I'm just not feeling it these days. Several months ago, my muse went out for beer and cigarettes and just never came back. Can't say I blame her. I've always lacked discipline, but now I've got the attention span of a kid whose Ritalin was replaced with candy corn.
On that subject, before I forget, trick or treats is nigh approaching and I just could not care any less. Halloween used to be fun. As a kid eating candy, a teenager drinking beer, or a college student dropping acid, Halloween was a good time. Now my own kids get excited at the thought of the coming candy orgy, but it's just a pain in the ass for me. I've got to watch out for predators and poison and drunk drivers. And we can't even make it scary anymore. All it takes is one good old-fashioned, bowel-eliminating scare and I'm up every night for weeks with nightmare traumatized kids. But the real icing on the cupcake is this year's costumes. I will accompany a five-year-old Hannah Montana and a three-year-old Michael Jackson along the parade route. I'll be the embarrassed father with the flashlight/billy club acting as bodyguard to the stars. Sigh.