In an October tradition, every year I take over a table in the house and claim it as the “Halloween Mood Table.” It’s kind of like a Halloween version of a Christmas tree, if said tree was a table. The ornaments are anything and everything that’s related to Halloween. Candy, cardboard cut-outs, random scary movie DVD cases, Halloween Happy Meal Toys from 1988—whatever goes, goes. Clutter that shit up.
I’ve reviewed my Halloween Mood Table a few times in past years. Here is last year’s Mood Table with a more in-depth look at just what the table means and how I went about doing it.
This year’s table is basically the same, but with a few new additions to the clutter. Check out these amazing Universal Monsters candles I found at Walgreens:
There was a bucket of these candles that was totally lost in the cluttered and in-shambles Halloween aisle of Walgreens. You wouldn’t even see this bucket without a little digging, and even then, you might not even bother to examine closer whatever the hard, waxy, crusting things in there were.
But of course I did. Waxy, crusting things are my specialty.
I discovered they were actually pretty sweet candles. They had the full line-up of them including Dracula, the Mummy, and the Bride of Frankenstein, but I chose these three guys because they were the best-looking. And by the Wolf Man, I mean worst-looking. But to know him is to love him.
Look at the level of detail on these things. They’re like miniature busts of art. All of that beauty in a crappy, thirty-cent pharmacy store novelty. To me, that’s the true meaning of Halloween. Alright, and the other true meaning is fun-sized chocolate bars.
And again, here’s another example of the true meaning of Halloween: EYEBALL DOOR MAT.
This thing is awesome. I got it for a dollar at the Dollar Tree, but it’s clearly worth its weight in eyeballs. I’m not going to use it as a door mat. It’s too stunning to ever be sullied with the dirt of filthy little trick-or-treaters’ feet. Nope, this thing is meant to be propped up for admiration and reverence.
This thing is the kneeling mat to worship at the shrine of Halloween. I’d totally do that too, but I’m afraid I might summon Satan into my house or something. Not that I believe in that stuff, but I’ve seen enough movies to know better.
Finally, here’s a couple pieces of McDonald’s ephemera. McDonald’s used to have their finger on the pulse of Halloween. They had the McBoo pails, Happy Meal toys, sound effects tapes, and those awesome trick-or-treat coupons. They were books filled with coupons for free fries and ice cream cones, and you could hand out the individual coupons to trick-or-treaters.
The books still exist, but now they have coupons for free jugs of milk and bags of apple slices. I’m down with the whole health thing, but I can’t imagine the soul-crushing disappointment for a kid to get a coupon for A MILK JUG in their treat sack. That’s worse than Charlie Brown’s rock. That’s worse than the time I found a weird handful of gunky pennies at the bottom of mine. Actually, nothing is worse that that. Traumatized for life.
Which brings me to the third and perhaps most important meaning of Halloween: that trauma for life. Whether it was that sketchy treat, an embarrassing costume, or the year it rained — something did it for you. But at least it toughened you up. And gave you something to complain about for the rest of your life. And isn’t that the sort of camaraderie-building thing we all need in life?
Crappy candles, eyeball mats, and camaraderie. Man, I love this holiday.