Wednesday, October 12, 2005
How Rock is Halloween? Very.
There are a lot of people out there who think that Christmas is a better festival than Halloween. How wrong they are. As if dressing up like the lesbian Powerpuff Girl and pinching men in the testicles somehow constitutes a waste of time.
But I say to these unbelievers, look closer and reflect on the good work that this Hollow Eve performs. Walk the streets of Dublin and its suburbs. Where are the rubber tyres, blood-stained baseball bats, old cars and tramps that usually clog our noble streets? Why, helpful street urchins have dragged them all back to their estates.
The bonfire is as much a part of the autumn cycle as falling leaves and old people freezing to death in rest homes. Think of the gleam of childish wonder in their eyes as they set fire to the 17 foot inferno they have so diligently constructed. Marvel at the simple innocence of the scene as cans of petrol arc through the air, before bursting apart in a disarming twinkle of blinding shrapnel. Hooded elves go from house to house, stuffing gifts through letterboxes, sometimes literally showering the houses of the elderly in an orgy of mirth and celebration.
These big-hearted lugs often involve household pets in the festivities, and there can hardly be a more cheering seasonal scent than a hearty lungful of scorched cat anus. Watch the little darlings dance a jig on the roof of your car as you huddle in the corner of your bedroom, wondering why ringing 999 only gets you a deafening blast of incredulous laughter.
Yes, this is the true season for being jolly.
But I say to these unbelievers, look closer and reflect on the good work that this Hollow Eve performs. Walk the streets of Dublin and its suburbs. Where are the rubber tyres, blood-stained baseball bats, old cars and tramps that usually clog our noble streets? Why, helpful street urchins have dragged them all back to their estates.
The bonfire is as much a part of the autumn cycle as falling leaves and old people freezing to death in rest homes. Think of the gleam of childish wonder in their eyes as they set fire to the 17 foot inferno they have so diligently constructed. Marvel at the simple innocence of the scene as cans of petrol arc through the air, before bursting apart in a disarming twinkle of blinding shrapnel. Hooded elves go from house to house, stuffing gifts through letterboxes, sometimes literally showering the houses of the elderly in an orgy of mirth and celebration.
These big-hearted lugs often involve household pets in the festivities, and there can hardly be a more cheering seasonal scent than a hearty lungful of scorched cat anus. Watch the little darlings dance a jig on the roof of your car as you huddle in the corner of your bedroom, wondering why ringing 999 only gets you a deafening blast of incredulous laughter.
Yes, this is the true season for being jolly.
# posted by Name @ 5:03 p.m. 
