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Kathy Kemper Headshot

The Grinch of Halloween

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I hate Halloween.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for costumes, parties and tricking; it's the treating part I hate. Why, when a huge percent of this country is morbidly obese, when heart disease is the leading cause of death, when diabetes is epidemic, when we know that fat-filled, sugar-coated crap is killing us -- why do we go ga-ga for gluttony? Or allow our kids to?

Trick-or-treating came to us, in altered form, from that hallowed country across the pond. One of their traditions, called souling, involved children and the poor going door-to-door, singing and saying prayers for the dead in return for food. We Americans love to modernize and sterilize things; presumably some combination of convenience and fear led us to only give out -- and accept -- shrink wrapped candy.

Delicious though it may be, this stuff tends to be several generations removed from anything resembling food. America is paying for years of eating junk; it's time to end this ridiculous tradition right now. Honestly, we might as well hand out sodas, booze and cigarettes to kids. Candy is an addictive drug, too.

I wouldn't have a problem with Halloween if we could marshal the desire to dislocate our jaws and swallow entire bags of chocolate the other 364 days of the year. But we just can't seem to keep our collective mouths shut. And you can forget about exercise! It's no match for candy: go for a one hour run and you've burned the equivalent of... two whole Snickers bars. For some kids, that's breakfast!

I've decided what I'm going to be for Halloween this year: the Grinch. Watch out, Whoville! Come to my house and get a recyclable cup of water! Or don't come.

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