You Know it's October When:

...your candy is pooped out of wind-up skeleton toys.

Gah, I can't believe it's already October.  To say I'm a little un-prepared is taking it lightly.  Not a ghostly, window clinger has been bought, not a can of candy corn flavored soda has been guzzled.  My crowning, Halloween achievement, so far, has been hastily walking through a Spirit, completely underwhelmed and slightly defiled.  Spirit has always been "hit or miss," though.  On one hand, I like the idea of a shop opening up around Halloween, catering to the trick-or-treaters and party goers during the blooming, holiday season.  On the other hand, I really fucking don't care about their truckload of dead baby props and ugly, "evil clown" masks.  Don't misread me, folks, I do like those things...when they're sparse and rare and not shoved in my face every October.  At this point, it seems so stock and manufactured, which, granted, is a really weird and harrowing thing to say about dead, rubber babies.

For me, clowns aren't that scary.  They can be, and most definitely have a good chance of scaring the tar out of a lot of people, but overall...I dunno.  Most of the masks at Spirit are too overdone with big eyes and teeth and tongues that stick out like snakes, never relying on the "creepy and weird" aspect of clowns.  It's the "Gacy" effect, if you will.  Which is a pound of white makeup and lipstick haphazardly smooshed onto your face.  Now that's fucking terrifying.

I blame Juggalos.  They ruined clowns.  And that's on record.

Now, dead babies?  They're just so done.  What else can I say?  You see one dead baby, you've seen 'em all.  Or something.

Every year, I really do wanna write about the Spirit Halloween Store.  I get so pumped thinking about it, but as soon as I set foot inside that makeshift, loosely put together circus-warehouse, I get the opposite of pumped.  I'm de-pumped.  I hate the word "pump."  I realized that just right now.

Alright, it's not so bad.  I only say this because I don't want to be THAT GUY.  I don't want to be a Grinch. I also don't want them reading that and putting me down as the "Worst Halloween Fan Ever" list.  Because I am a fan.  A BIG fan.  And it's supremely cool that they exist, and that they're giving it their best shot at making you buy fake blood and lawn attractions that jump out and spit on you.  I applaud you, Spirit Halloween Store.  See how quickly I flip-flopped?  I couldn't write a bad review to save my life.

Topic of the Day:

Presenting, from the catalog of Treat Street candies and delights, we welcome to you...

MONSTER POOPER.

I can't believe it boldly proclaims, "I Poop Candy!"  But I guess I can't be too shocked, since it is a "Monster Pooper."  Does the tag line, "Wind me up and watch me go!" serve as a shit reference, too?  What have we become as a society?

Load the little guy up with sugar balls, turn the key and let him loose.  It truly is a modern marvel in candy dispensing, if you wanted to get that deep and reach that far.  But what if this was applied to other foods and drink?  If anything, what about other holidays?  What if your turkey two-stepped across the dinner table and crapped out stuffing during Thanksgiving?  Would you like that?  Yeah, you would.  We all would.

The back tells me that the dispenser was made in China, and that the candy was made in Canada.  I don't like it when my candy lives more of a jet-setting life than I do.  Monster Pooper, you can take your damn candy and shove it up your oh you'll just dump it out later.

Happy October 4th!