EPIC NIGHTMARE

While I was outside having a final smoke of the day (Gawith Best Brown Flake in a sandblast billiard), three short blonde manga sex bombe slut vampires with gogo boots strolled past, every breast taughtly forward and held in place by tight fabric. Good lord.
In my day only gays did that. Art student gays.

I used to know a lot of them.

Back then, the only straight people who dressed for Halloween were often still in kneepants. Now the kid crowd is wondering what went wrong and why everyone is pissing in their turf.

They still haven't figured out why some manga and anime is in the roped off section.
They think that's altogether mighty unChristian.
They're probably right.

In the olden days, every word of dialogue in the movie was in French, and it was called an art film. Nowadays, squeaky Japanese, and cultural exposure. It helps twenty somethings learn crucial phrases for when they visit Tokyo. Or conventions.


What's truly frightening is that eventually even severely antique people with crutches, blotches, and walkers will strut about like this for Halloween.

In which case I'll have no choice but to smoke indoors.



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