I don't know why I even bother...

You know, for the first eight months of the year, I posted very consistently. But then, curse my miserable fate, I noticed. Now I'm cramming, just to maintain a stupid streak on this stupid blog, because now I feel as if I must. Somebody help me, I'm going insane. Now if you're like me (and I'll bet a round chicken in a dumpling stew that you are) you're probably wondering by now where we're all going with this, and brother I'd be lying to you (that'll be the day!) if I were to say that I'm not very often wondering this selfsame thing, but let's not concern ourselves with such matters at present, goodness knows that worrying never hurt the worrisome, except for all the worrying. What am I talking about? I'm talking about good, cold, hard, American granite, with your name (and if you buy a big enough slab, that of your wife) carved on it for all of your posterity to visit once a year until they grow accustomed to your once-conspicuous absence. How much will it cost? Never you worry about that, think of it as an investment in a future without you in it. Now there, there, don't go running for your dear life until you've heard the best part: If you divide three elephants by fourteen vultures, that comes to just enough pachyderm fillet to make sure that nobody, and I mean nobody comes through that door unless they say the password, which as we all know is the last four stage directions for the Sugar Plum Fairy: "Dance, twirl, then dance some more, then get offstage you're killing Tchaikovsky." Just remember that one man's Jalopy is another man's Lincoln Continental, and one man's Lincoln Continental can very quickly become another man's Lincoln Continental, if the first man happens to leave the keys in it. I think that just about does it for now, I feel a strange urge to eat pumpkin pie, but as I haven't any (there was none in the Lincoln Continental I just stole), I suppose I'll have to make do without, and perhaps its for the best after all.

A Shameful Omission

Somehow, and I swear it wasn't for the purposes of coming up with another post, I left out of my previous list one of the worst things about Halloween (besides prostitute costumes): Halloween-themed songs. Every year around this time I seem to have forgotten last year's barrage of "The Monster Mash," and unsuspectingly turn on my radio, expecting to find one of the normal ten songs that the radio plays these days. At first, it was just as I had suspected. The Fray's "How To Save A Life" was clocking in its ten quadrillionth play on the air, so I was still suspecting nothing when I changed the radio station, only to hear "The Monster Mash" in all its badness, coming through my tortured car speakers. It was too much. I changed to the classic rock station, only to hear some piece of rubbish I've never heard before, but was so bad that it could only find airtime if it were somehow related to this stupid holiday. If my bruised memory serves, I would guess that the song was called "Dracula's Girl," or perhaps "Dracula's Sister," and had been made sometime around 1979. Shiver. I've stuck to NPR and my CD player since then, my fragile nerves can only handle that sort of thing once in a great while. Knowing my luck, Terry Gross will interview whoever the heck wrote "Moster Mash" on Fresh Air, and it'll be all over. They'll find me sitting in a bunker here behind my wall, waiting for the worms to come.

By Request...

A while ago, someone, no doubt trying to get me to shut up about whatever it was I was going on about at the time, suggested that I do a post about Halloween, or as you may know it, er... Halloween. I guess I could also call it "All Hallows Eve," that sounds goode and olde timeye. In any case, as time is short, and I'm in desperate need of two whole posts after this one, and yet before midnight tomorrow (in order to lift some curse or something, I don't know. Work with me here), I'm going to give you, my devoted (and in most cases imaginary) readership a breakdown of the D.Cous.-Approved and Non-D.Cous.-Approved portions of this ridiculous holiday.
On the "Approved" side of the ledger, there's:
1. Candy
2. Costumes
3. Parties
4. Carving pumpkins
I would also mention Pumpkin Pie (note the ever-so-appropriate use of capital letters), except that I haven't had any yet. All of these things are pretty fun, and there isn't much about them that has anything to do with witches, ghouls, etc... I just finished carving up a pumpkin, which I had much fun with, and though I can't speak for the Linds, I think we both enjoyed the costume party we attended.
Now then, we move to the "Not-Approved" side of things... There's really a lot of material here, honestly too much for a post such as this, but the ones that jump out at me are as follows:
1. Lawn decorations. Too easy? Yeah, probably. The lights, the inflatable cartoon characters dressed as monsters, the fake cobwebs on the bushes, the fake tombstones, the witches hanging from trees. Good grief. I actually love it when people go buck-wild with Christmas decorations, but since Halloween isn't really celebrating anything, it seems really lame to go out of your way to decorate your house.
2. Trick-or-Treating. I know what you're thinking. Why do I like costume parties and not trick-or-treating? Because costume parties don't involve invading someone else's privacy. I will admit that I never did trick-or-treat as a child, but I don't think that factors in too much. I don't like strangers coming to the door and asking me for stuff, even if they are dressed like Spider-Man. Costume parties have the added benefit of being somewhat like Masquerades, which as we all know, are cool.
3. Vandalism. A well-played prank against friends is kind of fun, as long as it's done right, whatever. Toilet paper all over a stranger's trees? Not so whatever.
4. Ghosts, witches and stuff.

That about does it for now, will post more soon. Peace.

Before My Laptop Battery Dies

Good gracious and a half, blogosphere, my five-post October is in jeopardy! Crazy. Cecelia recommended that I give the world my thoughts on All Hallows Eve, which I shall attempt to do at some future date (hopefully before the fact), but for now my battery is dying and the World Series is on television, so I'll just leave you with a screenshot that is making my evening funnier:
Addendum: I apologize to the multiple commenters who mistook my screenshot for a pop-up ad. I have my settings in Firefox such that I don't see too many pop-ups any more, and hadn't thought of the possibility of such a mistake. Also, I did of course buy the song.

October

I learned this morning by listening to the radio during my two-minute commute that it's Breast Cancer Awareness Month, of which I was previously unaware. I guess I knew that there was such a month, but I wasn't aware of what month it was, or even if it was the same month every year. In any case, I figure that it's high time that I started doing my part in the valiant fight against the not-quite-leading-cause of death among people with breasts. However, as it seems that lots of people are already out there raising money for research towards finding a cure, there probably aren't enough people out there raising money for future treatment, in case they just don't find a cure. Given that we here at The Republic of D.Cous. are not typically given to a great deal of optimism, it seems like our fund raising efforts would better be spent raising money for future treatment, after we've wasted all of our cancer-fighting dollars on a cure that they probably won't find anyways (I have it on good authority that 1/3 of all cancer research donations go to buying Nintendo Wiis for research scientists and their friends*). So, while the starry-eyed hippies of the world are out there walking for The Cure to our nation's chronic lack of Nintendos, I'll be walking, driving, eating, sleeping, and sitting on my couch watching Jeopardy! for Treatment in the likely event that they don't end up finding The Cure. How does it work? Simple. While I'm doing all these things, probably wearing my as-yet unmade "Save The Breasts" t-shirt and sweat band, you can walk up to me and give me money, which in turn I will (I promise) give to people who are at risk (e.g., women, and certain men). I may even hop onto Cafepress dot com and make up "Save The Breasts" t-shirts for all y'all, and then if you buy them, I'll give the money to the at-risk. I'm not quite sure how that part will work, really. I've never walked up to a stranger, handed them money and said "Hey, save that in case you get breast cancer someday and need money for treatment." Hmm. Talking to strangers. Most difficult. Right.

*This is probably not at all true.