Monday, November 02, 2020


Just hazarding a guess here, but if you let your friends undress you and paint you orange, you may have let the pandemic affect your mind. Are you Trump? Are you a pumpkin? A fratboy?
As a celebration of Hallowe'en, it prompts questions in the minds of observers. There was no nudity on Polk Street late Saturday night as far as I could see. I encountered the naked orange man on Sunday morning while heading over to the bus stop for work.
I decided not to ask him how his fruit-hue came about.
Seeing as he looked a little out of it.
Not quite all there.
In the cold of an Autumn morning, the dermis shrivels. It reminds one that one's own body is not happy without sufficient shielding. Like the circulation might shut off or something.
Bright orange is the new blue.

Profound sympathy for the naked person. It is heartbreaking. No, you cannot have my jacket, and please stay the hell away. I do not know where you have been.
How lonely, how utterly sad.


The season for pumkin spice everything is almost past. Alas, there are no "Twelve Days of Hallowe'en", there is no operative chol hamoed, and it isn't two days outside the land. It's just one day. One short sad day, with too much sugar and the inevitable crash that follows.

Pumpkin spice pizza did not catch on. Neither did the seasonal beer with that flavour.

Pumpkin spice: better with sardines.

Remarkably, pumpkin spice pipe tobacco IS a thing. One local store is still trying to sell through the ten pounds of it they acquired eight years ago. Year round. It gets darker, stickier, and more foetid, with each passing season. It is a horribly depressing substance.

It is suitable ONLY for LOTR fans who also drink Starbucks.
I am blessed; I only know a few of such people.
They radiate bad karma.

Old pumpkins, as everybody knows, attract the ghosts of fruitflies.
Pumpkin cookies taste like a local sportsteam.
They constrict the gut.

Naked men should not be fiery orange. Even if they are Dutch soccer fans. Pasty white with splotches is more appropriate. Or verging on mahagony, if they're from Amsterdam.
Off to beat the living Jayzus out of Feijenoord supporters.

The ancient Scots painted their bottoms blue with pumpkin.
It made them stand out better in the heather.
Blue Bottoms Over The Border.
Bog pipes.

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