Sorry, kid, better luck next mom

Halloween is a night for ghouls, ghosts, assorted beasties, things so horrible they defy description. But who’s the real monster here?

I stopped liking the holiday in my college days when on a particularly cold Halloween night I dressed in fishnet tights and a skimpy flapper’s dress. A bunch of us traipsed through Boston from party to party. The wind whipping off the Charles River made me miserable. The next day I had swollen glands the size of pumpkins. I vowed to skip Halloween from that point forward.

It was cold and windy in Boston in late October? Yeah, I can see how a random, senseless occurrence like that would leave a mark on your psyche.

The next thing I’m going to say will alarm the Perfect-Parenting Brigade. My daughter has never gone trick-or-treating. Why? Because she is not allowed to eat the packaged crap that food manufacturers call candy, also known as food. It seems pointless to collect a pumpkin full of stuff just to dump it.

Well, I’m not sure anybody’s claiming it’s food, except maybe those anthropomorphic M&Ms (is their thing that they want you to eat them, or are the ads built around them trying to steer you toward eating something else? I don’t have TiVo, I just zone out). People like you got Cookie Monster booed off Colbert, what more can you take from us? And plus, trick-or-treating isn’t really about the candy, world’s worst mom, any more than playing Monopoly is about the money.

Okay, look: What’s 95% of the fun of wearing a costume? Making an entrance. Treak-or-treaters get to make an entrance every couple of minutes. And sometimes the adults giving out the candy are dressed up too, and sometimes they’ve got crazy shit rigged up on the porch or in the foyer. That’s fun as hell when you can’t drink. Got a problem with candy? Well, I feel kinda funny giving advice since I don’t have a parenting bone in my body, but just off the top of my head I’d say maybe they could trade it in for a toy or something?

To even contemplate why people can’t hand out healthy snacks is too existential an exercise.

That’s not what “existential” means, and also, uh, maybe because they know what’s good for them, toilet paper being a net negative when considering the overall look of a property’s landscape? (On a related note, how did the myth about razor blades in apples ever get any traction? Who would know? Uh-oh, children, I heard the little sides of coleslaw they’re giving out are poisoned!)

Then she talks about their super-keen alt-Halloween where they go to a pumpkin patch or something. Because Halloween is about family, for Christ’s sake. I’m not sure, exactly, I had to bail on the column and call my mother to thank her for not sucking.

Gay couples should be allowed to adopt.

No, I mean her daughter.

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Categories: Geek SpeakMessylaneous

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Jesus I hate self-absorbed people like that.

I hate people who try to impose their own holier-than-thou lifestyle on complete strangers.  Mothers can enforce healthy eating the other 364 days a year.  For generations kids have been making themselves sick eating Halloween candy.  It’s tradition!

See, stuff like this causes me to dislike the internons.

No really. At least you can laugh at the fReichtards and PUMAzoids. Everything about this boring-ass whiner, from her completely un-original Halloween costume in college to the yapping about apples or baby carrots or oat bran mini-muffins or whatever the fuck for Halloween treats serves as a reminder that this planet is populated by a lot of damn dull people.

Wow. I’d suggest reading the rest of Traster’s posts, because she’s such a killjoy it’s unbelievable. According to one column, her daughter is forbidden to visit the circus, attend birthday parties or participate in organized sports. Traster only begrudgingly allows her to participate in an after-school arts and crafts event, something that she says makes her feel “a cross between anger and disgust.” She clearly has a very specific idea of the kind of person her daughter should be, and the girl’s own feelings and personality be damned.

But that’s not the crazy part. Right in the middle of her new age sub-Erma Bombeck ruminations on the ‘burbs, she drops a pair of columns on her opposition to child support. In this column, she writes about a man who’s accused of stabbing his ex-wife repeatedly and then running her over with his car - and she tries to cast him as a victim! And there are people in the comment thread who agree with her!

People like her make me really miss Bill Hicks.

As a hard-core feminist I hesitate to say this, but jesus, what a nasty cunt. Seriously, Tina, I hope this childhood trauma is front and center in your kids’ minds when they decide on your nursing home, however many decades hence. I’m sure you’ll understand that they chose the one without indoor plumbing and staffed by violent ex-offenders because they want the BEST for you. Really, not because they’re emotionally stunted you-know-whats.

What a horrible, horrible person. Her children will grow up to be carnies.

It’s bad enough to go through life completely lacking any shred of creativity or imagination, but to turn around and strip your own child of fun is just cruel. You can hear her disdain in every sentence she writes. Poor thing! Christmas decorating must send her into convulsions.

Jane Smiley wrote a novella years ago called Good Will, about a family that is trying to raise their child to be as PC, off the consumer grid, and socially aware and conscientious as possible. He ends up tormenting the only black kid in his classroom because he’s figured out the black girl is the only one more “other” than him. So Traster might want to consider that whole “law of unintended consequences” thing.

her completely un-original Halloween costume in college

No, “vampire” is un-original. “Flapper” is Halloweenese for “I want to go as a French maid but lack the courage of my convictions.”

You can hear her disdain in every sentence she writes.

Y’know, I didn’t make a big whoop about her tone because it’s easy to come off the wrong way when you’re going for “curmudgeonly,” but boy, the stuff about her daughter having a hard time settling on a costume left a seriously bad taste in my mouth. God forbid your kid’s head have gears that turn; so much easier to live with ‘em when they’re dull-eyed lumps.

Hey, so the fact that I can readily see the world through a child’s eyes yet have no interest whatsover in becoming a parent—that’s not as ironic as I think it is, is it?

the fact that I can readily see the world through a child’s eyes yet have no interest whatsover in becoming a parent—that’s not as ironic as I think it is, is it?

Not even slightly! Even if you really enjoy “Scotland the Brave,” that doesn’t mean you have to learn the bagpipe.

Traster displays a Siskindian love of the delete button, believe it or not. I pointed out that packaged crap candy would now hold a compelling luster for her daughter and that it was a mistake making any kind of food so powerful that it would prohibit her daughter from joining in with the other kids in the neighborhood. Well, and a few other points that gil’s touched on. Well, and with reasoning like that, what is she, some kind of NY Post writer or something?

Strange that it didn’t show up.

I know its a work of fiction but the new Johnny Depp version of Willy Wonka should have taught her some sort of lesson.  Her children are going to grow up obsessed by candy and eat themselves to an early grave once they are of age (or go into the candy making business and be really really weird about it).

Traster displays a Siskindian love of the delete button

Oh yeah, as soon as I saw “0 comments” I knew they weren’t letting anything through. Thing is, there must’ve been some supportive ones—it is HuffPost Living, the intersection of priggishness and hippie bullcrap—so at least she realizes that letting only pro sentiments through would make her look like an even bigger asshole than just pulling up the thread.

So at least she’s smarter than Jake Tapper. So’s Koko, but hey.

the new Johnny Depp version of Willy Wonka should have taught her some sort of lesson.

It also should’ve taught Tim Burton some kind of lesson, but if Planet of the Apes didn’t do the job, I guess nothing will.

It also should’ve taught Tim Burton some kind of lesson

A Dahl classicist would have plenty to object to with either movie treatment, I think. I liked Burton’s wintry, hardscrabble Britain, and gil, isn’t Deep Roy’s oompa-loompa work amazing?

Sorry to say, any time that film comes on, I can’t but watch it, for Mr. Roy alone. Oh why fight it, I liked the whole thing, including Depp’s Wonka as Anna Wintour with an Ann Landers accent.

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