All Hallow's Eve

Halloween just came and went. Guised as a pirate, I flitted about a haunted house, high on Curaleaf sundries. The catering was world class, and free to paid guests. One perk of donning demeaning costumes for work is how easily I pass for a paid guest when standing in buffet lines.

The glistening sexpot working the door was "dressed" as a human-peahen hybrid in heat Brazilian Samba dancer. She wound up winning "Best Costume," in the "Least Costume" category. Her thong was skimpier in the front! Picture Joe Camel's foot crammed into a beach sandal.

Some costumes transcend time, like bearded beefcakes dressed as cut-rate call girls. Those of us over 40 refer to the ensemble as, "Sin City streetwalker, circa 1984," or "David Lee Roth stage duds, circa 1984." If a man's going to don drag as a goof, he should have to wear a "NOT FOR HIRE" sign like a bus en route back to base. See, I become my roles, and, that night, I'd become a pirate who'd just "spent months at sea." As one would expect, I'd set my bar at "Any port in a storm," before setting out in search of a sex partner.

Legend holds that Columbus was the first Old World sailor to mistake a manatee for a mermaid. Now, if you're capable of thinking critically, you just heard, "Columbus was the first sailor caught coupling with a manatee." Christopher Columbus was born in Genoa; he'd sailed upon the Mediterranean before he'd lost his last milk tooth. He would have been well versed in shallow-water marine life, particularly those that abound from Africa to India to our Eastern Seaboard. Lastly, of ALL the beasts he could have confused for comely maidens, Columbus just happened to have mistaken slow-moving sea cows, what were the odds?! I don't care how dark it was, or how much grog he drank, a lifelong sailor holding the rank of captain would not have conflated Marjorie Taylor Greene for Anya Taylor-Joy.