Nov 3, 2008

And Where Were You, Great Pumpkin?

I made a promise to myself (one among many I can assure you) that there are three things that would never be openly discussed here again. They are, namely: Politics, Religion and The Great Pumpkin.
And, if history has taught as any valuable lessons (an arguable point to say the very least) it has certainly taught us that these Hot Button issues should be avoided by all but the most masochistic of dialectical enthusiasts. For all of these topics can be discussed ad infinitum without any ground being gained by either side and all participants left with the odd taste of failure in their mouths and the foul scum of defeat smeared across their faces. Each of these things is far too esoteric and subjective to ever find any kind of real, cogent solution through honest and open discussion as to why people hate each other so badly over so much that ultimately means so little.
But now, as the last smoke of Halloween clears behind us, perhaps I can take a brief moment to reflect upon the fact that, once on Halloween, many long years ago, I sat up all night in that pumpkin patch and I didn’t see a damned thing. Which sends a rather chilling bolt through the core of whatever Faith I have left in anything that might be considered “intangible.” And even more so when it comes to the frail and precarious institutions that I enumerated above beside The Great Pumpkin.
After all, our parents teach us from the earliest of ages that monsters; the bogey man, Raw Head, Bloody Bones and the like, Do Not exist. But then they tell us that Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy are all Real and viable entities to whom we owe allegiance and good behavior. And just look what The Record tells about the folly of that nonsense. Not to mention the lost revenue never accrued over the years (from lost presents and rewards) that was the result of petulance and wrong-headedness.
When it comes to Halloween we’re all forced to deal with certain fears that are thought to be irrational in nature because, after all, some things that may seem down right laughable in the clear light of day can become another matter all together when we’re forced to face them under the black, oppressive maw of an October Midnight. And we’ll eventually be asked that ominous question: What scares you the most?
Here, in the kind of unstable times we’re living through; with all of the economic strife and difficulty, the recrimination-filled air that surrounds our most recent presidential election, the capricious nature of the global geopolitical climate not to mention the threats (real or imagined) of climate crises, extreme pandemics, the great Zombie Outbreak, a renewed possibility of global thermonuclear war and the frighteningly real danger of the very nature of America and its Constitution being altered forever…well, there’s plenty to be afraid of and I, for one, am already tensing up and preparing to hunker down in some quiet place with plenty of guns and ammunition to wait this One out until the sun shines out the brighter again. But, in the Final Analysis, what really scares me the most?
One Word: Werewolves.
Yes. There it is. And I’d like it entered into the Permanent Record that I was the First to sound the erstwhile Alarm on this front.
And where was the Great Pumpkin? Because I certainly didn’t get what I wanted for Halloween, despite all of my misguided belief in a world of creepy monsters emerging from the Fog and crossing the moors to lay waste to human reason and logic.
What might it have been? Well…let’s just say that it involved scantily-clad visitors who were all about more treats than tricks (or vice versa, eh?) and who would be only too willing to drag me out to the pumpkin patch for a little Old School, Samhain-type of carnal celebratory nudity and ravings. Or, at the very least, that I might have the opportunity to enjoy some quality naked time with the One person I might actually expect it from. But, no…no such luck. And such is la dolce vita in my neck of the woods and I’m getting nearer every day to finally accepting the futility of even hoping for anything more.
So now…well, I guess I’ll just have to fall back on the Old Standards and set my sights on Christmas and keep my fingers crossed for another hit off the Cosmic Deck and I’ll cling to the half-belief that Old Saint Nick might finally be kinder if I let go of my more prurient interests and ask for something reasonable.
Yes. Something reasonable; like a fully articulated, dynamite-powered, telepathically-navigated, kung-fu, super go-kart with specially mounted, twin Vickers machine guns, time-displacement pack and complete military-style radar/sensor suite. And all of that equipped to the struts and stabilized with Full Combat Chassis.


Cat said...

Dude, I think I saw one of those on Ebay today...I'll see if I can find the link...For Christmas, I'd like new tires.

Anonymous said...

Don't forget Thanksgiving--wishing for nothing new and giving thanks for what we already have

Call me an optimist, but I think it's when we finally stop wishing that our wishes are granted..

C.S. Perry said...

My mother used to say, "You can wish in one hand and shit in the other...and see which one fills up first."
So maybe I should give heed to your advice.

Hey... I said "Heed."

Clay Perry said...

naked pagan women with full grinding hips working the vickers machine guns mowing down werewolves while you take navigation from the great pumpkin via the radar/sensor suite jumping through time with a bottle of mezcal in one hand and a red rider bb gun in the other ... now thats a good christmas eve... and highly probable, it'll all start late the night before while staring at the fluid motion of her thigh muscles as she she sits on the couch with her legs crossed, pissed off because you cant think of anything else, bouncing her foot in angry short bursts... with each word being tossed at you sounding oddly like charlie browns teacher... it always - *always* starts that way...

kel said...

Weird. I want that exact same full-armored chasis for Christmas. So I say if Santa doesn't deliver, we slander the shit out of his name.

kel said...

Oh, and also I'm asking Santa for brown space boots, you know, because gray doesn't go with everything.

C.S. Perry said...

Now THAT'S what I'm talking about.

You get the boots and I'll the go kart and we'll change the world before they even realize we're gone.

All This Trouble... said...

Permanent Record entry no. 166,427:

C.S. has a Mad Max/ Thriller fantasy

L. said...

Somehow, putting a full-on go kart with combat gear and machine guns in the hands of someone who hasn't seen any, ah, carnal activity seems a bit dangerous. Like having an itchy trigger finger. Fortunately, Thanksgiving is right around the corner.

Teri said...

Your brain must run away so fast that I bet it's tough to keep up with it while typing. Your rantings and ravings, your deviant twists on everything - I absolutely love it! Your seemingly effortless way of pouring buckets of information into coherent stories makes me think of how smart and cynical you must be, two qualities that I find astonishingly attractive.

In other words, you're a word nerd and I would SO fuck your brains out if I wasn't married. ;)

C.S. Perry said...

And I would SO let you...if you weren't married.

l.c. said...

nice. well, don't get too excited teri.... he talks bigger than he he bites.

Teri said...

rofl! Well, hopefully I'm not stepping on any jealous-lady toes! (I noticed your sole blogging interest is c.s perry's penis) haha

l.c. said...

Ha! No, you're not hurting anyone's feelings. It's a beautiful thing. I'd f his brains out too... hence my interest. I'm just one in a long line of c.s. perry fans. By all means, please continue!