Friday, October 31, 2008
The Dumbfuck of the Beast
The following was originally published here two years ago, on Halloween of 2006. I'm resurrecting it mostly because it relays, in off-the-cuff fashion, a story concerning my brief time at Dade Christian School in Miami -- coincidentally where Rapture Ready dingbat Victoria Jackson graduated. It'll explain quite a bit about the origins of her inane beliefs.
I always found Halloween to be kind of a silly holiday. I certainly understand its pagan roots, but at this stage of civilization -- things being what they presently are and all -- I can't help but feel that the inflated emphasis on ghosts, witches, black cats and the like as objects of fear is, well, Rockwellian in its quaintness.
I mean, could any of Edgar Allen Poe's delusions -- even at its most brutally drug-induced -- ever have metastasized into something as perfectly evil as Dick Cheney?
Terrorists want to kill me; My President doesn't have a brain, yet still inexplicably walks, talks and smirks; His second in command is regularly seen growling, and shoots his elderly friends in the face; Human viscera line the streets of Iraq; and you're telling me the ranch-style house up the street with a couple of tombstones in the front yard, a vegetable with a face carved in it, and the all-night Monsterfest on A&E is supposed to scare me?
That said, I'll relay a truly terrifying tale from my short time at one of the most frightening places on Earth: Dade Christian School.
The God-fearing men and women who run the place were -- and no doubt still are -- committed to making sure that all of their students have a Halloween that's happy, safe, and free from the torment of eternal damnation. That's why every year the school has its own Halloween party in which each child is encouraged to dress as -- wait for it -- his or her favorite Bible character. Needless to say, this typically causes some confusion, seeing as how the whole "beard and robes" thing was pretty much the only look going back in the day.
Upon learning the theme of the traditional Dade Christian Halloween-Without-Hell Extravaganza, I of course began peppering one of my teachers with question after ridiculous question about what my costume could and couldn't entail:
Could I pour salt all over myself and be Lot's wife?
What about water? Would dousing myself in water help me to stand out as obviously being Noah?
Could I just come naked and be Adam?
If I dressed as Pharaoh, could I cast the entire school into bondage?
Isn't Satan technically a Bible character?
These annoyances continued until the teacher finally ended them in the usual way: by sending me to the Dean's office.
Surprisingly, he wasn't expecting to see my face again so soon -- being that a few days earlier, an angry and frustrated faculty chaperone had deemed that I be exiled to his office for reading the novelization of Halloween III: Season of the Witch during the entire bus ride to and from our class trip to Disney World.
You know something? Now that I think about it -- maybe dressing as a Christian really is the scariest costume imaginable.
Happy Halloween kids -- and whatever you do, stay away from Old Man Cheney's house.