By Jeff Houck
MEDIA GENERAL NEWS SERVICE
What’s the point of having Halloween anymore? Seriously.
Is the point to scare each other with costumes? If so, we’re failing miserably. When vampires become the new sex symbols, the idea of walking around with fangs and a cape becomes a tad dated. From a costume standpoint, it seems the goal is to give women the latitude to wear skimpy outfits in public that they would march in protest over every other day of the year.
Is the holiday’s point to gather as much candy as possible? If so, we’re again pulling an F on the culinary scorecard.
It wasn’t always so.
It used to be that a candy trip through the neighborhood was like collecting bars of gold from a chocolate Fort Knox. Giant planks of Hershey chocolate were commonplace. Massive Milky Ways were a reason to get out of bed that morning. The Nestle Crunch bars were so big, it sounded like bones breaking in your head when you gnawed on one.
Then came the great miniaturization of the 1970s. Only the candy makers didn’t call it that. They disguised their portion skimpiness by using the worst two-word combination ever created: Fun Size. What exactly is fun about a candy bar the size of a postage stamp? Size matters, especially when it comes to candy.
It isn’t that we’ve lost our interest in candy. I read last week that the top search terms for Halloween candy on Yahoo! in the past month are, in order: 1) Candy corn 2) Candy apples 3) m&m’s 4) Butterfingers 5) Mars candy.
I’m sorry, but those are lame.
To me, Halloween without some element of danger is a waste of time. (Minus the razor blade in the apple, of course.)
Tired of cute, peanut butter pumpkins and dainty, ghost-shaped Peeps, I went in search of candy even Freddy Krueger could love.
My favorites:
Monster Gummy Tentacle ($2.50, Walgreens). Now we’re talking! You eat a foot-long invertebrate appendage, you’ve made a statement. Oddly, the gummy tentacle is raspberry flavored. I never considered that a giant tentacle would have a fruity aftertaste. Go figure. If that’s not your speed, they also sell a Monster Gummy Earthworm, which is, again oddly, watermelon flavored.
Liquid Cherry Candy Blood Bag ($1.50, Walgreens). This sticky pretend IV bag is such a colossally bad message to send — “Hey kids, blood is candy!” — but it does meet the gore quotient. That it was made in China soothes no nerves whatsoever. Why not just give out samples of Mainway’s Bag O’ Glass?
Blood Balls Bubble Gum (25 cents, CVS). Again with the blood. I think I speak for all men when I say that the very name of this product makes us alternately giggle and cringe. The “mega sour mouth coloring gumball” might take the visual blood metaphor a bit too far. Then again, I could be wrong.
Skeleton Pops ($1, Dollar Store). Sold in a coffin-shaped bag, the skeleton’s body is the stick for the red lollipop head. Extra points are earned for the ultimate decapitation that occurs when the lollipop endures the Saliva O’ Death treatment.
Grave Grabbers Gummy Candy ($1, Walgreens). Pound for pound, it’s hard to beat gummy candy for elastic grossness. This hand-shaped candy packaged in a gravestone features decomposing tendons and gray skin with yellow fingernails. You might not want to eat it, but I guarantee with 100 percent certainty that it will achieve the exact reaction you want if you leave it in someone’s bed after they go trick-or-treating. But you didn’t hear that from me.