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A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The man’s hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the sleepers supporting the metals of the railway supplied a footing for him and his executioners–two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in the position known as “support,” that is to say, vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest–a formal and unnatural position, enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it.

And, for more Halloween fun, read Aunt B’s fake ghost stories. The Dodge City one made me cringe. Spend your Halloween night well and creeped out.

Oh, and always read Cuppa. Because you must.

Oh, and Tim Curry. Always Tim Curry. Listen to his voice. (Wonderful.)

I am somewhat disappointed about Halloween this year. The issue comes down to that SQ has a soccer game tonight in a town 50 miles away.

Don’t these folks know it’s HALLOWEEN!!

Dang.

Last night, a dude from Budweiser, the grad student, the Engineer, Squirrelly and the fabulous Mandy decided to dress me up in Budweiser flair for Halloween. Me, being me, decided it was fine. So I have a Yeungling witches’ hat with the addition of some pink “hair” which is actually ribbon which is also on someone’s cell phone right now. (Note to self: Manage your own story or you might get in trouble.) There is also one of me wearing a Harajuka hat.  Ode to joy, and I mean that.  I assure you that sometimes it is more than okay to be goofy and to have a good time. Why not? We only have one life and sometimes silly is of the much needed.

Because silly is important.

We live in a world with recession beating us down, war, poverty and a lack of stability at times. So what’s wrong with being a bit goofy when it suits us. Doesn’t hurt anyone, and if other folks don’t like it, then so be it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about finding joy lately. I don’t know why. I am in a better place than I’ve been in a long time. I think it has something to do with living life one day at a time, Yada, yada, yada.

Anyway, I’m going to try to salvage Halloween today. My braaaainnss don’t always work, but I’m going to give the ol’ cranium a spin anyway.

Maxim has a whole list of the grossest Halloween candy evah!

No really.

I have no idea where this came from but I am afeared.

Creepy.

H/T Gigglesugar

Mabel would look good in the chef hat. Duff would look good in the pot.

Reasons why Hoots sometimes doesn’t meet my needs, campers.

No dog Halloween costumes.

Halloween is my favorite holiday. When I was a kid, my dad would call me his little pumpkin because I was born in October. Or it could have been that I was shaped like a pumpkin. One never knows.

We were never really a pumpkin carving kind of family. My mom just didn’t like the mess but I enjoy seeing other people relish in getting their carving on.

The youngest niece who we call Bear announced last week that she wanted to be a hooker for Halloween. Homer, who is a great mom, didn’t say anything as Bear was just trying to get a rise out of us. I asked Bear, who is 9-years-old, where she got this idea and did she know what a hooker was.

“Aunt Tick, they wear really high heels and date lots of boys,” she said gleefully.

I don’t think she fully grasped what hookers actually do with the boys but Homer went on a diligent Halloween costume hunt without making a big deal out of it.

Bear will now be a Monster Bride.

So, I’m probably going to avoid the parties on Halloween and stay home alone, watching my beloved horror movies and cuddling with Mabel, Duff and Kirby while trying to get the big dog to avoid eating Trick-or-Treaters.

Tis my way.

How about a Zombie Big Brother. I’m in.

The storyline of this fictional show has the castmembers of a Big Brother show trapped in their home playing to win the cash prize while outside the house/set zombies have taken over the world. Then when each houseguest is eliminated, they exit the safe house and the first thing they encounter is the undead seeking to eat their brains.

How is that for groovy.

From the Guardian:

Brooker has conjured up a very clever satire, mocking the people who take part in these shows and the sort of people who watch them. In one brief scene a zombie, drooling blood and spittle, sits transfixed by the Big Brother live feed. Such are the perils of watching too much telly.

Endemol, which makes Big Brother, also produced Dead Set. Talk about having your cake – or should that be zombie? – and eating it.

It is also very scary. In an era when TV eschews the horror genre, I can’t remember anything quite like it. It makes Ultraviolet – remember that? – look like children’s hour.

Hoping I can find a bootleg somewhere because if you watch the clip at the link, there is a ton of bitching awesome going on here.

Her mother, Stephanie, has additional photos of her on her blog, Life on the Farm.

[youtube=[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_xGir1_QuU&rel=1]

The chick in the orange shirt just damn well abandoned her co-hosts to die.

Hee.