More Creative Ways to Prevent Halloween Vandalism

Whoa. Never in the history of the Goo have I received as much traffic as I did last night. The peoples are all up in arms over Halloween. Oh, and fat kids.More on fat kids later; today let's just stick to Halloween.

You know who else is all up in arms about this Halloween thing? Really, really up in arms? The English.

"Like many other forces, the Cheshire police in northwestern Britain have been distributing no-trick-or-treating posters for people to affix to their windows. Fifty-eight percent of homeowners in a recent survey by the Norwich Union insurance company said they had hidden in the back of their houses and turned off all the lights on Halloween, pretending that no one was home.

A similar question came up last weekend, in a Halloween discussion group on Mumsnet, a popular mothers' Web site here. The tips being traded were not about how to make pumpkin soup, but about how to repel would-be trick-or-treaters. 'I've thought about removing the cover from my doorbell so they electrocute themselves," one participant wrote.'"

Well, for all you people freaking out there about the kids and the Halloween candy, The State provides a pretty good solution: more materialism and straight up bribery. "Parents can purchase a bag of fun non-candy goodies and make a game of swapping sweets for non-edible treats. Or leave the candy out for the Great Pumpkin on Halloween night who will deliver a toy or game in exchange for the candy." That all sounds well and good until the kids see the mangled squirrel-masticated pumpkin on November 1st and start to wonder about the fate of the Great Pumpkin.

If the parents out there are really upset about all the commercialism and candy making their kids fat, they can always go to Hell House, an evangelical Christian "Haunted" house depicting "...a grotesque and shocking imagining of contemporary secular culture, an extreme version of the way some very conservative Christians may think the unsaved live. Reading "Harry Potter" turns a young boy into a school shooter. Going to a rave gets a young woman gang-raped. In its most graphic scene, "Hell House" depicts an abortion. Blood covers the walls, the woman screams in pain while her doctor smokes a cigarette. Tiny body parts are everywhere." Because when benevelont parental authoritarianism doesn't work, demonic visions of hell will teach the li'l rugrats not to binge on their candy!

I relate the most to this article from the San Francisco Gate. Last year was my first year in my DC apartment. I bought heaps of candy while my roommate stood by with a little smirk on her face. Come Halloween, I told kitty to put on his most adorable face and we stood by the door, waiting for Trick-or-Treaters. An hour later, the doorbell rang, and two dudes with the best homeless-guy costumes I've ever seen asked for candy, and maybe some soup or twenty bucks. Kitty was unamused. I think he was hoping for some Harry Potter costumes. See you in hell, kitty!

Why Don't You Just Give Them Eggs?

A headline popped up in my little google "we are watching everything you do and to distract you from the frightening implications of that, check out this article" window above my e-mail:

Ten Fun Alternatives To Halloween Candy

Seriously? You know what happens to people who skimp on the goods in my Columbia Heights neighborhood? Those people have guns. And can you blame them? These are people's childhoods you're messing with, About.com. If this list were a little more grounded in reality, it would read like this:

Ten Fun Things to Give Out to Inspire Creative Vandalism Your Neighborhood

1. Spider rings- will be a lovely detail on the bag of poop that will be flaming on your doorstep tomorrow
   
2. Vampire teeth- will be superglued onto Fido's teeth
   
3. Way cool Halloween stickers- will look way cool speckled on your windsheild
   
4. Party favor sunglasses- will be used in next year's Halloween Costume, "Stingy Next-Door Neighbor"
   
5. Small cans of playdoh- will be used to create small, brightly colored effigy of you
   
6. Noisemakers- will inspire a three a.m. kazoo band jam session outside your window
   
7. Pencils with Halloween erasers- will be obselete tomorrow
   
8. Halloween bouncy balls- will be whipped at your child until he is bruised and broken into admitting that his parents are the biggest douchebags in the tri-county area
   
9. Temporary tattoos- will be be applied to your front door in a less-than-temporary fashion
   
10. Small bottles of bubbles- will be doused over the toilet paper that will adorn your trees i the morning, making it that much more difficult to clean
    

So the lesson? Get out now and buy your Halloween candy- it will save the value of your home. Bonus points if you form a neighborhood association so that you don't have the same your neighbors are giving out.

The Goo Report

Yes, it's tragic, but can you just imagine the Monday morning phone call into work? "Ummm, I'm not coming in today. Yeah, beer keg shrapnel. Killer party, seriously. No, seriously killer party."

Fight, fight, fight! Who can blame the principals for wanting to get in on the action; if I recall high school properly, the fight is the most exciting hallway activity in the hallowed halls of academe.


Look at it this way; Sexsomniacs">it's better than having him fall asleep on top afterwards...

Vampivirish fashion!!!!.

Too bad the sex offenders can't have said vampivirish fashion.

Green weapons: because in the apocalypse you'll want, um, fewer radioactive emissions?

You don't hear anyone bitching about activist judiciary when it comes to circumcision...

I feel like every week in the Goo Report we have a new and better story from Aus. This week is no exception.

More babies in vending machines: Why does this always seem to happen in the midwest?

The Question Is: What Are the Monks Doing to Train?

The Sacramento Bee wants you to empathize with the kids at fat camp. Don't be fooled by the ruse for sympathy; these kids are just training to beat the monks again at the 502 Camp Wannahabe Olympicad. Hard hitting journalism, Sacbee!

Does Anyone Else Find It Suspiscious That WWF Has A PANDA For A Mascot?

I would love to get audio that makes the breaking-news morse code sound for important news stories.

Boopboopbuhduhboopboop

Guess what? The United States is NOT the problem when it comes to global warming. It's those Aussie fuckers!
"AUSTRALIA DEVOURS RESOURCES!!!!!!!!!"

"Australia and the United States have refused to ratify the Kyoto Protocol...But that refusal meant Australia used more energy, food, timber and land per person than any of its regional neighbors, including New Zealand, Malaysia, South Korea and Thailand, WWF's Living Planet Report 2006 said."

I like my stories to come with maps. Here is one of Australia and its neighbors:

God, how can those insensitive asshole in Aus consume more than, say Kiribati? Or Vanuatu? It's just poor form.

It's not just pollution, either. Aus definitely emits way more than its fair share of cuteness:

Fat Sleepy Koalas:

Fuzzy Curious Joeys:

Mutant Swimmer Boys Who Pleasingly Look Not Unlike The Object of My Affection:

Hot Bikini Babes Being Massaged By, Um, Australian Moose:


That's pretty damning evidence. I'm with WWF on this one. Australia, j'accuse!

KARIN!

Wooohooo!

By MY count, 28 or so years ago on this fine day, one Karin was born. (By most people's count it was 31 years ago).

Can we all just agree she's damn cute?

APHIDS! APHIDS!

Fuck the war in Iraq, we've got bigger problems here.

Aphid eaters.

As the Post reports, no one is safe from this menace and/or its devastating effects. "One ladybug stained a new pink blouse, and another left its yellow mark on a lampshade, LeMarr's wife, Susan, said." That's right, not just any blouse, a new blouse. That was pink.

"How the bugs got here is unclear, but the best guess, Day said, is that they hitched a ride on cargo ships or escaped from U.S. Department of Agriculture experimental fields, a charge the agency denies."

I already have visions of what these so-called "experimental fields" look like. I'm dying to go see them...

How Will I Be Able to Judge Myself?

The following is my life rating. They didn't tell me what scale 6.8 is out of. I wish I knew.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.8
Mind:	6.3
Body:	7.8
Spirit:	7
Friends/Family:	4.7
Love:	6
Finance:	6.3
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

The Goo Report

This kid is TOTALLY going to be grounded.

Well, someone's got to put the war in terms the goth kids can understand, thereby garnering their votes. Genius, that Santorum. GEENEEUS.

OK, for all you peoples out there who bitched about the inappropriateness of the Dingo Snax baby moniker, I give you Baby Turkey.

Has anyone else noticed that the quality of the Goo has gone downhill markedly since Google bought YouTube? Phew, that's a relief.

"The Pennsylvania Game Commission asks anyone who has seen a deer with a pumpkin head to call 1-814-643-1831."

During a brief period in the 80's, killing someone over gum was totally acceptable. Then the times changed. That's why you don't see Tidal Wave gum anymore.

I don't understand why authorities are warning people. Shouldn't someone get an APB out to the animals?

See, while PETA protests the contest (which we reported on a few weeks ago, and I'm too lazy to look up the link. Oh fine; it was this story), what they don't realize is that without half-masticated funnel cakes and roller coaster induced vomit, these cockroaches would have no quality of life at all.

Headline of the week year: "Trail of beer, clothes leads to beer truck bandit"

Is There Anything the Interweb Can't Do For Us?

Family Circus.

Nietzsche.

Genius.

Hat tip to Chris Chan.

Also, this.

FYI, I realize the Goo has been paltry in the past few weeks. Stupid "working" at work. Soon, though. Soon.

You Don't Even Want To Know What the Little Mermaid Was Doing

Mwhaaaaah. The French. Who like their cartoons debauched, according to Reuters: "The video shows Minnie Mouse struggling to free herself as she is grabbed from behind by Goofy and then a giant snowman."

The video in question.

As the Object so tactfully pointed out, it's a sad commentary on the current state of journalism when Reuters can't be bothered to get to the bottom of whether it was Chip or Dale involved. Would they report on an orgy with Mary Kate or Ashley? They'd investigate that! It's not like the chipmunks are hard to tell apart- Dale has the red nose and the bigger dick. So does Ashley, for that matter.

The Goo Report

Poor kitty. It's hard to be a black cat on Friday the 13th. He's walking around with his tail all puffed up, looking out for women trying to sell him on ebay. Why include only human remains in your policy? Does this mean I could buy a mummified cat?

Apparently, I should be in the papers, as seeing big, black cats is now newsworthy.

Home sweet home!

And you thought Tim Gunn was tough.

After having faced the disappointment of dead leeches at the Museum of Medical Health, I don't want to be let down again. But this does look most promising.

Fruitcakes=terroriem? I see the link.

Climbing The Ladder...

I've been asking for more responsibility at work.

The Executive Director gave me her plant and asked me to keep it alive.

YESSSSSSSS!!!!!

Five Proofs, Three Farsided Grooves, One War

The Aussies have put St. Thomas Aquinas to shame. It's nice to see how much logic has advanced over the centuries- that's what we like to call progress.



"If there's no atheists in foxholes, then why aren't there more people at Mass every Sunday?"

The Goo Report

See, there are peeps out there as neurotically pedantic as I. This is the best vindication ever.

So what happened to the kid when Cheney's goons arrested Daddy? Can trauma to the kid be involved in the lawsuit? Also, wouldn't that be the best excuse for not practicing the piano? I would have used it.

Wait, so cheerleader rock is not preparing youth for the future? Pipettes and Go! Team, you have let me down. Or else Joel Stein is a tool.

Speaking of tools- sorry to speak ill of the dead, but really, peoples. Have a little more taste.

I'm so happy muffin top is finally being recognized as legit.

Full disclosure: The only reason I really care about global warming is cuz of the polar bears. And I only care about the polar bears because my childhood stuffy, Joe Bear, is a polar bear. Once upon a time, he looked like this: Considering the years of abuse he went through at the behest of my brothers (true story- once they ripped a hole underneath his tail so that he would be anatomically correct. I was the only kid in school whose teddy had an asshole), saving the earth is the least I can do for his peoples.

Babies. Toupees. 'Nough said.

Molly Ivin's Dildo Diaries. Hee! The anus is not defined as a sexual orifice, so butt plugs are totally ok, which means whatever gay dudes are doing is not sex, therefore, not a crime, and therefore not a problem. Unless Texas is now enacting a no gay not-sex law. This reminds me of the time my Dad was arrested falsely for murder (There are a lot of Dennis R. Kelleys in the Chicago metropolitan area). In any case, he was obvs not a murderer, and had the arrest record expunged. He was then going to sue to get the $ and court costs back (apparently, it's kinda pricey to be arrested for murder), but he couldn't sue because there was no record of the arrest. So, just like you can't sue for an arrest that never legally happened, you can't have sex in an orifice that isn't sexual. Ewwwwww, I just put an anecdote about my Dad in the same paragraph as butt not-sex. That sound you just heard was my Dad rolling over in his grave.

Moving on. A few weeks ago, we reported that breast implants will make you want to kill yourself. But they'll also save your life so that you can be in charge of your own destiny, from how you look to when you die. Woohoo!

Melvin Gibstein: classy, classy guy.

I Found This Out Because I Was Googling A Junior High Classmate Whose Family Is Part of the Mob

I just learned that my Dad is buried right near Harry Caray.

Cool!

Except that by all accounts, my Dad was a White Sox fan.

Lame.

I wonder if Harry Caray has a Cubs-themed casket?

Ooooh, Look at This Very Well-Edited Article!

Fantastic article in today's Examiner about the lame duck baseball legacy Tony Williams is setting himself up to leave behind.

Snakes In A Bed-Worse Than Snakes On A Plane

Last night, the Object and I returned to my place after seeing both the Regina Spektor and French Kicks Concerts. It was 12 or so, and after 6 straight hours of music, we were too bone-tired to actually walk aaaaaaaaaaalllll the way back to my bed. We flopped down on the couch, and the Object lazily flipped through channels. When he finally settled on a show about wedding planning, I took that as my cue to go to sleep.

I woke up around 2 a.m. to find my bed Object-less. I trudged aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllll the way back to my living room to find the Object snoring lightly, smiling in his sleep as he so often does.

Hugging my roomate's fat Egyptian Mao like a teddy bear.

He woke with a start, guiltily shoving the cat away (the Object professes to hate cats). "Bitch set me up!" We've heard that one before.

Under my covers, while the Object drifted seamlessly back to sleep, I was wide awake.

I tossed.

I turned.

I pondered the worse of two evils- acne or mosquitoes.

I checked to see if the toilet was flushed, the faucets were off, the doors and windows were locked, and that the books on the shelves were alphabetized according to their respective categories. Twelve times.

The last thing I saw before I settled into an uneasy sleep was the clock winking 3:30. Sometime later, as I dreamt of getting my head shaved into a mohawk/mullet while being interned in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp, the Object shook me awake.

"Wake up. You've gotta wake up right now. We have to get out of here."

"Are you having one of your sleep hallucinations?" This was not the first time I'd been awoken in such a manner; the Object has introduced me on many occasions to the man who lives in the closet, giving orders after people have gone to sleep.

The Object stripped the blankets off of me, shooed me out of bed, and patted down the mattress. "No I'm totally awake. We have to get out of here now."

I was becoming terrified. "Oh my god, have they dropped the bomb? Oh my god, it's my hair, isn't it?! I have a mul-hawk!" Sometimes, in that inchoate area between sleep and consciousness, I don't necessarily realize I'm in one state and not the other. I certainly don't have the wherewithall to realize that the Object is just as retarded about it as I am.

"No!" The Object braced my shoulders and looked at me gravely "Angel,there are poisonous snakes in your bed."

"This had better not be your idea of a funny euphemism," I replied. Prison camp may be the least sexy place on earth- not where I want to hear about the Object's snake in my bed.

"This is serious! Get out of here- I'll stay and kill the snakes. Go now!" Who says chivalry is dead?

As I was preparing my flight, a thought stuck me- "Save the scraps of my hair; we can sell them and buy our way out of the camp."

This went on for some time- I'm pretty sure it ended only when kitty came in, bitch-slapped us both and told us to shut the hell up.

I am fairly certain this is why relationships go south- the lack of sleep. The Snakes-in-a-bed-in-prison-camp is only the latest episode in a series of dramas mid-somnolence. As our sleep deficit grows, our waking grumpiness grows at an exponential rate. Just earlier that day, a bitter argument about whether the Go! Team overlaps the Pipettes musically² brought us both to the brink of tears, prompting the Object to wonder, "Are we going to become one of those couples that fights all the time?"

I'm sleeping alone tonight.

But I'm a little worried kitty won't be able to fend off the snakes without help.






2 THEY DO.

Gay? A Catholic Priest? C'mon, Put Some Effort Into It.

Busy day for Mark Foley.

So we all know he tried really hard to be a child molester, right?

Moving on. In TOTALLY, completely unrelated news:

Mark Foley is an alcoholic. Well, a closet drinker. Translation? "When a spokesperson says 'closet drinker,' he or she means 'occasional social drinker without a problem.'"

Mark Foley was molested by a clergyman.

Mark Foley's Roman Catholic, natch.

Oh, and according to his publicist attorney, David Roth, “Mark Foley wants you to know he is a gay man.”


In tomorrow's news:

Mark Foley secretly was a victim of Hurricane Katrina.

Mark Foley secretly was born in Auschwitz.

Mark Foley secretly invented kittens and puppies.

And if THOSE don't work,

Mark Foley secretly is a Democrat. The Republicans have actually never seen him before in their lives. Seriously.

Like a Bruce Springsteen Hold Steady Song

Remember the glory days of journalism? Like when Bob Woodward actually wrote articles for the Post? In today's Chicago Tribune, Charles Madigan recalls a better time. Sure, there were no Pulitzers- that's Woodward's beat- but the news got published as long as the cigars were still lit and the green visors cast a green pall over the typewriter keys. And the dogs were around to play poker at the end of a long day writing news.

"Not a Pulitzer in the bunch, although Ed did once get a Chamber of Commerce award for writing a lovely profile of a town that was basically a toxic waste dump with some long forgotten Revolutionary War history. He wrote around the toxic part."

Ahhhhhh, nostalgia.

Christmas is Coming (Kinda)

In case anyone wants to know what to get me for Christmas, Julius (the original snaggletooth kitty) and I love Lionel. Especially on our dishes.Meow.

I Think I Saw It on the Street Outside My Office...

From Chris Chan: the newest spinoff from Dick Wolf, with some of the best detective work I've seen in the entire L&O franchise.

And yeah, that chung-chung thing can get annoying.