Halloween Candy

It has to be 'candy', the institution is so American. Mind you, I have two images in my mind with the word 'candy'.

The first is the book I had as an icle wickle kiddiwink. In my edition the K was a C and the cover looked different, but I will, for ever, think of the cuteums Koala, Candy, in Candy Meets the Bunny Babes.  If I had that book now it'd be worth a bit, too. Mind you someone has to want to buy it!

The second is a weird film that came out in 1968, based loosely on Candide; the title was Candy, and the enduring picture in my mind is of a naked girl's butt squirming about on the floor of a glass floored Rolls Royce, filmed from below, being shagged rigid by Ringo Starr. And it wasn't even porn!  Good old Candy found so many different ways to get shagged rigid. I confess I found the film rather tedious, but the butt on the glass remains engraved on my retina.

Today, of course, is All Hallows Eve, an old festival stolen by the authorities and made into a christian festival, just like Easter (all those eggs - how does a bunny lay eggs? Hmm, Candy would know, the bunny-babes would have said!), and we come back to religious nutters, marketing their brand of god and their brand of fire and brimstone.

Both my cues come from the same blogger, Elizabeth Scanlon Thomas:

• Most candy is, apparently, prayed over by witches, says Pat Robertson, self styled christian and religious broadcaster
• In North Carolina there is to be a Book Burning by some minor sect of fools who seem to think that god dictated the Authorised King James Version of the bible

Don't you just love the autumn?

Yes, it brings the weirdos out to play.

It's obvious to me that Fried Chicken is essential at a book burning. I think the sect has a congregation of 14 members, not unlike Fred Phelps and his appalling Westboro Baptist Church, and I do start to wonder if the gene pool is not a little shallow in that part of North Carolina.  Is it near Walton's Mountain?  I confess, though, I had the hots for Jim Bob!

As for Robertson, if he truly believes that any self respecting witch (that's Wiccan, in reality, a valid minority religion) would have anything to do with raising demons then he needs to have his soul purified by the very fire into which he would cast them.  What is it with these people?

But he has reminded me of my Facebook friend and ex Gartner colleague Denise Weaver.

No, Denise, not like that!

Denise is a lovely lady of demure and innocent appearance, behind which is a wicked sense of humour.

A few years ago I and a group of other Brits went to Stamford Connecticut for a meeting with our grown up brothers and sisters in the home office. And, when we went to see Denise she offered us all Atomic Fireballs. She was happily sucking one, and soon so were we.

Sweet, pleasant, and deceptive, they soon turned to burning hot, evil awfulness.

Denise popped another one in, replacing her now finished one.

I was looking for somewhere to spit.

But I could not be beaten by a sweet and demure lady I'd only just met!

I still have some of these. I bought them to bring home, and they've been in store ever since.  I think I'll give them out tonight when the little buggers come knocking in my door whining "Trick or Treat".  It's a trick!

But how can anything that innocent be that hot, that evil?

Maybe the clue's in the ingredient's name, cinnamon: