Political correctness is taking its toll on
Halloween. Consider some old Halloween activities, for example:
WITCH BURNING: Just singe one around the edges today and
the ERA types will be on you like stink on shit. What 30 centuries of white male authors used to call witches, are today respected
as complexion-impaired, wardrobe-challenged women.
WINDOW WAXING: These days you'll only set off the light-,
noise-, motion-, and aroma-sensitive burglar alarm, and quickly exit in cuffs and revolving lights, if you're lucky enough
not to leave prime filet of leg with the neighborhood rottweiler.
TRICK-OR-TREATING: This obviously would be prosecuted as
a violation of federal RICO [racketeering] statutes, except that most of the perpetrators are juveniles, and thus have the
civil right to thumb their noses at the law and be back on the street before the candy runs out.
And then there are the treats themselves:
Candy should be dispensed only with balancing doses of Ritalin,
soft-bristle toothbrushes and an effective (but fluoride free) dentifrice.
Apples should be organic, Alar-free, union-packed, washed
in genuine American Zephyrhills water, and X-rayed before being handed out. Any worms should be housed, fed, read their rights,
then returned to their native soil, or, if they so choose, given refugee status in yours.
Certain traditional Halloween games are not politically correct:
That icky old "autopsy" game in which you blindfold little
kids and tell them a plate of spaghetti is guts and a bowl of peeled grapes is eyeballs will cost you your homeowners insurance
because of the choking hazard, and due to the risk of suits for emotional damage.
Pin the tail on the donkey, with a real pin? Uh uh, cruelty
to animals, or their depiction, is a no-no.
Bobbing for apples is permitted, as long as there's an equal
(and not separate) opportunity to Jane for them, too.
Jill-o'-lanterns are encouraged, after 1999 they will be
mandatory.
And, finally, costumes:
Ghosts are out of date. Casper is clearly a dead, white male,
probably European, and full of hot air to boot.
Fairy princess costumes might offend both gays and feminists.
Frankenstein monster costumes will offend transplant recipients,
not to mention employment-producing neck-bolt manufacturers.
Dracula outfits will bring stern warning letters from the
Transylvanian consulate.
Those neat masks with jaws rotted away, eyes bulging on distended
optic stalks and massive, oozing wounds will get you in trouble with lawyers who specialize in representing accident victims
on contingency bases. Which is to say, all of them.
Disney costumes. Sleepy and Dopey will anger the vertically-impaired,
Cinderella the adoption agencies, and Aladdin the Arab-American lobby. Uncle Remus? You might as well wear your robe and pointy
hat. A cow person? Perhaps, but don't pack a gun. And don't even think about punching a cow.
So there you are. The scariest thing about Halloween these
days is that you're not allowed to offend or scare anyone. And if someone scares you, you can't scream. In some communities,
any auditory emissions over 75 decibels is a zoning violation punishable by a fine and/or jail term. Whether you can react
instead with a sullen but non-denominational moment of silence will be considered later this term by the Supreme Court. Until
then, do so at your own risk.