Halloween on The Huffington Post

David Finkle: Holiday Cheer: Not Always So Cheerful

2009-11-17T10:16:16Z

And now for some more palaver from your Cheerful Curmudgeon. And remember that curmudgeonhood, by definition, means, among many other things, being habitually late to the figurative party.

So you'll forgive the Cheerful C. if he's only recently learned about the Gross National Happiness Index that Facebook has developed over the past few years. It's the index that, as the curmudgeon understands it, is the constantly developing result of computers sorting for indications of happiness or sadness through words used on Facebook posts.

The search has pinpointed individual and collective happiness by clocking repeated words. For those as resolutely and regularly behind-the-curve as the C. C., it might be helpful to mention that positive, or happy, words in posts include "happy" (duh!), "yay!" and "awesome." Words denoting the opposite include "sad" (duh again!), "doubt" and "tragic."

According to Facebook--which seems to have borrowed this idea from Bhutan King Jigme Singye Wangchuck and a gauge of his country's well-being--it becomes an easy thing to clock the nation's happiest days. By the use of a simple chart (which won't be reproduced here for reasons of technological ignorance), the happiest day by far for mood-swinging Americans is Thanksgiving, followed (if the Curmudgeon reads the chart correctly) by Christmas, Easter, Fourth of July, Valentine's Day and Halloween--all of them, by inference, combining into one sustained nation-wide "whee!"

(Note no mention of New Year's Eve,)

So here's where the Cheerful Curmudgeon has to say it's all too clear that the word-crunching computers selecting "happy" and "yay!" and "awesome" (probably most frequently plucked from the phrase "Awesome, dude!)--and drawing conclusions about their import--have obviously never been to a 12-step meeting.

If those computers had sat in support-group gatherings at certain holiday times of the year--and we're just entering the biggest--they'd know happiness is not an abundant commodity. It can be quite the opposite for people recovering on a one-day-at-a-time basis. The mere mention of, particularly, Thanksgiving and Christmas and, almost as significantly, Valentine's Day can strike fear in the hearts of those sharing in rooms with folding-chairs. Bringing up the dicey subject(s) makes blood run cold and hair stand on end.

As the Cheerful Curmudgeon understands it from having 12-step-matriculated many years back, the words "Christmas" and "Thanksgiving" instantly conjure images of family, and family--or perhaps individual family members--are the ones seen as responsible for the origins of the recovering member's problems. Deciding whether to spend holiday time with people believed to be perpetrators is hardly cause for wide smiles and the irresistible desire to put on party hats. Breaking bread with abusers around the Yule log isn't appealing to men and women unable to release resentments completely. As for Valentine's Day, the recollections of failed romances also falls short of the urge to shout "hooray!" and dance a jig.

At this point in the column at hand, there's the temptation to mention holiday suicide rates, since for so long it's been conventional wisdom that death by one's own hand spikes dramatically during the last six weeks of the years. Is that old fave flick It's a Wonderful Life behind this canard? If so, it's misleading, since, according to studies, suicides don't multiply between Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve but in the early spring.

That doesn't mean, of course, that when wassail-time draws near, everything is hunky-dory. The Cheerful Curmudgeon does know one psychotherapist who reports he can expect his practice to become busier as November approaches. This is just anecdotal evidence, of course, but still.

Perhaps the explanation for the Facebook Gross National Happiness Index's gross neglect of the high anxiety associated with holidays can be traced to those computers. It seems as if the news release announcing the FGNHI stipulated that for the purposes of privacy "no one at Facebook actually reads the status updates in the process of doing this research." The task is completely left to computers, but perhaps if real people were involved, they might question the findings--some almost certainly from personal experience.

The Cheerful Curmudgeon only mentions this at length here, because denying wide-spread downbeat feelings as the year's festivities loom can be problematic. Such lack of acknowledgment can mean sufferers will only feel more removed from the general jubilation, further isolated in their despair. And that would be compounding the situation rather than helping to alleviate it by understanding, by empathizing.

As for those over-worked computers: Imagine that this column had been posted on Facebook. The word "cheerful" shows up in it several times. But although its author is basically cheerful and gets through holidays pretty much intact, the message contained isn't entirely cheerful. That's to say, computers miss irony. (So do many people.) And the inability to detect irony might even give the lie to Facebook's whole undertaking.

Super Mario Brothers Rob Taxi Driver (VIDEO)

2009-11-12T09:09:37Z

Super Mario's not so super anymore.

Cops are searching for four men -- two of them dressed as Super Mario and his green-clad brother Luigi -- caught on tape beating and robbing a cab driver on Staten Island.

Police say the trouble started when one of the criminal characters tried stealing money out of the driver's pocket around 4 a.m. on November 1st.

The cab driver pulled over at a gas station and asked the men to pay and leave. Instead the men assaulted him and wrenched away his cash.

A third man dressed in a tuxedo reportedly acted as a lookout as the plumbers got physical with the cabbie.

Anyone who recognizes the "brothers" or has any information is asked to contact Crime Stoppers at (800) 577-TIPS or log onto www.nypdcrimestoppers.com.

WATCH:

Rejected Bride Turns Wedding Into Party For Elderly

2009-11-05T20:39:19Z

Six days before Halloween, Chicagoland bride-to-be Teanne Harris found herself in a nightmare situation, The New York Daily News reported. She had planned to spend Saturday exchanging vows with her fiance, Matt Harker. Instead, he got cold feet and she found herself with all the fixings for a perfect party but no reason to celebrate.

What's a bummed-out bride to do? Invite the residents of the retirement home across the street from the wedding venue to a Halloween-themed bash, of course.

"She came in one day and said she wanted to make a donation," said Mary Eichenfeld, Resident Service Director at Asbury Court Retirement Community. "I don't think she knew anybody here, and we don't get offers like that. So we were thrilled and so were our residents. It came out of the blue." By all account, the bash was a blast. The wedding DJ played oldies. The tables were decked out with candy jars and feathered masquerade masks. The banquet hall served up a senior-friendly meal. And the guests dressed up as everything from Dracula to Raggedy Ann. As for the bridal bouquet, Harris had it placed in the chapel of the old folks' home.

Residents shared their gratitude with CBS News.

"God bless her. She'll find someone else. I did," said Asbury Court Resident Karen Hamelberg. When resident Ana Rojas was asked what her message would be for the bride she said, "Oh my God, yes! This world, it looks miserable, but there is good people in it."

When the New York Daily News attempted to reach the bride for comment, it was told that she was en-route to her honeymoon destination, Hawaii.

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Rachel Sklar: Horror Chick: Why Do We Like Scary Movies?

2009-11-05T12:02:15Z

Melissa Lafsky is a friend of mine, but she's always seemed strange to me for one reason: She loves horror movies. Loves them. Thrillers, slashers, creature features — she's seen all of them, probably a bunch of times, and certainly without her eyes covered. I, by contrast, mute the sound when some stupid slasher commercial comes on during The Daily Show (seriously, Comedy Central, it's enough). I fail to see how a movie called "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" could be remotely appealing, let alone beget any sort of sequel. And yet, horror films are big box office hits, and always seem to find an audience. Which explains why Melissa's new column, "Horror Chick," has become such a favorite over at The Awl, where she writes with gusto about dismemberments, flayings, hangings, stabbings, impalings, devourings, eviscerations and the odd demonic possession. The tagline from her column is "Melissa Lafsky really likes horror movies." In honor of Hallowe'en — and my own fear of scary, scary things in the dark — I asked her why.

What is a "Horror" film per se? What makes it different from, say, a "Thriller?"

Nowadays the difference is mostly body count. But it's also the place the film takes you - a good horror movie will go much darker into the human psyche. It'll do things that you really can't believe were done on screen. A thriller will keep you in suspense, but it won't keep you up at night. The Game left you freaked out for a little while, but Wes Craven will make you turn on every light in your house and buy a doberman.

Does Jaws qualify? How about Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus? (Sorry, I just wanted to make a reference to Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus.)

I think creature movies (both good and bad -- King Cobra was in the latter category, but it was still awesome) are some of the best horror out there — because they confront us with our own physical weakness in the face of animals, as well as the horror that is man's attitude towards nature. Just watch any creature film, from great to awful — Jaws, Lake Placid, Anaconda, Deep Blue Sea, or yes, Mega Shark v. Giant Octopus. You'll find these films are all about how we harass, degrade and destroy animals that are more powerful than we are. It's pretty tragic.

Jaws is in its own category -- it packs every fear and neurosis humans can muster (the unknown, mortality, water, the elements) into one film. It is a movie I think about every time I enter a large body of water. What other movie has that kind of effect on your psyche, on a permanent basis? Plus it is the master of creating fear without ever showing the monster (until Bruce makes his first appearance towards the end)

What's your favorite Horror genre? (Slasher pics, demonic possession, girls going into a spooky house and deciding to take a shower, etc. etc. etc.)

Slasher flicks have a very interesting place in society - they're perfect barometers of cultural and social standards at the time. The moral code set out by the Friday the 13th movies, which graduates to the post-irony of the Scream films. (The Friday the 13thmoral code: having sex will get you killed. The Final Girl is the pure, virginal one. Every teen who has sex or does drugs dies a horrible gory death.) But hands down my favorite are creature movies. Even terrible ones. I've seen Anaconda maybe 12 times, and I root for the snake every damn time.

Talk to me about Rosemary's Baby and The Exorcist. Do they still hold up? What are the pillars of the genre? (Poltergeist, The Shining, Hallowe'en?)

Rosemary's Baby absolutely holds up -- it creates a timeless element of vulnerability and self-doubt. When you are totally at the mercy of people (ahem, men) who are telling you you're crazy, but in your heart you KNOW something is very very wrong -- that is the definition of terror. The Exorcist, I hate to say, doesn't really hold up. Sure, the crucifix scene is still shocking, but we've come so far with CGI that many of the effects just look silly. Plus I've seen too many interviews with Linda Blair complaining about how the green slime smelled awful and stained her dress. Sort of spoils the effect.

Can you explain to me why Paranormal Activity is scary but Slither is funny? (NB: The Slither poster looked like a tiny army of sundried tomatoes joining a girl in the bath.)

All good horror incorporates humor - the line between horror and humor is very thin. We laugh as a defense mechanism whenever we're confronted with something terrifying that we can't quite process. Paranormal Activity has some very funny moments -- granted, they're deliberate laughs, and a bit contrived (the boyfriend trying to trick his girl into having sex in front of the camera by insisting "Oh no, that flashing red light is just the battery turning off!"). But the contrast between those light moments and the demon effects make the scares all the more potent.

Slither is basically a big post-modern homage to all the body-gore of films like Cronenberg and Re-Animator and anything Clive Barker. It's a totally ironic film that pokes fun at itself all the time - and manages to totally gross you out at the same time.

Let's talk about where Horror meets Camp. There's a big difference between Rosemary's Baby and Army of Darkness. Is it still horror if it's winking at you?

Sure, in that they both belong in the genre. Army of Darkness broke some new ground - certainly you hadn't seen too many films in which the strapping leading man tore apart a witch with a chain saw. It's less psychological and more experiential - but both are taking you places you aren't used to going in polite conversation. Both challenge the viewer. And implant some terrifying images (Bruce, may your beautiful face never again be zombified and oozing black goo)

Eli Roth: Explain it to me. I am conflicted. I thought he was hot in Inglorious Basterds, but the whole Torture Porn thing makes me ill. Help?

I'm actually devoting an entire column to Eli Roth. He deserves his own discussion. Well, maybe not "deserves" -- but he's getting it anyway.

Dude, you are this gigantic feminist. How can you stomach these flicks that are all about carving up nubile young girls?

I don't really think that's true -- sure, there are the slasher flicks, but the boys really do get it as much as the girls. And movies like When a Stranger Calls or Wait Until Dark that prey on female vulnerability perform a service - they allow men to enter a world where they're always physically vulnerable. I used to live with a man who was 6'3" and 210 pounds. I once said to him: "You have no idea what it's like to walk down the street as me." He simply had no concept of being less physically powerful than just about any man he encountered -- which, let's face it, is my reality. Watching movies like this gave him a window into my world. Plus women are getting SO much more power in horror films these days -- Have you seen Hard Candy?

For the love of God, why do they insist on making Saw VI???

Because it's the most important film series ever made! And because every sequel means another $60 mill in domestic box office sales for Lionsgate.

How many bolts do you have on your door?

Many. And a rabid St. Bernard sired by Cujo waiting behind them. (hear that, Rush Limbaugh fans?)

Gimme your ten top horror flicks. This is a great excuse for a slideshow.

Okay, here you go!

SLIDESHOW: The Horror Chick's Top Ten Horror Flicks

This post originally appeared at Mediaite.

Big Girls, Small Kitchen: Baking Candy Into Blondies

2009-11-04T10:21:46Z

I've been known to add the odds and ends of my pantry and fridge to my blondie, cookie, and brownie batters. Nothing gross of course, but a handful of raisins, a bit of lemon zest from a lemon I'd bought for some savory purpose, maybe some sweetened shredded coconut lingering in the freezer. It's all about being resourceful, really. And if what's leftover happens to be from the trick-or-treaters who never showed up, then all the more reason to bake candy into batters and doughs.

Back when I was catering, in college, I made great use of the flexibility of my go-to cookie-dough base, customizing it with chocolate, nuts, fruit, spices, and candy. I'd mix up a double batch of this basic dough (butter, sugar, brown sugar, eggs, flour, baking soda, and salt) and divide it into thirds or fourths. To one part, I'd add cinnamon, diced apple, and toasted walnuts; to another, milk chocolate and toffee. I'd stir regular old dark chocolate chips into a third, and tweak the last with white chocolate, macadamia nuts, and coconut. (And on and on.) That way, when I arranged the cookies on a plate to serve, the guests would be able to bask in the variation, giving themselves an excuse to have not one but four cookies.

All of which is to say that when you're working with such an enticing base, you've got a lot of leeway with what you add in. Everything goes with butter and sugar, and a whole lot goes with chocolate. In other words, it's hard to mess up.

I feared I finally would, though, when I poured the remains of a BJ's-sized bag of Peanut M&Ms, left over a retro-themed barbecue I'd thrown, into the blondie batter I was making. Would the vibrant colors from the candy shells melt into the batter? Would the blondies look radioactive instead of exuberantly colorful? Could I still cut neat little squares? What if I substituted regular or almond M&Ms?

But it all worked out just fine, and I figured I should share the recipe right about now, since I can't imagine I'm alone in having leftover Halloween candy. I purposely bought Starburst, which I hate and wouldn't have any problem not gorging on. But I also bought Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and if you have leftovers of those, or M&Ms, Reese's Pieces, Snickers, Milky Way, Twix, or any other chocolate-y, nutty clusters, I would wholeheartedly recommend enhancing your next batch of blondies with the treats, cut up into pieces, of course, if not bite-sized already.

--by Cara Eisenpress of Big Girls, Small Kitchen

M&M Blondies
Makes 24 blondies

Ingredients
1 package light brown sugar (2 1/2 cups)
1 stick butter (1/2 cup)
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups peanut M&Ms

Preheat the oven to 325°F. Grease a 9x13" baking pan. Use a smaller baking pan for thicker blondies--just bake a bit longer.

Combine the brown sugar and butter in a small saucepan. Heat over medium heat until the butter is melted and combined and the whole mixture just begins to bubble. Remove and let come to room temperature. This will take about 20 minutes; speed it up in the fridge if need be.

When the butter and sugar have cooled, beat in the eggs and vanilla. Add the flour and salt, then gently stir in the M&Ms. Pour into the prepared pan and bake 25-30 minutes, until the top has gotten slightly puffed and crusty. Cool, and cut into small rectangles.

Dave Maass: The Terrors of Tea Bagging on Halloween

2009-11-03T14:10:00Z

Count me among the unimaginative, the uninspired, the unenthused, the Halloween-hating.

This year, as most previous, I'd left my costume (or at least the conceptualization of it) until the day before. For a moment, I thought I could get away with wearing my threadbare hoodie under my stained, fraying, armpit-ripped trench coat and fingerless knitted gloves. I'd go as homeless. Then I realized that, in the age of Twitter -- and I would no-doubt post a self-portrait -- my colleagues back in Santa Fe would be quick to point out that this was how I dressed every day when I covered the legislature. Facing my first house party, my social debut, in San Diego, where I'd moved only two weeks ago to take a job as San Diego CityBeat's staff writer, I realized that I had to, had to, come up with something a little less slapdash, something with a bit of wit and a respectable amount of effort.

In lazy Halloweens past, I disguised myself as a Republican, using the "Proud of Texas" ball cap from Rick Perry's 2006 gubernatorial reelection bid I had leftover from a piece in which I reviewed campaign shwag in Texas. Last week, the "Tea Party Express" kicked off its second national tour in San Diego and, light bulb, I had it.

Tea bagger.

Using as my starting pont William Kostric, the protester who made national headlines when he turned up strapped and carrying a "IT IS TIME TO WATER THE TREE OF LIBERTY" sign to an anti-Obama rally, I clodhopped over to the army surplus store behind the office to assemble the other elements. The shop declared itself in handwritten letters "Halloween Headquarters," which really is only accurate for those planning on dressing up as a Swiss military ... or as right-wing extremists.

The T-shirt was easy; the clearance rack overflowed with far-right propaganda and I decided that "Peace through Superior Firepower" was too cliché, whereas "The Strong Survive" was pitch perfect for my satirization. Right-wingers were surely oblivious to the downright Darwinistic implications of the slogan.

I needed a gun, something hand held and automatic that I could strap to my calf as Kostric did. For some reason, wearing the gun down there feels so much more militia than a belt holster. I dropped $16 on an "UZI Rescue Force" kit -- body armor, handcuffs, gas mask, whistle and "light and sound" Uzi,

Frightening thing #1: The whole kit was sized to fit a five year old.

Now, what's a tea bagger without an outrageous sign? After great thought and Googling, I combined some of the most ridiculous (and common) tea-bagger catchphrases into this single sentence: "THE LIBERTREE IS THIRSTY FOR THE BLOOD OF ISLAMO-SOCIALISTS." I picked out the Castellar font because, to me, it looked most like the one used on American currency, the great symbol of capitalism. Next to the words, taped together like a kidnapper's note, I mounted the ubiquitous Obama-as-Heath Ledger's Joke image: yet another intentional jab at tea-bagger gullibility. As the LA Times reported, The image was created by a Dennis Kucinich supporter screwing around with automatic image-transformation software.

On the reverse side, I taped the full Obama's Kenyan certificate of live birth, itself a hoax design to punk the birthers. Above it, I affixed a Sarah Palin-Glenn Beck 2012 bumper sticker I found through Google images. I attached it all to the short side of plank stolen from canvas frame, pointed on both ends.

I needed a visual cue, something that would spell out the costume for the confused. So, using tape and the strap from my dog's airplane carrier, I manufactured a tea-bag bullet sash.

Frightening thing #2: My roommate had no idea what a tea-bagger was.

A coworker and her husband picked me up and brought me to the party. The two-story house was fantastic, each room decorated in its own theme: heads on stakes in a blood-filled tub in the bathroom; a Big Bad Wolf munching on a decapitated Red Riding Hood in the guest room; a full homemade haunted house ride in the yard powered by a double-wide motorized wheelchair. The costumes were also incredible: a young woman in curlers and a grill, lugging a blue baby on an umbilical cord, represented one of the reenactors from Discovery Channel's "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant," a man who claimed to operate an oil platform for Chevron off the coast of Alaska wore a museum-replica of Henry VIII's robes.

Early on, an African-American guest -- wearing a horse codpiece attached to his neck by a noose (figure it out yourself) -- told me he was offended. He later said he was joking, but it made me realize that even though there wasn't anything to indicate racism, no swastika, no ape-in-a-turban stuffed animal, the elements were all there: Obama in white face, the Kenyan birth certificate, the secessionist implications of the hat, the selective survival shirt.

I slowly realized that I was dressed a white supremacist. I felt like Prince Harry learning too late that a Nazi uniform wasn't appropriate for any circumstance, not even a costume ball. What was worse: the whole costume wasn't as obviously satirical as I had intended. I looked like the real deal. Guests eyed me uncomfortably, read my sign and smiled nervously. Fact is, I should've known better. I'd written about white nationalists infiltrating tea parties only a couple of months ago.

I lost the get-up gradually over the night; I set aside the sign, then put the uzi in my pocket, stashed away the tea bag sash (potent Yogi tea was all I had at home and it was making me sneeze).

Frightening Thing #3: I zipped up my black jacket...and that made it even worse. I caught myself in the mirror; between the cargo pants, the short hair and the steel-toed boots, I'd transformed into a skinhead.

I put the tea-bag sash back on.

They say that a Halloween costume speaks loads about one's true self. The girl who dresses as a nun, with a habit that hangs to her toes, is self-conscious. A man who rolls in drag is comfortable with his testosterone. The skeleton t-shirt exposes the slacker.

I guess mine revealed how much I hate Halloween.

Denver Halloween Snowstorm Time Lapse

2009-11-02T18:06:12Z

Denver's Halloween snowstorm--the biggest October storm in 12 years--caught many of us by surprise. One YouTube fan, however, was ready with a camera. This time lapse video condenses the entire storm into one minute:

Read more: Snowstorm, Video, Halloween, Denver, Denver News

Ice-T & Coco's S&M Costume: Love It Or Leave It? (PHOTOS)

2009-11-02T16:20:57Z

Rapper and 'Law & Order: Special Victims Unit' actor Ice-T attended Mariah Carey's Halloween party with wife Coco dressed up in S&M gear. Ice-T even had a mouth gag in.

The pair role played on the red carpet, with Ice-T pretending to spank Coco with his right hand while gripping a handful of hair with his left.

PHOTOS:

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Read more: Halloween, Poll, Coco, Ice-T, Entertainment News

Celebrity Halloween Costumes From HuffPost Readers! (PHOTOS, POLL)

2009-11-02T09:56:26Z

We asked for pictures of your celebrity-inspired Halloween costumes and you delivered. Vote below for the most creative, well-executed costumes and see who came out on top.

PHOTOS:

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Halloween Party Photos: How New York's A-List Marked The Holiday

2009-11-02T09:15:07Z

As noted by Vanity Fair, Halloween night presented New York's A-List with a wide variety of social options.

The Smile/Jane Hotel party, hosted in the Flatiron district by Evisu's Carlos Quirarte, Matt Kliegman, and Taavo Somer, drew what VF accurately predicted would be a "downtown" crowded, featuring the likes of Kirsten Dunst, designer Charlotte Ronson, "it girl" DJs Harley Viera Newton and Cassie Coane, R.E.M.'s Michael Stipe, artist/DJ Nate Lowman, and Narciso Rodriguez.

Over in Gramercy, Nur Khan hosted an A-list Heroes and Villians themed party at Rose Bar, which drew Hugh Grant, Jason Statham, Alexa Chung, Agyness Deyn, Christian Siriano, Lily Donaldson, Andres & Lauren Santo Domingo, Ally Hilfiger, Jay Lyon, Alex Greenwald, among many others.

See photos from those two parties below, courtesy Patrick McMullan:

Heidi Klum Steps Out After Baby In Thigh Highs As A Crow For Halloween (PHOTOS)

2009-11-01T11:31:46Z

Heidi Klum made her first public appearance since giving birth to daughter Lou just three weeks ago to host her annual Halloween bash.

Klum and husband Seal dressed up as crows, as seen below. Klum donned thigh high boots, fishnets, black face paint and a whole lot of feathers for the look.

PHOTOS:

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Steven 'Cojo' Cojocaru Does Khloe Kardashian For Halloween (PHOTO)

2009-11-01T11:20:46Z

Entertainment television host Steven 'Cojo' Cojocaru dressed up as pretty realistic Khloe Kardashian for Halloween. Cojo arrived at Heidi Klum's annual Halloween base dressed as the youngest Kardashian on her wedding day, complete with oversize ring, strapless tiered gown and silver belt.

Here is the real Khloe.

White House Halloween Welcomes 2,000 Kids, Trick-Or-Treaters (PHOTOS)

2009-10-31T20:59:48Z

BY CHRISTINE SIMMONS, AP

WASHINGTON — President Barack Obama and first lady Michelle Obama on Saturday doled out presidential M&Ms and dried fruit mixes to more than 2,000 trick-or-treaters, marking their Halloween at a White House event partly aimed at honoring military families.

Dressed as superheroes, pirates, fairies and skeletons, the kids came in with their parents from Maryland, Virginia and Washington D.C., lining up at the orange lit White House.

Naked Pumpkin Run At Risk: Boulder Colorado Police Threaten Crackdown

2009-10-31T17:34:06Z

For nearly a decade, naked pumpkin runners did their thing unmolested, stampeding through the frigid dark past crowds of admirers who hooted, hollered and tossed candy. But last year the run attracted more than 150 participants, and Police Chief Mark Beckner fears things are getting out of hand. "It's a free-for-all," he says.

Beth Arnold: Letter From Paris: Let the Saints Come Marching In

2009-10-31T14:17:07Z

This week has been unsettling for both the Lone Wolf husband and me. I may be an antennae that picks up the energy of people all around me while he spends more time ignoring them, but we've both been distracted by "interesting" things that have been happening to our daughters in the U.S. (More about that another day.) Lone Wolf and I definitely have telepathy, but in this case of feeling unsettled, disturbed, devitalized--whatever it was that was troubling us--our feelings were transferring back and forth as well.

Though it's not perfect, we both love the new chez nous. The additional space, and charming as all get out, feels luxurious. But it's also true that even with the pleasure of new discoveries, we still don't feel attached to our new neighborhood. We feel disoriented and out of place somehow.

So this morning we set out to meet some of our neighbors--at Pere Lachaise. Being right on top of things as we usually are (hahahahaha), we remembered it was Halloween. Our friend Mario mentioned something about it being a holiday weekend--although we hadn't really paid attention or thought about what that was. But we headed over to the beautiful cemetery with full intentions of saying hey to Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, Alice B. Toklas, and others. What better companions could we have? If the 20th Arrondissement is good enough for them to reside eternally, then it certainly should work for us.

As soon as we saw the gates, we noticed tons of people were pouring in and out, single or in groups, carrying pots of mums and bouquets of luscious roses. Aha, I told L.W. It's All Saints Day tomorrow. (This occurred to me because I have always wanted to be in Mexico for big Day of the Dead festivities. I think this idea only makes sense, and how wonderful to celebrate the lives of our loved ones where they're planted in the earth by bringing the treats they liked the most.) In my experience in the U.S. of A ., once people are dead, they're d.e.a.d. We avoid this subject with our every breath and determinedly try to ignore this most unpleasant of facts of life. We would never dream of having a celebration in a cemetery.

According to Wikipedia:

The origin of the festival of All Saints as celebrated in the West dates to May 13, 609 or 610, when Pope Boniface IV consecrated the Pantheon at Rome to the Blessed Virgin and all the martyrs....The feast of All Saints, on its current date, is traced to the foundation by Pope Gregory III (731-741) of an oratory in St. Peter's for the relics "of the holy apostles and of all saints, martyrs and confessors, of all the just made perfect who are at rest throughout the world", with the day moved to November 1. ...

A November festival of all the saints was already widely celebrated on November 1 in the days of Charlemagne. It was made a day of obligation throughout the Frankish empire in 835, by a decree of Louis the Pious, issued "at the instance of Pope Gregory IV and with the assent of all the bishops", which confirmed its celebration on November 1. The octave was added by Pope Sixtus IV (1471--1484). ...

In Austria, Belgium, France, Hungary, Italy, Malta, Portugal and Spain people bring flowers to the graves of dead relatives.

Since I had decided to embark on the occasional "Meet The Neighbors" column for my blog, it was the perfect weekend to begin. As I said, my original thought was to say hello to Oscar Wilde and Misses Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, but that changed for reasons which you will soon understand.

We came upon Édith Piaf's grave. There was a crowd around, of course, and a blonde woman rather thick around the middle (fan or relative?) had laid flowers on top of the marble tomb. She was cutting and arranging them, while Piaf herself was singing from some portable player that I couldn't see. I noticed the flower arranger had put a tray of what looked like ground beef on the ground to the left of the tomb. Was it for the cats who live in the cemetery? For Piaf? Or to attract good spirits to the beloved singer?

It is only fitting that Piaf is buried in the neighborhood where she was born. Interesting facts about Piaf: She discovered and promoted Yves Montand and Charles Aznavour....In 1962, she wed Théo Sarapo (Theophanis Lamboukas), a Greek hairdresser-turned-singer and actor who was 20 years her junior..... The couple sang together in some of her last engagements. Although she was denied a funeral mass by the Roman Catholic archbishop of Paris because of her lifestyle, her funeral procession drew tens of thousands of mourners onto the streets of Paris and the ceremony at the cemetery was attended by more than 100,000 fans.

And then we came upon this series of monuments that deserve our recognition and honor. Their designs are obviously meant to draw the eye--even more so since the skeletons were fitting for both Halloween and All Saints. They are in memory of the victims of various Nazi death camps and are on the edge of the southeastern corner of the cemetery.

So I will leave you with the images and your thoughts:

For the victims of Buchenwald

For the victims of Dachau

For the victims of Dachau

For the victims of Oranienburg and Sachsenhausen

For the victims of Oranienburg and Sachsenhausen

For the victims of of Auschwitz

For the French who were deported for forced work in Germany and died, were shot, or lost

They are not forgotten. May they rest in peace.

All photos taken by Beth Arnold on her iPhone. Beth Arnold lives and writes in Paris. To see more of her work, go to www.betharnold.com

Ellen Ladowsky: Room 333: The Most Haunted Hotel Room in London

2009-10-31T12:31:18Z

11:20 pm, London, Langham Hotel, Room 333. The most haunted hotel room in London.

I have a psychological interest in all things scary. Can't stay away from them. Tell me about a psychopath or a serial killer, and I guarantee you my undivided attention. It being nearly Halloween, I settled for ghosts.

Which brings me to room 333.

The Langham Hotel, England's first "grand hotel," built in 1865 in the style of a Florentine palace, boasts the following ghosts:

A doctor who murdered his wife then killed himself while on their honeymoon. (Manifests as a silver-haired Victorian gentleman with cloak and cravat and, like all ghosts, has blank, staring eyes. Spotted in 1973 by BBC announcer James Alexander Gordon while he slumbered in Room 333. Only makes appearances in October.)

A German prince who jumped out of a fourth-floor window. (Described by BBC announcer, the late Ray Moore, as "beefy, with cropped hair, sporting a military-style jacket that buttoned up to the neck." Frequently observed in the early morning hours walking through doors. Rated most active ghost at the Langham, with a particular penchant for Room 333.)

A man with a gaping wound on his face. (Tends to stick to the hallways.)

Emperor Napoleon III, who lived at the Langham during his last days in exile. (Now prefers the basement.)

A ghost who has a thing for tipping guests out of bed while they're sleeping. (Once shook the bed in Room 333 with such enthusiasm that the occupant fled the hotel in the middle of the night.)

A butler seen wandering the corridors in his holey socks.

A footman in pale blue livery and powdered wig. (Spotted by, you guessed it, BBC staff. Presence often accompanied by a sudden drop in temperature.)

Here's the BBC connection: The Langham is just opposite Broadcasting House, home of the BBC. After World War II, several rooms on the third floor were kept as accommodation for BBC journalists who for whatever reason had to stay over night. Skeptics have suggested the ghostly encounters were concocted by BBC journalists to get out of deadlines.

Now I must confess, while I'm frightened of all sorts of things, ghosts are not high on my list. But here's what I wanted to know: what creates a spooky feeling? Room 333 seemed like a perfect place to start. Who knows, maybe I'd even get spooked myself, in which case I could conveniently be the object of my own research. I arrived at the Langham Hotel armed with Freud's 1919 essay, "The Uncanny," his study of the feeling of spookiness

I imagined that when I checked in and told the desk clerk that I'd reserved Room 333, I'd get one of two responses. He'd either downplay the lurid tales. Or he'd ham it up so I'd get my money's worth out of the adventure.

What I got, however, was terror. He stared, as though he was replaying in his mind all the horrors that had taken place in my room. "My hands are starting to tremble," he apologized. "Do you mind if I collect myself for a moment?"

"I imagine a lot of people want to sleep in Room 333, right?" I said uneasily. "You know, just for the fun of it?"

"Actually, most people try to avoid it. Sometimes we have to put people there, but they're the ones who don't know about the stories. Me, I wouldn't even step foot on the third floor. I believe in those things. I don't want to take the chance of bumping into anything. Especially now. This is the time when ghosts are most active."

The porter was somewhat more comforting. As he carried my bag down the empty halls on the third floor, he said, "I'm on this floor all the time. I work the night shift and haven't heard or felt a thing. Of course, some people are frightened by the number 333 because of, you know, that exorcism movie." (Note to self: Google exorcism and 333.)

As he was letting me into my room, several more porters suddenly materialized. They huddled around the entry to my room like ants drawn to sugar. I noticed no one stepped inside the room. Maybe they just wanted to catch a glimpse of me, so later they could tell the story of the unfortunate accident that took place in room 333 with more credibility. "She had long auburn hair and was murdered on this very spot." Or, "She seemed fine when she first arrived, but in that room she fell into a fit from which she never recovered."

As my seemingly rational porter showed me my room, he unexpectedly warned: "By the way, if you even touch anything or move something around in the mini-bar, you have to pay for it." Had my name gone out on an international list or something? Okay, so maybe once in a while I take a Diet Coke out of the mini-bar, consult the outrageous price list and put it back. But this seemed a bit harsh.

"Look," the porter said, opening the closet doors "No ghosts... But just in case, if you have any problems, call the operator. Or better, yet. Call me directly. It'll be faster."

The room was pretty unremarkable. A lot of dark wood furniture, dull checkered carpeting, a couple of prints, heavy flowery drapes, a nice, plump white comforter on the bed.

In the bathroom hung his and her bathrobes. One sleeve had a large disconcerting brown stain, like, say, the color of dried blood.

And there was a large gilded mirror, which I tried to avoid. Here's the extent of my knowledge on this subject: Vampires don't appear in them; ghosts do. As I recall from the movies, either a phosphorescent ball appears behind you or a faint shadow or a butler with a big gaping wound on his face.

On a table opposite the bed was a book commemorating the 140th anniversary of the hotel. In it there was a list of famous guests: Oscar Wilde, Mark Twain, Noel Coward, Somerset Maugham, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Sir Henry M. Stanley (of Stanley and Livingstone), Charles De Gaulle, George Orwell, Antonin Dvorak and on and on. There was also a weak joke: "All good places have ghosts, and the Langham is no exception."

Did I mention the room was freezing? I crawled into bed and listened. I expected to hear noises, if only regular hotel noises. But there wasn't a sound. Never mind no bumps in the night. There were no footsteps of other guests walking down the hall or whispered conversations or doors being tried. Nothing. Was it possible the third floor was deserted, except for me?

Stephen King wrote:

Hotel rooms are just naturally creepy places. ... I mean, how many people have slept in that bed before you? How many of them were sick? How many were losing their minds? How many were perhaps thinking about reading a few final verses from the Bible in the drawer of the nightstand beside them and then hanging themselves in the closet beside the TV?

I began reading Freud.

He observed that a spooky (uncanny) feeling -- like the one I was having right now - isn't the same as a frightening one. It also involves the feeling that something is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. There's something déjà vu about it. It's the resurfacing of childhood feelings that were repressed, felt "in the highest degree in relation to death and dead bodies, to the return of the dead. And to spirits and ghosts."

This is because when it comes down to it, nobody really believes they die. The unconscious repudiates death.

It is true that the statement 'All men are mortal' is paraded in text-books of logic as an example of a general proposition; but no human being really grasps it, and our unconscious has as little use now as it ever had for the idea of its own mortality.

Then came the kicker:

The primitive fear of the dead is still so strong within us and always ready to come to the surface on any provocation. Most likely our fear still implies the old belief that that the dead man becomes the enemy of his survivor and seeks to carry him off to share his new life with him.

In other words, Freud points out that the line between believing and not believing is not so firm.

This was not great news for the guest in room 333 at the Langham.

I put down Freud and turned to Google. Discovered the number 333 somehow represents the Holy Trinity. Double it, and it's the number of the devil. Then there's the proposition that 3:00 a.m. is the opposite of 3:00 p.m., the miracle hour when Christ is supposed to have died, making 3:00 a.m. the demonic witching hour. And of all the minutes in that hour, 3:33 am is considered by some to be the devil's favorite time of day. Great.

Kept the lights on and watched the clock. Finally, 3:34am. Nothing. No bloodcurdling shrieks. No ghostly moans. No demonic howls. No smell of sulfur. No objects floating around. I felt disappointed. I had paid a lot for this room.

Feeling emboldened, I took a quick peek out into the corridor. Not my best idea. In the hallway was a sign:

Daniel Cubias: The Strange Bedfellows of the Census Boycott

2009-10-31T12:27:06Z

One of the wonders of modern society is how even minor controversies can snowball into intense political and sociological debates where, apparently, the future of the country hangs in the balance. Really, even Halloween costumes are enough to create verbal fisticuffs.

That's why I'm not surprised that the 2010 census has people tossing around accusations of nefarious intentions, with counter-accusations of idiocy flying back. The fear and hatred of this tedious government exercise has a long history. And with the loathing of the current administration so potent among right-wingers, it's no wonder that the tinfoil-hat crowd insists that filling out the form will somehow end up with you in a government-run gulag.

But I expected the neocons to get upset over the census. What surprised me is that some Latino groups have joined people like noted nutjob Congresswoman Michele Bachmann in calling for a boycott.

The thinking among some Hispanic organizations is that skipping the census is a great way to protest the lack of immigration reform. The Rev. Miguel Rivera, head of the National Coalition of Latino Clergy and Christian Leaders, says that his group has talked 2.5 million Hispanics into refusing to be counted. Rivera hopes that some states will lose representation in Congress due to the undercounting. He believes that, "If politicians don't see the need for immigration reform, then we don't need those politicians anyway."

I can't be the only one who sees the ineffectiveness of this take-my-ball-and-go-home approach. The census only reapportions congressional delegation. It doesn't add or eliminate anything. So I don't see how giving, say, Kansas more votes at the expense of California is going to speed up immigration reform. If anything, this strategy increases the odds of a spectacular backfire.

Then there are those who don't necessarily want to boycott the census, just alter it beyond recognition. A Republican-sponsored proposal calls for a freeze on Census Bureau funds if it doesn't reprint its forms to ask respondents if they are citizens. I, for one, can't imagine who they are targeting or attempting to intimidate with such a question.

We'll ignore the fact that the party of fiscal responsibility is demanding that the government throw away the 400 million forms that have already been printed and start over, at no small expense. Instead, let me point out that presidential administrations of both parties have repeatedly agreed to count everybody, not just citizens. It's pretty much settled law.

I'm also wondering about those conservatives who supposedly want government off our collective backs, and think it's unconstitutional for the census to ask how many bathrooms you have. But it is OK for the bureau to throw in a last-second intrusive question designed specifically to frighten people. I see; it all makes sense now.

In the interest of full disclosure, let me admit that I was once one of those dreaded Census workers (it was a temp job on my summer break from college). I spent three months going door to door in the most wretched parts of my hometown, asking bored or annoyed residents how many people lived in their crumbling shanty of an apartment.

It was a pretty miserable experience, but it paid better than fast food. At no point did I swell with pride that I was helping continue the vital work of Jefferson, Madison, Franklin, etc. Neither did I worry if I was assisting the government with its final preparations for the mass arrest of citizens. It was all rather dull.

I miss those days.

The Animal World Celebrates Halloween! (PHOTOS)

2009-10-31T12:09:54Z

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Tea Leoni: How UNICEF Became A Halloween Treat

2009-10-30T22:33:51Z

I grew up under the impression that I was the best trick-or-treater in the whole wide world, because my grandmother invented it!

Chris Weigant: Heart-Stopping Hallowe'en Horror, Left And Right

2009-10-30T18:37:35Z

Happy Samhain, everyone, if that isn't an inherent oxymoron.

For those of you who expected (and were, of course, waiting for with bated breath... what the Hell is bated breath, by the way?) Volume 100 of my weekly Friday Talking Points column, I will begin your Hallowe'en weekend by dashing your hopes on the rocks below (bartender!... another one of these... on the rocks, of course), and by telling you you're going to have to wait another week for this auspicious and historical event... because, of course... it is time for this column's annual celebration of all that is terrifying and horrible -- from both sides of the political chasm!

Because today we offer up (instead of the usual FTP drivel), a bone-shaking nightmare for those of the Left and those of the Right. Complete, of course (it wouldn't be a Hallowe'en column otherwise) with photos of my 2009 pumpkins, carved lovingly with a knife that was previously used to... well, perhaps it's best you not know that part....

[Cue: Shrieking teenager, heavy clanking of chains, and assorted eerie moans and groans...]

So, without further delay [Cue: Witch cackling], we open the crypt door to this year's installment of my attempt to scare the Hell out of everyone. As a special treat, we've also got all my pumpkins for the past few years at the end, to remind everyone of what terrified us all in Hallowe'ens past.

[Cue: Creaking hinges...]

Prologue (with apologies to Ray Bradbury, of course)

While wandering the midway at the traveling carnival which had mysteriously come to town the previous night, I became privy to a rather frightening occurrence, which I now relate to you, dear reader.

I had strolled through the carnival grounds once, and upon my return was drawn to the fortunetelling booth for what I can only describe as inexplicable reasons. The whole "Cooger & Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show" (as it was grandiosely billed) was a mixture of that return-to-childhood innocence of the end-of-summer carnivals I remembered from my youth, as well as that rather creepy "carnie" overlay which adult eyes see, but a child's eyes do not. Plus, there was a disconcerting extra layer of sinister which seemed to blanket the entire carnival, much like a fog blankets a cemetery on a moonless night.

Maybe it was just because it was Hallowe'en, that could've been it.

In any case, as I approached the fortuneteller's tent, two men appeared in front of me, a few steps before I entered. One came from the right. One from the left. They collided with each other at the opening to the tent, and blocked the entryway. After much mumbling and grumbling, they both managed to squeeze in together. Amused by this display of eagerness to hear their "fortunes" told by a "witch," I followed them through the portal with nowhere near their level of enthusiasm. What was I even doing here? I had no particular wish to hear some fantastically spun story about fame and wealth and love and happiness from some bored carnie woman. But, as I said, something drew me onward.

Inside I found a waiting area with a few dilapidated chairs. I took the only available chair, which (as it happened) was right next to the opening, affording me with the opportunity to eavesdrop. A very pale woman was exiting this opening as I sat, and Mr. Left and Mr. Right (as I had them pegged in my mind now) glared at each other for a frozen moment, before Mr. Left leapt up a fraction of a second before Mr. Right had the chance to move. Beaming triumphantly, he entered the macabre sanctum sanctorum, to be told the following tale by the woman concealed within.

Mr. Left's Terrifying Fortune

Mr. Left asked but a single question: "What does the future hold for Democrats?"

The answer was downright chilling.

"I see..." began the crone's voice, low but strong. "I see... the number 59."

She continued: "I see a very important bill before the Senate. This bill is the one that the entire Democratic Party has staked its hopes upon for the future. It looks like it has been beaten and abused to even get to this point -- like the loser of a barroom fight, being trundled into a waiting ambulance.

"I see many promises being made. I see arms being twisted. I see this process being led by a strange creature -- a jellyfish who has recently grown a spine. This grotesque creature is actually attempting to do his job for once, in fear of his own political life.

"I see a bullwhip reporting to the jellyfish. I see him confidently say '60.' I see a big arena -- a big top tent. I see a center ring. The jellyfish is now the ringleader, and he proudly calls the vote.

"I see the numbers rising... 30... 40... 50...

"But hubris has led to disaster, as one says 'nay' when asked to vote. The number stops at 59. The bill is defeated.

"Because so much time has been wasted, this is the final vote. I see a house of cards falling around the Democrats.

"And next year, I see very angry voters. I see crushing losses at the polls. I see the Democrats taking years to recover. I see the party devastated by the public's rage. I see people saying 'they can't get anything done,' and 'how big a majority do they need to pass a bill?' I see Democrats slinking away from this electoral wreckage, and hiding in dark holes for years.

"And I see death for thousands, because the bill did not pass. Death, death, as far as the mind's eye can see into the future -- death... death... and more death.

"That is your fortune, young man."

Mr. Left came out of the doorway looking like he had seen into his own grave. He shuddered once, then pulled himself together, jammed his hat on his head, and strode out of the tent.

Mr. Right, having heard none of this I am sure (he was sitting quite a distance from the doorway), eagerly jumped up to take his place. I leaned back in my chair, and heard his fortune as related as well.

Mr. Right's Terrifying Fortune

Mr. Right was just as brief in his question to the fortuneteller: "What does the future hold for Republicans?"

"I see..." the voice began again, "I see... Barack Obama signing a national health care bill."

An audible gasp, followed by a groan, was Mr. Right's reaction. The crone continued.

"I see the Democrats passing their bill just before Christmas. I see the public joyful at this Yuletide present. I see the media finally giving Barack Obama some credit.

"I see Republicans weeping and wailing and gnashing their teeth. I see them scream and howl. I see them shriek and gibber. And I am not alone in this -- the public sees it too. This cements in the public mind forevermore the fact that Republicans were against this plan, and that it came about solely from the Democrats.

"I see an opt out option in the final plan. This becomes a lethal trap for the Republican Party. I see this battle being joined at the state level for years to come. I see states opting out in the Deep South, and the upper Mountain West. I see the Plains states and the purple states being more cautious, and adopting a wait-and-see approach.

"I see the residents of the states who have opted out start to become dissatisfied with their state lawmakers for denying them something other Americans have. I see a grassroots movement to kick these state-level Republicans out of office. I see Democrats taking some state legislatures they haven't held in a century.

"But that is not the worst of it for Republicans... oh, no.

"Because in some of these states, I see Republicans splitting in two. I see a great cleft opening -- wider by the second -- between two factions. On one side of this schism, I see frothing at the mouth. I see teabags being worshipped. I see a presidential nominee in lipstick from the far north, you betcha. On the other side of this split I see people begging for change and moderation within the party. But the Pure Republicans on the other side will have none of it. The Big Tent Republicans announce they are for small government and less taxes, but that they simply don't care what people do in their bedrooms or churches. I see the Big Tenters tossing intolerance over the side of their ship, in a desperate effort to stay afloat in modern times. I see the Purists tossing the Big Tenters over the side in response.

"This party divided cannot stand. I see the Purists renaming themselves 'Know Nothings,' and having an absolutely grand time losing election after election, until they are reduced to winning local elections for dogcatcher. I see them smug in their purity, but I also see that same purity guaranteeing their demise on the national scene. Eventually, after suffering rejection after rejection at the polls, the party dissolves due to internal conflicts over purity. The various factions, all demanding purity on their single issues, will wind up tearing the party apart like an unbalanced carousel, spinning wildly out of control. The issue which finally destroys the party is..."

A cackling laugh erupted at this moment, which had the effect of freezing my blood.

"... whether to burn witches at the stake, or merely to humanely execute them. How's that for some Hallowe'en irony, Sonny Boy?

"The Big Tent moderates will cling to the label of 'Republican,' but it will soon become apparent that their tent is shrinking daily, not getting any bigger. The Democrats, riding high on the wave of public approval for the health insurance reform, waltz into office for the next generation to come. Next year, they shock political pundits by picking up 52 seats in the House and nine more seats in the Senate. Together with taking over state governorships and legislatures, this gives the Democrats absolute domination over the levers of government for the next twenty years.

"And, Dearie, one last thing before you go.

"I see the Twenty-Second Amendment being repealed by popular demand. I see Barack Obama serving four terms as President, and going down in history as second only in popularity to Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

"That is your future."

Mr. Right appeared in the doorway looking even worse than Mr. Left, put his hat on his head with a trembling hand, and exited, still dazed.

"It's your turn," said the voice from the darkness and gloom in the next room.

"Sorry... I've changed my mind..." I responded, rising, and putting my own hat back on my head.

"Don't you want to know what the future holds, young man?" the voice cajoled.

I couldn't resist. "You're a fraud -- you just told those two exactly opposite stories. Both can't be true."

"Maybe not in one world's timeline, but rest assured, both of those men will live out the nightmare which awaits them. They may not see it in the same world as you or I; who may live one of those time tracks or the other. The future is a powerful force, about which you know nothing."

"You're right," I agreed, "And I don't want to know another thing about it."

The flap of the door closed behind me as I exited. I hurried away from the tent, from the midway, and from the creepy carnival, which disappeared into the mist gathering behind my footsteps. A wind blew up on my way home, and for a moment I thought I heard a witch's cackling... thin and dry... like dust borne on that wind.

But then it was gone and I was alone, facing the future in the only way I knew how.

-- Chris Weigant

A Trip Down "We've Eaten Your Brains, Now We Know All Your Memories" Lane

[These are my political Jack O'Lanterns from years past, just for the Hell of it. Click on each to see a larger image. And Happy Hallowe'en to all!]

2008 -- I can see Frightening Things from my porch!

2006 -- Ohio-tastically O-horrifying!

2004 -- The Hideous Spectre of the Hanging Chad!

Chris Weigant blogs at: ChrisWeigant.com

Cross-posted at Democratic Underground

Kelly Ripa As Lady Gaga: Halloween 2009 (VIDEO)

2009-10-30T15:40:06Z

Kelly Ripa did her best rendition of Lady Gaga, costume and all, on a special Halloween edition of Live with Regis and Kelly today.

Also in the Halloween spirit on this Oct. 30 was The Today Show, which had its cast dress up as Star Wars characters.

SEE KELLY RIPA AS LADY GAGA IN TODAY'S SHOW:

Regis & Kelly Halloween 2009: See All The Costumes (PHOTOS)

2009-10-30T15:24:20Z

"Regis and Kelly" have become famous for their elaborate Halloween ensembles. This year they did not disappoint, dressing up as various reality TV stars in their "Reality Bites Halloween Special."

See their costumes - and vote on your favorites - below:

Halloween Hits Washington: How Politicos And Their Kids And Pets Party (PHOTOS, POLL)

2009-10-30T15:16:33Z

Halloween can be a real hoot when you're in the public eye, so how do politicos like to celebrate? With dramatic costumes, trick-or-treaters, masks of their own faces and dressed-up pets, that's how! We've assembled the spookiest photos of the season from Al and Tipper Gore dressed as Beauty and the Beast to Sasha Obama collecting candy on the campaign trail. Take a look and let us know who you'd like to party with.

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