Geriatric Halloween

(Pictured above: David Marvin Mailer in his Stretchoweenie costume for the 2007 holiday season.)

The Journal takes this opportunity to wish the readership a retroactively merry and sildenafil citrate-fuelled Halloween. Our exit (sic) survey of the readership revealed three-quarters of you are over 80. Accordingly we publish here Michael Edward Rashoff's spatistics from the big event to render intellectually masticable what was in all likelihood your final holiday over room temperature.

You were out of breath from knocking on the door.

You had to have another ‘kid’ chew your candy for you.

You asked for Metamucil-flavored jujubes.

When someone dropped a candy corn in your bag, you lost your balance and fell over.

People said: "Great Hillary mask" and you weren't wearing a mask.

When the door opened you yelled, "Trick or…wha...?"

By the end of the night, your bag was full of restraining orders.

You had to choose a costume that wouldn't depilate your hairpiece from Kazakhstan.

You were the only Power Ranger in the neighborhood on a walker.

You kept having to go home to change your diaper--you shit yourself four times.