I hate Halloween. Okay, well, hate is such a strong word – let me rephrase that into a (perhaps) more palatable form: I intensely dislike Halloween. More accurately, I intensely dislike what Halloween has become – the gateway drug of the holiday season.
You know it only gets worse from here, don’t you? Tonight (if you’re not careful) you’ll enter a three month blackout induced by too much candy, oxygen deprivation from too much apple-bobbing, or over-indulging in more adult refreshments as Halloween becomes a more “adult” (in what sense, I wonder?) holiday. Your holiday-induced altered mental state will be sustained by the wine, beer, tryptophan, and football at Thanksgiving. Rum (or brandy, if you prefer) laced egg nog and twinkling lights at Christmas after the shop-till-you-drop marathon will have you twitching and drooling under the kissing ball, blissfully unaware of your surroundings until you awake with a post-New Year’s hangover along about Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in mid-January.
In and of themselves, I really don’t hate these holidays. But I do intensely dislike what we’ve done to them. And to the extent I can, I avoid the most extreme excesses of them. Besides, I really don’t want to wake up in three months and have to wonder where that tattoo came from.
Halloween? Just say no.