What Halloween Has Become

Halloween, a time we put on cloaks, crazy rubber masks of vampires, werewolves or in Donald Rumsfeld’s case, a Donald Rumsfeld mask because a lizard head isn’t really a good costume…

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This is a celebration of everything ghoulish and creepy; vampires, slutty pussycats (if that was ever a thing) and an extraordinary amount of nurses which weren’t particularly scary until Silent Hill, then again neither were pyramids, but now Toblerone freaks me the fuck out. So thanks to Silent Hill for perpetuating a cycle of 18-year-old girls pouring fake blood all over a perfectly good nurse outfit.

Halloween parties are THE greatest place to get laid for a young person. However, if you hook up with a nurse (I say nurse as 99% of readers are male, so I’ll keep it hetero) and the nurse is a zombie nurse, or maybe a vampire nurse covered in red paint, please wash it off before you get down to the horizontal monster mash. Because at that point you’re kind of weird. Yeah, giving the rod to a woman covered in red paint is weird bro! Unless you’re trying to summon the dark lord Naagash, but even then I’m pretty sure you have to enter up, down, X, O, R2, then drink the spit of a virgin.


The cute side of Halloween.

Halloween is a far cry from kids trick-or-treating until 11pm on the 31st, teenagers beating the shit out of ladies and throwing eggs at the dork’s house. These childhood wonders have been traded in for cancelling trick or treating, like Connecticut moving Halloween?! This is a night of fucked-up things, a night where demons and spirits walk the earth. Whatever happened to covering a kid’s head in a white sheet and letting them run around screaming hopped on various chemicals?

Well this guy ruined that for everyone.

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As a human man, I don’t think the “guy” population really has anything to get psyched about at Halloween. We can go as a Spartan if we have abs that can crack walnuts. The ladies have the fun options — a whore, a dead whore, a horse, a dead horse, it goes on and on. If I was a girl I would go to a party as domestic abuse: cigarette in hand and cigarette in eye, popped lip and gin soaked, just to make the night uneasy.

So after a night of drinking, puking and more drinking, November rolls around. Ladies and Gentlemen of all ages will be making their way home, sniffing their fingers and texting friends, panties in hand and dignity in pieces. Well, we all love a one night stand…

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