Ejection Day.

Yes, today is Ejection Day, or it would be if we weren't a nation of imbeciles. And I'm not even complaining about your state. Mine, New York, is as packed full of morons as a Babybel is full of cheese. What else can explain our willingness to reelect a corrupt evil-eyed schmuck as our governor who, if his name had been Andrew Amalfi---and not related to his still-popular father---would probably be working a middle-management job, helping ruin some dopey company by scaring off the clients?

Anyway, I'll be happy to see the end of the lawn signs. They're so sad after the election. Even the signs for the winners look sad. And some candidates' signs show that whiff of desperation that's made even worse when the election is over.

The problem with politics is that it is loaded with politicians. Politicians exist to buy votes. That's what they do. That, these days, is all they do. Unless you count using taxpayer money to buy support from corporations, so the corporations can give them money for reelection so they can go back to buying votes with more taxpayer money. Taxpayers who like their politicians should ask themselves if they're spending more through their taxes than they get back in whatever. Obviously everyone in Washington has to get a cut. So it's hard to believe they wouldn't be getting a better deal to keep their money. People who don't pay any taxes, of course, don't care, so it's in the interest of politicians to make as many of these people as possible. Their votes are not only for sale, they're cheap.

Politicians should come with ingredients labels, like food:

Politician Facts

Serving Size: 1 load of bullcrap

Servings per container: Size of constituency

Daily allowance:
Ego 100%
Self-serving jerkishness: 100%
Buttholery: 85%
Ham-fisted attacks on political opponents: 100%
Evasion: 67%
Outright lies: 59%
Unwillingness to serve anyone who didn't vote for him: 100%
Overconfidence: 100%

May contain one or more of the following: Stupidity, thievery, felonious intent, hyperinflated sense of self-worth, sexual misconduct, delusion, inability to admit errors or wrongdoing, a little blackened soul that looks like a charcoal briquette---very in keeping with its ultimate destination. Approach with caution.

--------------------------

We've gotten way too fond of our political class, as if we expect them to actually do anything worthwhile. I guess if we are the sort who expect other people's money to come our way if we stick the right clown in the chair, then we may not be disappointed. But that's not what a free and independent people are supposed to be about. That's for people with dead consciences who can bear up under the burden of shame.

Look, if you're a reader of this blog, you don't need me to tell you how to vote. You're obviously well-informed, smart, insightful, and wise. (If you read my books you're also good-looking and taller.) I'll just remind you TO vote, and trust you will do the right thing.

Railway carriages.

Last week in rush hour I got on a subway car that was horribly crowded. I barely got on. We could have used the help of those Tokyo oshiya guys.

There were not too many smiling faces among those of who saw a woman on the car with a baby in an absolutely enormous carriage.

And I mean enormous. This thing looked like an Escalade. Not sure of the brand of the baby-toting device, but to give you an idea of the size:

Very similar.

I believe the carriage had fewer airbags and cup holders, however.

Probably no one without a baby could sympathize more than do I for the mom traveling with the kid. Nobody does this for fun. Sometimes you just have to go someplace, even if it means traveling at rush hour, and you can't just leave the kid at home with a bowl of water and some wee wee pads. But it's only in the last couple of years I've seen people bringing the kids in these humongous transporters on the train. You used to see kids only being shoved along in umbrella strollers, like this one:

They're called umbrella strollers because they fold up, not because they're as poorly made and likely to fall apart like those cheesy $5 street umbrellas that pop up for sale on rainy days. Although these strollers often do fall apart just that way, I hear.

The thing is, a kid in an umbrella stroller takes up no more deck space on the subway than would an average man. That's why they are, or were, the stroller of choice way back.

This may all be connected to the fact that many of us seem to be more and more inclined to bring tons of crap with us whenever we leave the house. Snacks, gym clothes, iPad, book, phone, floss, cosmetics, ever-present bottle of water... The woman may have packed along enough food for three days for all I know. Maybe she was running away to Mom's and taking the kid. But expensive as taxicabs are, sometimes you have to spring for one.

Then again, that stroller may not have fit in a cab.

I blame the Americans with Disabilities Act. In past years you wouldn't have even considered bringing a Buick-like carriage down to the subway because you wouldn't have been able to get the damn thing up and down the stairs. But now escalators and elevators are available at most stations in compliance with the ADA, and eventually will be in all stations. That's great for the wheelchairs, but now people bring huge carriages and shopping carts, and---not kidding here---cheapass companies send delivery boys out with hand trucks stacked with reams of paper, file carts stuffed with documents, even utility carts loaded with food for catering.

Hey, the subway is a people mover, not a people plus all kinds of crap mover. Get a truck.

Thanksgiving lights.

Yesterday I took down the Halloween lights and put up the Thanksgiving lights.

Okay, I don't really have Thanksgiving lights. Maybe you do. I've never seen them for sale. I kind of wish I had. I would probably buy some.

Thanksgiving gets short shrift, we all know, smushed in the middle of HalloThankChristmukkahNewYear. It's almost been reduced to a turkey and lining up for Black Friday. But I love Thanksgiving, as I know many others do. It is an adult's holidays. It is a day for gratitude. How many other holidays are just all about gratitude?

So it should be celebrated, and it should be celebrated as heartily as Halloween at least, if not Christmas.

Big problem: Thanksgiving is brown.

Christmas is green and red. Halloween is orange and black. St. Patrick's Day is green. First day of school is red and black (schools and blackboards). New Year's is white, black, and silver. Easter is anything, as long as it's pastel. I suppose it's only a matter of time before porch lights are available for all these holidays and more. But Thanksgiving is restricted to the colors of late fall, and by the end of November there are virtually no colors left. The leaves have fallen, been raked up, mulched, gone. Bare trees remain, and pine cones. Thanksgiving is brown. Who does brown lights?

Festive.

Well, there are a lot of Thanksgiving inflatables for the yard, usually turkeys dressed as Pilgrims. Amazon has a lot of this kind of thing---no strings of brown lights that I saw, but lighted garland that looks like autumn leaves. And I strongly support that kind of thing. Thanksgiving needs to get out from under the shadow of its larger brethren in October and December. Good decoration can help.

This, however, also from Amazon, is not good decoration:

Toilet turkey. Never mind its tackiness: If you ever had a Thanksgiving weekend where the turkey was toxic and everyone got sick, as I have, you'll know what a cruel, cruel joke this would be.

All Saints' Day (or, Halloween: The Recap).

It was a lousy Halloween. And I don't say that because the kids cleaned us out of candy. I say that because there were hardly any kids and I got stuck with all kinds of candy.

What's the matter with you, kids? Have you no sense of decency? Do you really want to see poor Mr. Key get fatter and lose all his teeth? Do you? Where's the love of community? Where's the support for your local novelist?

It was a bit cold, almost Decembery weather, and then around seven it started to rain. Just a little; just enough. That seemed to put the kibosh on it. Normally we get hit late by teenagers costumed as teenagers wearing hoodies and carrying Mom's spare pillowcases, but even though it was a Friday night, they apparently found better things to do than run around in cold rain and try to hit as many houses as possible before town curfew. Loser teenagers! We saved the better stuff for last, you know!

On this All Saints' Day, surrounded by leftover candy I overbought, haunted by my resentment about being invited to a Halloween party (which I complained about like King Baby the other day), it's pretty clear that the obvious sins of pride, anger, and gluttony are going to keep me from being a saint if nothing else. The lack of any notable good deeds might also have an effect on the decision. No, relics of Fred are never going to cure anyone's blindness, stop anyone's hemorrhage, or get you past the driver's exam. On the other hand, that means people won't be ringing the bell asking for bits of my bones. So there's an upside.

Peter, Paul: Great saints, unpopular Halloween costumes.

Halloween/All Saints' Day does over two days what Christmas does all by itself: provide a popular children's holiday and a day you have to go and be sullen in church. (Relax; when All Saints' Day falls on a Saturday, like this year, or a Monday, the obligation is abrogated.) (Meaning, you don't have to go.) On one hand there's the candy and costumes; on the other there's sitting in an uncomfortable pew, focusing on people who are much better than you would ever want to be. Which is more popular, again? Western culture has taken solemn and important holy days, made them more palatable for children by adding fun traditions and foods, and blown up the children's side to titanic portions while jettisoning the rest.

Once again we are forced to confront our national refusal to grow up---except that you have to have grown up a little for the argument to have any impact. Otherwise you just roll over and have another Snickers.

As for me, I take my responsibility as a churchman seriously, but someone has to eat all this candy, you know. It's not going to eat itself. Other things may, but not candy.

The true meaning of Halloween.

Let's take a moment from all the hustle and bustle of the holiday to contemplate the true meaning of Halloween. 

Ha. We all know it's

Awright! 

For some of us adults, Halloween will be an opportunity to exercise our abilities at zombie makeup, giant puppet creation, or attempting to get next to the Naughty Ebola Nurse at the office party. But for most of us, it will mean: free excuse to wolf down chocolate. 

The Christian Science Monitor reports that U.S. Halloween candy spending is $2.2 billion this year. Clearly we have lost our minds. But we've retained our sweet tooth, so that's okay. 

Just so we're all clear on the rules: 

1) Stock up with lots of classic candy like NECCO wafers, Dots, Dum-Dums, Mary Janes, Star Brites, Lemon Drops, Bazooka gum, and chocolate. 

2) Fend off the trick-or-treaters with NECCO wafers, Dots, Dum-Dums, Mary Janes, Star Brites, Lemon Drops, and Bazooka gum, and eat the good stuff yourself.

I don't do scary things for the kids anymore on Halloween. One year I had a rubber scare mask and I flung open the door to find a four-year-old Batman on the porch by himself. I almost made him wet his utility belt. 

Now I usually answer the door in my Groucho glasses and mustache, and that's just so none of the kids will recognize the dude who fobbed off the Dum-Dums and Star Brites while his shirt was covered in chocolate. 

No pumpkin cookie!

One of the clients I do freelance work for was doing a potluck Halloween get-together and I was on the e-mail list. The idea was that everyone who wants brings something homemade, and a panel of judges gives awards for the best dishes. I have a butt-kicking recipe for pumpkin cookies, and I went as far as holding a can of pumpkin in my hand, ready to roll.

Then I decided: No pumpkin cookie for you.

Why? Am I just a party pooper? Am I the kind of punk who goes to a party and brings nothing and eats everything? Am I just a rotten, no-fun weenie?

Yes, but that's beside the point. Here are the reasons that rushed up on me while I held that can of pumpkin:

1) Freelancers never win competitions. You're always an alien in a party like that if you're not a full-timer. Even those who are part of the Obama 29-Hour Army are just endured, never welcomed into the bosom of the family. Everyone will know what you brought, even if the competition claims to be a blind taste test, and you will automatically if subtly be disqualified.

2) It's tiresome to bring sweets to an office, even for a party. You wind up having to hear from everyone who went to the gym that morning, and everyone who hasn't had a sweet thing since Valentine's Day, tee hee. Which brings me to the latest revelation:

3) The last time I was at that office I heard a tedious one-upmanship conversation about who was better at giving up gluten. This was the worst excuse for a pissing contest I have ever heard, and I've been in lots of battles that were not even worth being won. Why would I waste cookies on people like that? I use gluteny flour with extra gluten: so there!

4) And of course, when I make my fine, fine cookies, who winds up eating most of them? Fat Freddy Key, that's who. Got to taste them, make sure they're okay, then make sure they didn't get hard the next day, then one more to see how the icing took... I'm fat enough now, thanks.

And 5) As King of Suburbia, I'd have to bring these cookies into the city. They're a crisp cookie. One bonk on the bus and I've got a bag full of crumbs. Which I would then have to eat myself.

So, the hell with it. I'll slip a box of Twinkies into the mix and eat nothing myself. I may be a party pooper, but this party is probably pre-pooped for the sake of convenience.

Dial up the terror!

Oooooh! Scaaaaaaaaaary!

Okay, maybe not too scary. This is Dial's Halloween hand soap, in non-Halloween scent. It has a very nice scent, I should say, but it's just a foaming hand soap, not, say, a pumpkin-scented or burning-leaf-scented or candy-corn-scented soap. This doesn't quite make the cut for the Great Lileks's "Pumpkinification of Everything" that he's been running through October, as there's no pumpkin flavor; also, he's focusing mostly on candy and snacks.

The Dial bottle is disappointing enough. It's certainly got nice art, and the standard Dial foaming soap bottle shape gives it a more pumpkiny look than many other seasonal pumpkin-themed products. The problem is, it is supposed to be glow-in-the-dark. Twenty minutes of light supposedly fires up the glow-in-the-dark outline of the spooky face. Look out! Could scare the kids!

Well, here's my artist's impression of what it looked like in the dark:

And it thereby fulfilled a longstanding tradition of non-glowing glow-in-the-dark products for Halloween.

It's important to keep these holiday traditions going from one generation to the next. In November we'll focus on your aunt's dry turkey and watching your school lose on Homecoming Day.