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A Series of Articles About Halloween and Ghosts and Ghouls

A Series of Articles About Halloween and Ghosts and Ghouls

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This is a series of Halloween articles present and past to scare you silly.
This is a series of Halloween articles present and past to scare you silly.

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Published by: howard Hector Martell Jr on Sep 29, 2013
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A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls

Preface / Introduction
A series of articles on Halloween past and present Ghosts and ghouls. Feel free to comment: "FREE consultation ($150 value). Expert shows you how to make money online.Call (757-962-2482) 24/7 Or Skype me homeprofitcoach NOW! Profit today!" Your success guaranteed. I'm waiting for your call RIGHT NOW! sign up for the free EBook on list building prior to contacting me!. http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com/?rd=kr2fDPDb

Table of Contents
1. Of pumpkins planted, grown, carved, smashed and remembered. 2. Trick or Treat. Halloween in the great American heartland, way too much candy, costumes from Woolworth's, and ghouls from the best families... 3. Of pumpkins, enormous, callipygian, stupifying, all absorbing. 4. All Hallow's Eve, October 31, 2012 with II Commendatore, the headless body of Ichabod Crane, still hopeful pathetic Linus van Pelt, and a Great Pumpkin you will never see and one you will. You're invited... formal dress and all decorations to be worn...

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls

Of pumpkins planted, grown, carved, smashed and remembered.
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author's program note. It is October time around America and that means the ubiquitous appearance of pumpkins. They are everywhere these days... small ones up Massachusetts Avenue at the Montrose Spa where Tommy, el jefe, has at last shaved what was striving to become a beard; we are all relieved, since it didn't suit him. You can get bigger ones up at Shaw Market in Porter Square. But for the big ones, the really good ones, the ones with heft (the best ones for carving), you need to go out to Lexington and Concord, the towns of the Revolution; they always look particularly spruce and tidy this time of year... and the pumpkins do their bit to create the right effect. I shall no doubt ask my driver Aime Joseph to drive me out for the afternoon. We shall stop at any number of road side stands along the way and I shall, such is my habit, over buy and make a valiant effort (some times successful) to eat all before anything spoils. I have learned to give away the extra before that happens. Much to write, but pumpkins first. This season of the year is rich in subjects for articles... but before I can write these, I must tackle the pumpkins. They have, after all, always been a part of my life, and it would be rude to ignore these old friends... ... but first, let's designate the incidental music for this article. It's the tune "Today" by a group which called themselves "The Smashing Pumpkins" (formed 1988). I selected them for several reasons. Because they are Illinois folks, as I am, and sometimes you must boost the locals just because they are proximate. I have also selected them because, like all the pumpkins of years past, they no longer exist. It isn't just that they fought and argued amongst themselves; that's the way of these nomadic groups. I think it's because they weren't good enough... and therefore estrangement made more sense than counseling and hard work. There is one more reason, too, and that, of course, is their name. It is a name more appropriate than most selected by such groups which think that the anti-social heights to which they all aspire can be scaled by purple hair, black lipstick, a paucity of bathing and a maximum of little pills of various sizes, shapes, colors and intensities... ... but in truth these boys and girls are often charming and well spoken when you meet them. And why not? Contrary to the impression they wish to leave, they are, after all, often the product of middle class homes and middle class parents who wonder what they did that lead to what their off spring are doing, these young folks, I say, know nothing about radical behavior, much less the whys and wherefores of revolution. And as for "smashing pumpkins", that was always a factor in the life of pumpkins, long before this evanescent group selected the nom de guerre they found so cool. I have selected their tune "Today" ( released 1993) for this article. Go now to any search engine, find it and listen. It's a pity there's absolutely no poetry in the lyrics, but the pain of its author is evident and makes the listener want to say that "this too shall pass" and provide some comfort and hot chocolate, not, perhaps, the response any revolutionary would like... but they'll take it and say polite thanks, for they have manners, though they are loath to admit it. Pumpkins planted, grown, and considered. http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com Copyright Howard Martell - 2013 4 of 16

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls While researching this article, I discovered that Illinois is one of the top pumpkin producing states in the union. I'm not surprised. When I planted my first garden in the 50's in the good earth of the prairies, the first seeds I planted were pumpkin seeds. They would have come in a small packet from the local gardening center and, being me, I would have followed the directions on the back religiously, brooking no opposition from more experienced folks who aimed to help; it said do "X", and "X" I would do. That would have meant working with a ruler... each seed so many inches in the earth. This was the earth never turned by man before in its millions of years. I was the first, the very first, to put my shovel into its richness, thereby putting it at the service of mankind. The garden was small but the idea was not. Thus, I considered each seed and its placement, so many inches from the next; each direction followed with care and exactitude, for I respected the seed and wished to do it homage, so that my crop of pumpkins would grow and be a credit to itself.... and to me. It was all very reminiscent of Robert Frost, who respected nature and knew the hard -- and rewarding -- work of gardens. He wrote a poem in 1916 about a person I could identify with. It is called "A Girl's Garden." "A neighbor of mine in the village Likes to tell how one spring When she was a girl on the farm, she did A childlike thing. One day she asked her father To give her a garden plot To plant and tend and reap herself, And he said, 'Why not?'" Every word in this poem spoke to me... She planted many things, as in due course I was to do. And we both planted -- how could we not? -pumpkins. "It was not enough of a garden Her father said, to plow; So she had to work it all by hand, But she didn't mind now... Her crop was a miscellany When all was said and done, A little bit of everything, A great deal of none." But there were pumpkins... a glory to me because they grew at all; a glory to see because they looked like they were supposed to. I had kept the seed packet... and made sure. However, the important thing was this: I had taken the unturned sod of the immemorial prairies, turned it in the first days of springtime when all was mud and when the winds of Winter still chilled... I had done this thing and brought forth life! And pumpkins, of the genus Cucurbia pepo. The day I cut them from the withered vine was a day of proud significance... and gifts of what I'd grown to the lucky ones. "The Smashing Pumpkins" must have known such a day. In "Today" they sang it out, thus "Today is the greatest Day I've ever known Can't wait for tomorrow...." I told you they had no poetry about them. Perhaps growing, rather than smashing, pumpkins would have helped. It worked for me... and no one ever smashed one of mine. A Dedication. This article is dedicated to Elizabeth English of Hastings, New York, whom I call "Miss Eliza." She will read it with pleasure and give, I know, a compliment to its appreciative author.

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A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls

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A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls

Trick or Treat. Halloween in the great American heartland, way too much candy, costumes from Woolworth's, and ghouls from the best families...
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author's program note. It seems to me that far too little attention has been directed to the creation of music suitable for Halloween. You can think of classic tunes for Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year's Eve... but Halloween? You will be hard pressed. That is why in considering a suitable song for today's much watered down version of its medieval predecessors... when the business at hand was dealing with things like the unhallowed dead and their piercing screams as they burnt in the fires of Hell... or something like that. That is why for something suitably affecting (which means capable of getting your flesh to crawl and have nightmares for weeks), we need to access the far bigger archive of music made for the horror films we pay good money to scare us witless. There are many fine tunes here, but I'm going with the theme music for one of the all-time scariest films... Director George Romero's 1968 masterpiece "Night of the Living Dead." Being of a susceptible nature myself, I can assure you... this grand daddy of horror films will scare you to death which is, I know, just what you want. Find it in any search engine. Listen to the music alone in a big empty house one night when the wind is howling outside and anything could happen... especially if you happen to be dead... and unburied. An out house and Aunt Doris Jean Perhaps my first memory of Halloween is a story that I can laugh about a good 75 years after it happened. My father was a "good boy" from a "good family" and so he got away if not with murder, as least man slaughter. Anyway, one Halloween my father and his buddies got the suave idea of picking up the out house when someone was within and.... you get the picture. The entree and egress of relatives and friends was carefully noted and victim selected: my father's younger sister Doris Jean who was of a noticeable plumpness and a shy disposition. In due course she was left alone in the night air.. suitably pranked... while the laughter of the boys skimmed along the wind like pucas. It was midden mayhem and makes us all smile unless you're a teen-age girl in the icky stage or a 14 year-old boy... and then you'll think this the funniest thing you've ever heard. This set the tone for all future Halloweens, more I regret to report in the telling than in the doing. Pranks I have long felt an avowed contempt for the neighborhood children who, all unknowing, let down the side on the matter of "trick or treat." Not one child in a thousand stops to think (or even cares) that they are the current repositories of an age-old tradition, a tradition where the house holder got to throw down his answer to the question of the hour: "trick or treat?" Here are the facts: The children would knock on the door. The house holder, sometimes dressed for the occasion, especially if they were having a Halloween party, would answer and look astonished at the motley crew of pirates and princesses, pretending not to know a single one. This crew would then scream the choices in high pitched voice and glee, defying the answering authority to make his choice... to either be fleeced by the little monsters at his door there and then... or suffer their judicious mischief later. The flood of cheap candy ensured that canny house holders would get off lightly. It was sensible to just pay up in high sugar booty. As for other tried and true pranks to the deserving, these included soaping windows (always with Ivory soap since it was the most difficult to remove and could do real damage), limburger cheese in the car manifold (guaranteed stench for weeks or even longer), revolting things in sure-find places I http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com Copyright Howard Martell - 2013 7 of 16

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls the car manifold (guaranteed stench for weeks or even longer), revolting things in sure-find places I once froze a snake and put it in the freezer where my mother was sure to find it. Before she closed the door on her hasty conference with my father, I heard these words indicating this operation was a complete success, "Don, we've got to do something about Jeffrey..." There were still more certified pranks... just mischief you understand... including the lavish use of toilet paper in unusual (and difficult to remove) places... and my personal piece de resistance: the evening I worked long and hard when my brother Kevin was sleeping to create a massive spider web in which he was positioned in the center as dinner. How I managed to do this without waking him remains a mystery even to me. His screams when he awoke and saw those red eyes starring at him resonate in my mind... and with total satisfaction since this was the accomplished work of a master. The matter of costumes. As every cinema star knows, the importance of having just the right clothes is absolutely vital. That's what made a dress genius like Edith Head so valuable to the studios... she could turn a sow's ear into a silk purse... but the problem is we had no such genius at hand in Downers Grove, Illinois circa 1955. Just plenty of sows' ears. Thus, there were just two choices: buy or make do with whatever you had, an odd assortment of old clothes and the even then well worn costumes of past years. What was that red stain on the ghost costume? Blood? Lipstick? Difficult to tell. If you had a costume in mind (as many kids did) you were advised by mom to check the old stuff first. Smart parents counted pennies. But you ranted, railed and threw carefully calibrated tantrums to get what you wanted: something new that would command the eye and admiration of all. Your pleadings, screamings, and artful displays of pique and pertinacity have won you the right to looking for something new and wonderful... not like the abashing hand-me-downs and that "old clothes" look that's so distressing. And thus came the visits to the only two establishments in town that could assist, Mackey's General Store and Woolworth's. It's hard to impart for the new generation of online buyers what a big deal it was to go searching for just the right costume. Shopping online gives you far greater choice, efficiency, comfort and speed... but it lacks the essential mystique so necessary in selecting a costume, for well under $5, tax included. But at last you did find the costume you so wanted,but whose very mention in later years will make you red with embarrassment when the inevitable photos are dragged out. Now it's time for grannie... and the loot. The first place we went after getting ready was always my mother's mother, Victoria Lauing. She knew just how to play Halloween, as she knew how to play so much else. She made a point of pretending she didn't know you until the masks came off and the "It's you!" comments came. Masterful. And she made sure we were well stocked up on her famous popcorn balls, made only at Halloween and with Karo corn syrup; their secret went to the grave with her. But that was no concern of anyone in costume. We had a treasure trove to find and gather, the better to induce stomach cramps and ruin our appetites for months. Suffice it to say, we perfected our "trick or treat" strategies until they produced unseemly bumper crops. But before we were allowed to sample a single morsel (and here our rules of operation were exacting), mother spread a clean sheet on the floor and poured our finds on it, my brother and I keeping a sharp watch so that neither got an extra chocolate bar, the certain property of the other. Infractions were frequent. Then my mother did what made her such a good mother. She scrutinized everything with practised, skeptical eye... and was ruthless in discarding. One year, one of our neighbors was giving out old comic books and copies of "Mad Magazine," and Kevin and I both got several... which she promptly http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com Copyright Howard Martell - 2013 8 of 16

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls threw in the fire and stirred them into the flame. Such trash, however funny, had no place in her house, or our lives. It is because of her protective love of literacy, words, and language that I am a professional writer today with millions of readers worldwide. That why I'd like nothing more than the chance to visit this Halloween with my ghosts, grandmother and mother both, popcorn balls for all... a very different night of the living dead...

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Of pumpkins, enormous, callipygian, stupifying, all absorbing.
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant. Author's program note. It is exactly 2 a.m. It is as dark as it ever gets in Cambridge and that is very dark indeed. The air is chill and so thick with the promise of rain that I feel sure I could squeeze water from it like a wet towel. But I cannot take time for that now; I have an important matter to consider; the matter of pumpkins, for yesterday was the first day pumpkins were available at the Farmer's Market. I gave them a look that was too brief, inadequate, cursory; some pumpkin advocates would even say insulting, but the plain fact was I was in hot pursuit of pumpkin muffins. The proprietor of the bakery stand never has too many (though I have on divers occasions urged them, and sharply too, to prepare greater numbers). They neither hear nor heed. Thus when this morning I presented myself just moments after the 10 a.m. opening bell, there were just two left! I took both, no hesitancy; for he who hesitates in the face of such paucity, such flavor is lost, muffinless, chagrined. However, as the crumbs on this satisfied face could confirm, I was not that poor soul, at least this week. Pumpkins had done their work well, again, and I was content, ready to tell you a story of fanaticism, obsession, the delirium of total victory... and of the despair that torments every living second of every single day; the despair of losing, acknowledging another your undeniable superior You will see -- right here -- good people do wicked things; you will see the meek and mild turned into card-carrying intemperates determined to do you a mischief... just as you are determined to do one to them. You will see once amiable neighbors turned into spies, conspirators, stealthy commandos wrecking havoc in ordered patches where great pumpkins grow, the greatest pumpkins on Earth. Not for sissies. Welcome to the world of giant pumpkins, where the matter is urgent, demanding, and where sissies are never welcome. It is here that champions are forged, champions who live, sleep, breathe pumpkins and whose dreams always feature the greatest of pumpkins, the ones that make you proud and your competitors despair. Yes, these are the sweetest dreams of all, not least because you can make them real. Not for eating, not for carving, not for decorating, just for weighing. Every year in the waning days of September and the waxing days of October, a group of fanatics prepares for the difficult, grueling day ahead, Weighing Day. They ready themselves mentally... walking out into the crisp early morning air, a moment at once poetic, lyric and apprehensive. The great Midwestern poet James Whitcomb Riley (1853-1916) knew this moment which he rendered thus in his beloved poem "When the Frost is on the punkin": "When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best..." You know this feeling. You are feeling it now, now as you undertake each and every task that cumulatively turn you from one of life's unsung pedestrians into awe, wonder, high jubilation and the stuff of legend. You know that treating pumpkins right can take you to this place of profound http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com Copyright Howard Martell - 2013 10 of 16

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls satisfaction. And so... You check the pumpkin one last time to make sure its umbilical chord still is doing its essential task. Check the weight one last time. It is bigger than the last time you checked, for giant pumpkins add 1-2 pounds per hour, growing greater and greater right before your eyes. Now you stand before this giant of its kind, the joint creation of God and you, and before you snip it lose from the only home it has ever known, you pause and consider the matter of how from a single seed lighter than a feather this great thing took root, grew, and grew more, now ready to meet its fate, dazzle or disappoint. How had it all happened? The necessary steps for producing giant pumpkins. Do you wish to be great? Then you must know and accomplish the necessary steps. 1) Test the soil. Collect a sample of the soil you wish to use. Have it carefully tested to see what nutrients are currently in the soil and what nutrients need to be added. Then select a fertilizer with the correct amounts of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium to counter deficiencies in the soil. 2) Select proper seeds for planting. Giant pumpkins beget giant pumpkin seeds which then produce giant pumpkins. Purchase seeds from a farmer who raised giant competition pumpkins. Expect to pay up to $50 per seed. 3) Begin the germination process within. Plant your seeds towards the end of April on wet paper towels or in peat pots. 4) Look for the seeds that sprouted the fastest. These will be the strongest growers. Sprouting begins 4-7 days from planting. 5) Transplant your sprouting seeds to the ground as soon as the first leaves appear. Each seed will need approximately 2,500 square feet of space for vine growth. 6) Pollinate the pumpkin blossoms by hand. 7) Identify the male and female plants. The female has a small pumpkin at the base and no pollen inside the flower. The stamen will be covered in pollen. In July, pull the petal from the male blossom and expose the pollen. Rub the pollen stamen on the blossom of the female. You're Cupid's little helper. 8) Pick your prize pumpkin. You must select your best shot and eliminate all competition. 9) Prune your vines to the proper length for growth. The main vines should be about 10 to 15 feet from the fruit. 10) Use a potassium fertilizer beginning in late July. 11) Measure your pumpkin's circumference each week. http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com Copyright Howard Martell - 2013 11 of 16

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls 12) Track down fellow giant pumpkin growers on the 'net, groups with names like "Rhode Island mafia" and the "New Hampshire secret-keepers." The sharing of essential growing details online is one key reason that winning giant pumpkins have grown from 1000 pounds in 2000 to 2000+ pounds today. The other reason is a guy named Ron Wallace, Mr. Giant Pumpkin whose pumpkin set the world record at the Topsfield Fair September 28, 2012. People use lots of adjectives to describe Wallace, words like fanatic, zealot, rude, abrupt, secretive, bombastic, self-glorifying... but absolutely no one doubts he's anything but all giant pumpkin all the time. There has probably never been in human history anyone closer to pumpkins than Wallace, certainly no one who knows more how to turn the prosaic into the awesome. It's his metier. To beat the record, you must beat Ron Wallace, who constantly strives to outdo himself. Thus, go to any search engine. Find Michael Jackson's 1982 gangbuster "Beat It". Turn it on, turn it up and remember: "You're playin' with your life, this ain't no truth or dare." Ron Wallace is in to the death. You must be, too.

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All Hallow's Eve, October 31, 2012 with II Commendatore, the headless body of Ichabod Crane, still hopeful pathetic Linus van Pelt, and a Great Pumpkin you will never see and one you will. You're invited... formal dress and all decorations to be worn...
by Dr. Jeffrey Lant Author's program note. Leave it to Mozart, thrilling Mozart, sublime Mozart to produce the most evocative music for the multi-aspect event we call Halloween. It is, of course, from "Don Giovanni" (premiered in Prague, 29 October 1787). I am talking of Il Commendatore's adamant call to Don Giovanni, his summons to Hades and his eternal roasting in the exquisite fires of the damned where a man finally learns, and learns at once and forever, that each of us prepares his own place of perdition and torment... which is why we know and understand its every nuance so well... for it is a place only to be found in the unhallowed depths of our imagination, a place where fear lives, seizes and torments us... Go now to any search engine where you'll find the dawning awareness of one doomed soul, the once dashing and heedless Don, who only at the last and far too late understands the consequences of the evil he has wrought. When you select the version you like best, turn up its volume until the very foundation of your abode shakes. Then I shall be glad to receive you, honored guest, at this my little soiree with only the creme de la creme of this baleful season. I've been waiting for you... and now at last you are here... en route to eternity... and the fate you have selected for yourself and honed to unbearable perfection... The unseen barrier between the sweetness of life and the thrall of death lifts... and All Hallow's Eve ushers in what we fear most... the return of our once loved and honored dead... now amongst us again... reeking figures of disgust and horror... withered arms outreaching to drag you into fearsome oblivion with them. Well might good people cross themselves with fervor and implore, "Jesu', now and in the hour of my death", seeking thereby to make too late amends for all that has gone before. Such mad hope is the greatest self deception of all and so great grinning fate grins greater still, at you, your hopeful antics and gyrations, arduous, strenuous, belated, pitiful. The veil lifts... Our pagan ancestors knew this: the line between the life we embrace and the death that steals everything we value is an unbridgeable chasm, shut tight 364 days but on October 31, at the feast of Samhain (pronounced sow-in) it lifts to reveal every horrid thing we ever suspected, heralded by noxious brimstone which once smelled we can never efface, no matter how many sweet posies we try. Death once smelled is always with us... the dead who venture forth All Hallow's Eve ensure that... and so we loathe their approach and presence, huddling close to other chary travelers who this night above all nights crave the touch and warmth of the flesh that will, and far too soon, be putrid, noisome and foul. Oh, yes, we need others of our kind this grim night most of all... and the balm of forgetfulness, if only for the stages of this night of horror and dread apprehension now fully upon us. "Well-known New York socialite found dead in the street, HEADLESS." Let me introduce you to author Washington Irving's friend Ichabod Crane. You'll recall his http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com Copyright Howard Martell - 2013 13 of 16

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls Let me introduce you to author Washington Irving's friend Ichabod Crane. You'll recall his celebrated 1820 report on the matter, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow". Please don't comment on his headless state; he's sensitive about it. After all, he was, in life, vain about his comely face and even features, and it distresses him that he has them no longer; the pumpkin you see in its place, while bravura of its kind and exquisitely carved, is not, after all, the beautiful visage God gave him, as poor Mr. Crane will surely tell you, for in truth he has nowadays no other subject of conversation. "Ah, Ichabod, would you favor us..." And Ichabod does, with every lurid detail at his finger tips. How he was the most fervent of party animals, gracing every social event for miles around. How he used his silver tongue and insinuating manners to fashion the very best of lives (including free room and board from those beguiled by such a paragon and man of bon ton). How he came to know and love (as much as such an acolyte of Narcissus can ever love another) Miss Katrina Van Tassel, something of an heiress with fertile acres and the promise of tasty hot meals for life her appealing dowry... getting her to love him and promise him those acres and those tasty meals was child's play for such a man... and, besides, he may even have loved her, at least as he understood love. Thus promises, pledges, and florid declarations were made, made again, and savored, along, you may suppose, with the trinkets and keep-sakes so much treasured in the giving and the getting. "Pray continue, dear Ichabod, for my guests must leave before..." And so Ichabod continues his painful narration. Of how he believed one and every myth, legend, tall tale and prophesy. And of how one dark October night, yes, this very time of the year, Ichabod Crane, so near his goal, encountered on his road home a traveler who reveals that he is the ghost of a Hessian soldier who was decapitated by a cannon ball in the American Revolution. He, too, has a goal: would Ichabod provide his head, for his own was much worn, its features degraded, gruesome, and oozing? And so commenced the epic chase of Sleepy Hollow... the chase Ichabod Crane thought he'd won, when he crossed the bridge which meant safety. But the horseman threw his own severed head at Crane with diabolical skill. Next day Ichabod was gone, only his hat and a pumpkin remained. Abraham "Brom Bones" van Brunt was questioned, but said nothing, then or ever. "He married Katrina, didn't he?" And so Ichabod Crane finished, as all sinners finish; blaming others, claiming a state of grace, pleading for understanding, empathy, and above all for absolution, adamant that they were innocent, always innocent, wrongly caught in the cycles of eternal damnation. Resolute, committed, determined, pathetic. Linus van Pelt. "Ah Linus, I didn't expect you this year what with your great matter, the Great Pumpkin." "I came to see if Mr. Schulz allows me to see the Great Pumpkin at last, after waiting so long, since October 27, 1966." But he knew better. Charles Schulz in life (1922-2000) insisted that the Great Pumpkin would never come, would remain invisible, allowed no sight, sound, apparition or clue; that poor Linus, alone in the night air, armed with only thumb, blanket and a child's unshakable faith, would so confront the ages. So decreed his creator, who is now (if there is any justice) a pre-school teacher in Hell in a school for toddlers with excessive lobar capacity and preternatural skills for bugging adults. He would have come to my little event, but Linus tells me he's been super-glued to a particularly uncomfortable chair whilst screaming tots record every colorful expletive and imprecation he ever knew and continuously uses; texting each and every profanity to every school board in the land along with the pieces of his latest cartoon strip, pieces so ill assorted they can never be put properly together. Delicious. Poor Mr. Schulz! Despite the fact that he made up to $40 million a year, everything, every single http://www.HomeProfitCoach.com Copyright Howard Martell - 2013 14 of 16

A series of Articles about Halloween and ghosts and ghouls thing made him nervous... and so he is probably fretting right this minute about what those kids are doing to him. And if the kids were this instant taken off Pester Patrol, he'd worry about that too, wondering what it meant. You can surely see the hand of Old Scratch in all this. "You can't create humor out of happiness," Schulz once said. Now he's got enough unhappiness for "Peanuts" strips forever. The last guest to arrive. All those participating in the All Hallow's festivities can leave Hades any time October 31 to commence their grisly rounds. However each must return by the final stroke, the 12th stroke, of the clock at midnight. Otherwise, they are assigned some degrading, demeaning or derisory task, to perform until Hades opens again to call them "home". "Ah, it's Mr. Ron Wallace, isn't it, whose pumpkin at the Topsfield Fair has just become the biggest in history, about 2000 pounds, isn't it?" "Yes, sir, Ron Wallace is back! Ron Wallace is back! It took me six years to get back on top and now I have!" "Many felicitations, Mr. Wallace. By the way, have you read your task?" Wallace, the champ, looked irked. Task indeed! He ripped open the envelope, and his face fell. "It says I'm to spent this year producing my next pumpkin. But that I will only be able to grow one of just 2 pounds... and that each person at the fair will be asked to get up and ridicule my 'achievement'. I'll be pilloried, especially after all the great things I said about myself when the results were released September 28." "No doubt, Mr. Wallace, too sad..." By the way, dear guest, I have a letter for you, too. It contains your little task. Open it now. I can't wait to see what you'll be doing. Happy All Hallow's. So awfully good to see you.

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About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author's permission by Howard Martell http://HomeProfitCoach.com.

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