Today is Halloween (in case you didn’t know) and all around the United States, in areas that aren’t surrounded by that Christian hippie shit, children are getting delicious candy treats as they walk door to door. Halloween is awesome because it’s the only holiday where you can walk door to door and the people inside are actually obligated to give you free shit.
My childhood is full of fond Halloween memories, as long as I don’t think of the years my mother made me dress up as a dalmatian, or a piece of pizza, or an Indian chief… nevermind. Halloween always fucking sucked. No matter how bad ass I thought my costume was (dalmatian costume excluded) someone always had a better one. And the neighborhood I live in was really into giving out apples, and granola bars, and shitty stuff like that.
Nothing, however, made less sense to me on Halloween than the “fun size” candy bar. The smallest damn candy bar on the planet is supposed to be fun for children. Children who love to eat sugary shit and destroy their teeth and get a sugar high and then jump on the furniture at mommy and daddy’s “big people party” are somehow to just have a blast eating a candy bar that’s no bigger than their thumb. Fuck you!
For certain things, smaller is actually more fun. Small sports cars are fun, midgets are funny to watch (especially at a public swimming pool), a small parking ticket fee is better than a big one…. but when it comes to penises and candy bars, bigger is better. Trust me… whoever did the marketing tests on the term “fun size” didn’t try it out on drunken (correction: just a little buzzed) cheerleaders.
So on this Halloween night, when adults all over try to force children into anorexia with a smile on their face, you think of that. And next year you go out and you buy a big fuckin’ candy bar for each and every kid.
