I did not get to enjoy Halloween — I missed all of it driving. Just as well. I’m not a fan because there should be an age limit.
Too many people violate the age limit I imagine in my mind, which is difficult to gauge, I know, because I’m only sitting here thinking about. Worse still, I see it as a sliding scale.
If you are 15 and over you should get a job for pocket money and buy your own candy.
The first year you think “Nah. I’m just going to wrap this robe around me, call myself a playboy and take a bunch of candy,” you are disqualified from collecting candy.
It is also the unofficial turn of the season, Halloween, and it is over in a night. I like a good holiday that lingers for several days more so than one that commercial enterprise has built up into a months-long marketing ploy.
This, though, is the best and worst Halloween story of all time, from my friend and colleague Napo Monasterio:
Today’s random political pitch was brought to me by a 13-year-old trick-or-treater dressed up in ragged business attire: “Hi, I’m a small business owner who was run over by the bus that is big government bureaucracy. My friend right here (pointing to his ghost pal) didn’t make it. He was one of Romney’s founding business partners, too.”
Nice. (Oh, and he double-dipped in the candy bowl. Of course.)
Speaking of politics, here’s a map charting the progress of political spending, totaling more than $500 million in ad buys, so far. Makes you long for the days of the front porch campaigns, says the guy who lives in the most solidly red state in the union experiencing virtually no advertising blitzes.
This:
… which makes you wonder what her parents are saying within earshot about the election, prompted this:
I have two studies planned that center around the election. Maybe I should dream up an Abby one, too.
