We Have Found Halloween's Worst Person in America
This morning, as we all stumble into work with the remnants of costume makeup smudged around our eyes, while candy and pumpkin brew still slog through our blood streams, we may not feel great. But perhaps it helps to think of the joy you brought hordes of Halloween-loving trick-or-treaters, who crowded to your door giddy to show off their colorful or creepy costumes in exchange for some warmth and mini-candy bars. Or maybe you’re a cold-hearted asshole who can’t get into the holiday spirit because you’re too busy wishing those damned poors would stay to their own neighborhoods on Halloween.
One such asshole wrote in to “Dear Prudence” asking if it’s cool to tell the poor kids to fuck off. You can read the full letter here, but the key points are that this person lives in “one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the country, but on one of the more ‘modest’ streets”, goes by “Halloween for the 99 Percent,” and really hates it when kids from not-the-wealthiest neighborhoods get dropped off to trick-or-treat on his/her gold-dusted streets.
Halloween for the 99 Percent writes (with a suffocating amount of privilege):
“Halloween isn’t a social service or a charity in which I have to buy candy for less fortunate children. Obviously this makes me feel like a terrible person, because what’s the big deal about making less fortunate kids happy on a holiday? But it just bugs me, because we already pay more than enough taxes toward actual social services. Should Halloween be a neighborhood activity, or is it legitimately a free-for-all in which people hunt down the best candy grounds for their kids?”
That “terrible person” feeling? Just run with that, 99. Roll in it. Reflect a bit, you fucking grotesquerie.
Prudence said pretty much the same, though with less cursing. To each their own.
In the urban neighborhood where I used to live, families who were not from the immediate area would come in fairly large groups to trick-or-treat on our streets, which were safe, well-lit, and full of people overstocked with candy. It was delightful to see the little mermaids, spider-men, ghosts, and the occasional axe murderer excitedly run up and down our front steps, having the time of their lives. So we’d spend an extra $20 to make sure we had enough candy for kids who weren’t as fortunate as ours. There you are, 99, on the impoverished side of Greenwich or Beverly Hills, with the other struggling lawyers, doctors, and business owners. Your whine makes me kind of wish that people from the actual poor side of town come this year not with scary costumes but with real pitchforks. Stop being callous and miserly and go to Costco, you cheapskate, and get enough candy to fill the bags of the kids who come one day a year to marvel at how the 1 percent live.
Well said, Prudie. Take a bow.
Need to feel better about the world? Here’s the heart-warming story of Josette Duran, a generous mom who began making a second lunch to send with her son to school because his friend couldn’t afford to eat.
Kristy Puchko can’t even sometimes.