Rascals, Scoundrels, Villains, and Knaves

AJ's obsession with "Pirates of the Caribbean" manifests itself tonight in his Captain Jack Sparrow costume. Since he's seen the first film 237 times in the past year, I figured he'd have picked up on the conflicted nature of Captain Jack, the greed of Depp's potrayal counterbalanced with an inate sense of good and fair play. So I asked AJ if he was going to be a friendly pirate or a scary pirate. He looked at me as one might look at a three-legged puppy, with compassion for my plight, sadness and empathy for one less fortunate.

"Daddy," he said. "I'm going to be a scary pirate. I have a sword."

He kindly left the implied "DUH!" unsaid.

I've never been much of a Halloweed-o-phile. I can't even remember the last time I dressed up. I'm sure this paints me as No Fun At All, but so many costumes demand covering the face--a crime on par with shrouding the Mona Lisa--but worse, wearing something on top of the head, so as to obscure my hair. Preposterous!

That said, I'm a sucker for a $4.99 mullet wig and that's what I bought the other day at the local drug store. I splattered some spaghetti sauce on a pit-stained wife-beater and BAM! instant costume. So I'll be hitting the streets tonight with Captain Jack dressed as white trash. The wig doesn't exactly lay right on my head, so I needed a hat and the only one big enough to complete the job was Brandon Schaefer's white Mariner cap--huge...ahem...brain on Schaefer--that I somehow ended up with in my luggage post-Bash. So, I suppose I'll be from Aberdeen.

I'll thankfully not be at home to greet the local trick-or-treaters. Before you tag me a curmudgeon, note that my front door is downstairs. It's the only thing downstairs in my apartment, so there's no way I'm spending my evening trudging up and down for the little Buzz Lightyears and Fairy Princesses. In the past, I've left bowls of candy outside my front door with a sign to take only one, but that never works. So, in keeping with my costume and a desire to provide for the Boys and Girls in my Hood, I will spread an array of pork products in my absence. Raw bacon strips, brauts and Scrapple. I couldn't, for the life of me, find any chipped beef.

We carved our pumpkin last night based on a design of AJ's making. The markings in no way resembled shapes that have actual names and the "mouth" in particular was well beyond my artistic ability. Still, armed with my trusty, rusty switchblade, I managed to make it symmetrical. And it did come out looking kind of scary. I'd have posted a picture, but somebody out there would have felt the urge to mock my lack of carving moxie and I would have had to cut you.

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My Main Man Jason Spaceman, Poker Writer Extraordinaire, and now proud owner of the longest capitalized title in the whole of bloggerdom, is going to be covering the WSOP Circuit Event at Caesar's Indiana. Which is not especially exciting news, since he's been doing this sort of thing for some time now and...well...it's Indiana. No, the exciting part is that his usual Bluff gig will now also be picked up by Harrah's at the official WSOP site. Drive the traffic, people. And congrats to Jason, a talented SOB who has not let his success go to his head. Much.

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T-minus 14 hours 'til NaNoWriMo. I suppose I'll throw down a sentence or two at 12:01 if AJ will give me some of his candy stash so the sugar rush keeps me up late enough. The field is wide amongst my blogging breathren. Find them listed below. Give them soothing compliments and gentle caresses for the next month. Or alcohol. Whichever. Good luck and flowing prose to all of us (and if I missed anyone, just hit me up in comments, but be nice, so I don't have to cut you).

gracie
Mean Gene
facty
Bobby Bracelet
Ignatious
Scurvy
Kat
Chilly
Garth
Otis
Paul Phillips