Halloween is the New Christmas: Good grief. I'm sorry, but it's really gotten out of hand.

It starts with a hyperthyroidal fruit; gutted, and carved to resemble a disembodied head. We do this for the sake of entertaining the children, then we're shocked when the teacher wants to know why little Billy keeps saying, "It puts the lotion in the basket."

Then there are the witches with long noses and warts and cackling laughs, and zombies with deformed faces and eerie speech impediments, all designed to scare us silly. Let's see, Rosie O'Donnell, Howard Stern, Ozzy Osbourne, Michael Moore, Anna Nicole and Dennis Franz's butt have all gotten air time in the past few years. You do the math.

Next, we are subjected to a thirteen hour marathon of Friday the 13th movies, where we witness minor horrors such as graphic depictions of beheadings, to major horrors such as dialog like "Jason is out there. This isn't a game. You'll be sorry you didn't listen to me." Ya think?

The costumes are intended pay homage to demons and terrifying creatures of the underworld, which apparently would place Spiderman and the Powerpuff Girls as minions of the Dark Lord. OK fine, if little kids want to dress up that's OK, but it's not OK for adults at work. I just can't get comfortable with my pasta marinara being served by a waitress with a fake axe embedded in her head. (Aside: Best costume I ever saw was worn by a guy I lived with in the dorm who went to a party in preppy clothes with a small bullseye drawn on his forehead. It was a JFK costume. One sick, sick puppy. Cracks me up to this day.)

And just like Christmas, it's excruciatingly drawn out for weeks before hand so we can drown in cheesy decorations, excessive refined sugar, and tedious TV reruns.

There's only one good strategy for dealing with Halloween. Barricade yourself in your home and turn off all the lights and cower like a camp counselor hiding from Jason and hope the trick-or-treaters don't notice you.