In San Francisco, it's hard to tell who is in costume and who is not.
On any given day, it is not unusual to see people with piercings, tattoos, and multicolored hair, wearing their entire wardrobes at one time. Some are homeless, but others have adopted a nouveau 60's lifestyle to turn on, tune in, and drop out.
The Castro, San Francisco's famous gay district and the most colorful part of the city, has always had a gigantic parade and party on Halloween. This year, the city, in a most cruel and misguided move, canceled the entire celebration and even stopped running public transportation to the area at 8:00 p.m.
Most of the trick or treaters in my neighborhood were dressed as little angels and bunny-wunnies, which is not exactly my idea of scary Halloween costumes, but most offensive was the person dressed as a Native American dancer.
Fancy Dancing, as it is called, is both cultural and spiritual. There are competitions at pow wows, but in typical Native American fashion, nobody really loses as all are praised and admired for their unique style which expresses their own relationship with the Creator.
Such trivializing of a great and rich culture by turning it into a Halloween costume is nothing new, but remains as tasteless as ever.
There seemed to be an abundance of baby hookers and pimps on the candy trail, which led to the obvious conclusion that all their parents had gone brain dead on the same day.
Flip wanted to don his pig head and go out. He reminded me that I still have my wolf mask, tail and red cape from a party we attended a few years ago, but I declined. I just wasn't feeling the love.
Maybe it's the Shingles. Or maybe I have simply outgrown Halloween.