few pictures of just what happens when mass-produced pork has the time of its McLife.
Strap in folks, things are gonna get saucy …
- You can believe McRib’s shaking in his boots watching things go bump in the night in during a Paranormal Activity marathon…
- Everyone knows no Halloween season is complete without going all horror punk and blasting some Misfits.
- His playlist:
- “HyRIB Moments”
- “Return of the Fries”
- “We Are 13-Ate”
- One cult following meets another as McRib crossdresses and hits up a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show…
- The horror! Ribby’s spilled his Dunkin’ Donuts pumpkin coffee!!
- Too many Snickers!! C’mon McRib, lay off the Halloween candy!
- Finally, no proper Halloween is complete without spookin’ your McDonald’s brethren as the McRib zombie. Behold… THE WALKING BREAD!!!
Have a safe, happy, and sugary Halloween everyone! It’s been a fun month, and a blast to celebrate with all of you. Catch ya in November!
By Andrew Blumetti
Was your Columbus Day party as lame as mine?
Sure, the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria chili dips burned, and the bowl full of 1,492 olives ended up being a colossal waste of money, but your heart was in the right place, wasn’t it?
And how on the face of great, green Planet Earth you were able to get more
suckers guests to give you a second chance only a few weeks later for your Halloween shindig makes you think something’s gotta be in the water supply.
But nonetheless, here’s your chance to make things right. Dim the lights, toss up some icky cobwebs, a few delightfully horrific decorations, a delicious hors d’oeuvres platter of Halloweenies or Zombielamb-chops, and before you know it, folks on both sides of the Mason Dixon line will be waxing poetic about the triumphant haunted hootenanny you threw that fateful evening of October 31st in the year 2013.
Well, not so fast there chief. Without some quality rump shakin’ tunes, they ain’t gonna be fawning like rabid Justin Bieber fans just yet. Those fellas didn’t dress up as rootin’ tootin’ cowboys, and those ladies didn’t starve themselves for two weeks and squeeze themselves into skin-tight slutty cop costumes just to stand there in your living room like lazy lumps on a log.
Well, take it from me, if you don’t want your gussied-up guests to go stormin’ out the front door before the steaming hot Pieday the 13ths hit the table, certainly don’t pick your songs based solely on title or artist name alone. It turns ugly, and it turns ugly fast.
Case in point: My 2012 party soundtrack…
TRACK #1: THE CRANBERRIES- “Zombie”
Listen to it here.
What you expect: A decrepit hand breaks the cold cemetery soil, as dozens of flesh-hungry dead cannibals rise to their rotting feet, black-tongued and blood-filled mouths, groaning the words, “do you have to let lingerrrrrrrr…”
What you get: Not nearly as Walking Dead-ish as the title would suggest, this excellent mid-90’s alt rock staple is a protest song surrounding the violence and unrest in Northern Ireland, inspired by the 1993 IRA bombing in Warrington, Cheshire. Don’t use it at your Halloween party, you’ll look like an insensitive dunce.
TRACK #2: FRANK SINATRA- “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”
Take a listen here.
What you expect: Your mind races and your nerves tremble as the padded walls of the nuthouse close in on you faster and faster. Is your cracking brain playing tricks on you? Maybe, look at your skin crawl after all– it could be festering bugs laying their eggs, it could be a deadly disease rotting you from the inside out, or it could be a mean prank that wisenhimer Dean Martin played on you when you were using the bathroom. The line between madness and reality is blurring faster than ‘Ol Blue Eyes’ vision, eight drinks in, at a hotel bar following a Saturday night show.
What you get: Some feel it’s about the drink, but the popular and direct interpretation of this Sinatra favorite is likely about the all-powerful pull of love and attraction. That overwhelming feeling when you just can’t get that special person out of your mind and heart. Just the same way I feel about Pauly Shore.
TRACK #3: FOREIGNER- “Hot Blooded”I guess you could listen to it here. If you really wanna…
What you expect: Laying in the cold bed in the harshly-lit infirmary, the soundtrack to your horrific stay is riddled with coughing and phlegm-filled hacking from fellow bedridden sickies. Your poor head is throbbing like the Dickens, and your blood is on the verge of boiling right there in your freakin’ veins. Your now pale complexion is drained of all discernible color and each agonizing minute of this agonizing pain feels one step closer to grim death.
What you get: “A fever of wait… 103°”?!? Oh for God’s sake.
True, it’s certainly no walk in the park, but that doesn’t necessarily throw you into the depths of certain doom. It more than likely throws you into a doctor’s office to get some orders to take a few Advil and chug some more liquids. But you have to pay full price for your office visit because the Obamacare website IS DOWN!!!! THE HORROR!!!
TRACK #4: CURTIS MAYFIELD- “Freddie’s Dead”
Get down and check it out here.
What you expect: “One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…”
You can finally sleep sound as your once-terrorized dreams have become much safer. Sadistic, striped-sweatered-sleeping slayer, Freddy Krueger, has finally met his maker, as his blood-covered razor-fingers lie next to his putrid, rotting corpse, never to destroy your nightmares again.
He was also mad Curtis Mayfield misspelled his name in the title, but hey, Freddy’s got some anger issues.
What you get: A song about the death of “Fat Freddie”, a character from 70’s Blaxploitation film, Super Fly (the song appeared on the film’s soundtrack). That’s what eating at Heart Attack Grill every day will do to ya, Freddie.
TRACK #5: RADIOHEAD- “Creep”
You don’t belong here, you should be here, listening to this song.
What you expect: What’s that? Look outside your window. Is someone outside?
There’s a full moon out on an icy-cold Halloween eve. The rustling sounds in the bushes are sending a chill up your spine and making your heart race faster than Miley Cyrus shedding her clothes the second she sees a camera flash. Is a crazy axe murderer outside? Maybe a blood-thirsty werewolf? Terrifying little kids with those orange boxes collecting for UNICEF?!?
What you get: Oh Thom, you silly goose, you’re not creepy. We love you, and your lazy-eye, and your weirdo “bacon sizzling in a frying pan” freakout dancing on stage. False alarm people, false alarm.
Safety tip from Blumes: Wondering if annoying hipsters have been stalking you from your window? Look for the empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans and empty tins of mustache wax littered on the ground.
TRACK #6: CUTTING CREW- “(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight”
Insomniacs rejoice! Pretend you’re watching a late night “Best Love Song Hits” CD commercial here.
What you expect: (The closing minutes of a slasher horror movie)– post serial killer attack, lots coughing up blood, gasping for many last breaths, dramatic music, and a final pleading to make it out alive. Note: The black guy died early on in the film. Way to fall into lazy stereotypes, fictional movie that I just made up.
What you get: Soft rock- heavy on the soft, light on the rock. When you’re 45-minutes into a wait at the eye doctor’s office for your semi-annual checkup, reading a wrinkled, old Entertainment Weekly magazine with Ruben Studdard on the cover, this is the ballad that’s likely being played on the radio. This is the band even Spandau Ballet bullies around while on tour.
TRACK #7: THE FUGEES- “Killing Me Softly”
What you expect: Under soft candlelight and the comforting crackles of a cozy fireplace, a bewitching murderer cranks up the charm, wining and dining his ill-fated victims seconds before the tapered knife is revealed and the cozy-bearskin rug is horrifically painted with splashes of crimson.
What you get: A mid-90’s cover of the Roberta Flack hit that the DJ played at our “Class Night” dinner in senior year of high school. Aside from making me realize that I’m old enough to remember when Pras actually had a career, it’s not really scary.
Blumes note: In searching for a picture of Lauryn Hill, the Google search accidentally brought up, “Lauren, Hills”. This is not Lauryn Hill.
(The remaining tracks apply to any song by these deceptively scary-sounding artists with not-so scary music…)
TRACK #8: ANY SONG BY 10,000 MANIACS
Go ahead, be 10,001 right here.
What you expect: In 1964, a splatter film, Two Thousand Maniacs! was released. A film “gruesomely stained in blood color!” about Yankee tourists humiliated and hacked to bits by murderous rednecks in the Deep South (the film was remade 40 years later by Robert “Freddy Krueger” Englund” as 2001 Maniacs). This band must be FIVE TIMES more insane than that! Scary math!
What you get: Nope. This band should’ve been called, “10,000 White People Who Shop at Banana Republic”, and even then, the math is still very suspect. And I shop there too.
TRACK #9: ANY SONG BY FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS
Don’t drive yourself crazy, relive the 90’s here.
What you expect: Hannibal Lecter with a Fender Strat and the most bizarre tour rider ever (when he requests an “Arnold Palmer”, you can be sure he’s not talking about the beverage).
What you get: Probably the most misleading name on this whole list, these 90’s one-hit-wonders conjure up the image of an opening act for Slayer, constantly headbanging and hair-swirling to legions of fans, with beer in their bellies and their tattooed fists in the air. How many teenagers were forbid from picking up this CD (no doubt in one of these old-fashioned longbox compact disc packages), due to their frightening-sounding name?
TRACK #10: ANY SONG BY THE KILLERS
What you expect: The prison jug band Charles Manson put together.
What you get: Incredibly popular 21st Century Las Vegas-based alternative band who took their moniker from a New Order video, which may be the least-terrifying way to name your band. Take it from me and my new band, Blumes Monday, whose new album will be out in 2016.
TRACK #11: ANY SONG BY MURDER BY DEATH
Take a break from all that candy eatin’ and listen here.
What you expect: Well, basically, the band who’d be opening for Fine Young Cannibals, who are opening for Slayer. Murder and death in one band name? Bloody Halloween metal up yo tuckus!
What you get: This talented Bloomington, Indiana-based indie act, with a highly-deceiving name taken a 1976 Robert Moore whodunit comedy, summons the uncanny sound of folky alt-country, drenched in a whiskey-soaked marriage of Johnny Cash and Nick Cave, all taking place in a haunted 19th-Century saloon.
Actually, maybe this would fit in well, tell me this isn’t the stuff October nightmares are made of…
By Andrew Blumetti
It all starts with an innocent peanut.
Just an ordinary peanut growing in the sun-drenched fields, not much unlike any of the other millions of potential allergy-ruiners that reside on the fertile farmland soil.
It never hurt anyone, never caused a problem, never made a scene, but hey brotha, sometimes, fate just deals you a crap hand, and the next thing you know, you’re being picked up faster than a tequila-filled college sophomore on spring break by a guy in a non-ironic John Deere cap.
From there, it’s just a quick slide straight down crap mountain as that simple peanut who was just kicking back on the soil soon endures the fate of an unfortunate Jigsaw victim in Saw IV, V or VI, being roasted, toasted, and grinded into a deliciously gooey paste.
Let’s get to seasoning– toss in some salt, a dash of sweetener, jar it, pop a lid on that sucker and this once fresh peanut, full of potential and possibility, is now part of something bigger and something even more tasty: your favorite two words, and mine– peanut butter.
…but with that title comes infinite possibilities or infinite doom:
Meanwhile, somewhere sweeter…
In a secret lab which just has to be run by old ladies in supportive knee-high hose, sugarcane or sugar beets are getting a once-over of their own, refined and turned into sweet, sticky, syrupy mess, more popularly known as molasses.
You know the stuff. It’s got the pitch-black color of the heart of a teacher who gives you homework over Christmas break, it’s sweeter than the last three minutes of an episode of Full House, and moves about as fast as a tired sloth full of NyQuil.
Not an item that typically ends up at the top of your shopping list, molasses is oddly enough, the unheralded star of some of your favorite eats. Without it, certain barbecue sauces, desserts, beers, and rum just wouldn’t have the same taste. Heck, in a pinch, molasses can even help remove the rust from the hood of your old ’93 Pontiac your weird uncle sold you.
…and about a century ago, this marriage is where things went horribly, horribly wrong.
Just two years after the disastrous sinking of the Titanic, the world was met with another horror, this time one of the candy kind. In 1914, The Charles N. Miller Company decided to Frankenstein us all, adding peanut butter and molasses together. And much like the destructive giant green monster, sparks flew, wires had gone berserk, everything went awry and this abominable creation was bestowed upon us:
Ladies and gentlemen, the Mary freakin’ Jane.
Later owned by Stark Candy Company and currently by classic confectionery outfit, Necco, this taffy sugar candy has lasted over 100 years. And with that legacy, comes a timelessness, as that maize and red wrapper signals a generationally-beloved goodie to dispense to adorable, grimey-fingered trick-or-treaters who crowd your doorstep come Halloweentime like packs of salivating wolves waiting to pounce on a raw porterhouse.
OF COURSE THEY’RE NOT, THEY STINK.
Simply put, Mary Janes are the scourge of the Halloween candy world.
If you’ve ever spent weeks picking out that perfect costume and hoofing your tired little feet all over the crunchy leaves of the neighborhood, the sweetest reward is coming back home to dump out your obnoxiously huge bag of hard-earned cavity-makers all over the rug to sort them out like some sort of supreme candy god.
Making piles and separating the goods from the not-so goods, here’s a few of the biggest offenders that will soon find a permanent home in your trashcan or chucked at your sister’s head:
- Good & Plenty: The dreadful licorice candy you can fortunately sell to deadheads as pills.
- Non-descript Black and Orange Wrapped Candies: I’d start gnawing on drywall for survival before I resorted to these.
- Bit-O-Honey: The candy that makes bees enjoy stinging us.
…and in that ill-fated batch of not-so-dandy candy, sits that same lone peanut we started with– mashed, smashed, and forever bound to molasses, with a one-way ticket to the Island of Misfit Candies.
Wow, that’s pretty harsh, right? That paints a cold, cold picture. Maybe even I’ve changed my own mind.
So, this October 31st, when you look in your plastic Halloween pumpkin and are sourly disappointed to see you walked up those steep stairs to a old lady’s mothball-ridden doorstep for a half-squashed Mary Jane instead of a colorful pack of delightful M&M’s, maybe it’s time to do some corn-syruped soul searching…
Perhaps there’s someone out there who will love the sweet journey of that poor peanut. Perhaps there’s a generation who hears “Mary Jane” and instantly doesn’t associate it with potheads sitting in a drum circle. Perhaps this is just a textbook case candy ageism, and we should respect our sugared elders, giving them a second chance. And perhaps come November 1st, an open mind will reward us with our new favorite treat.
And if that’s the case, please send me your address so I can mail all of mine to you, cause those things are gross.
HAPPY SNACKING EVERYONE!
Illustrated by Andrew Blumetti
… What happens when your favorite film ghouls break the bank at Party City?
… How many fun-size Snickers bars can Ghostface fit into his mouth at one time?
… Just HOW many costumes did Jason actually buy this year?
The answers to those questions …AND MORE* will be answered right now in the thrilling* conclusion of what happens when treats and tricks meet your favorite flicks.
* (Probably not too likely…)
* (Again, fat chance that’s true…)
ALIEN QUEEN (Alien) as MILEY CYRUS
THE INFECTED (28 Days Later) as CRAYOLA CRAYONS
GHOSTFACE (Scream) as SURPRISED TAYLOR SWIFT WINNING AN AWARD
THE GOVERNOR (The Walking Dead) as A CANDY CRUSH SAGA BOARD
TARMAN ZOMBIE (The Return of the Living Dead) as KURT COBAIN
KAYAKO SAEKI (The Grudge) as A DALLAS COWBOYS CHEERLEADER
DRACULA (Bram Stoker’s Dracula) as PIZZA
EVIL ED (Fright Night) as AL FROM HOME IMPROVEMENT
OOGIE BOOGIE (The Nightmare Before Christmas) as WOODY FROM TOY STORY
FREDDY KRUEGER (A Nightmare on Elm Street) and JASON VOORHEES (Friday the 13th) as WAYNE AND GARTH
Illustrated by Andrew Blumetti