RULES OF HALLOWEEN @ THE j3 HOUSEHOLD

Look, I hate more than anyone to be the party pooper and crap on everyone's parade, but the madness has to stop. I'm here to take the power back. When I was growing up, I was helping my mother out with trick-or-treaters and some punk kids mouthed off to my mother when I was away from the door and left her jack-o-latern smeared across the driveway and, since then, my patience is short with punkass kids. I chased them down around the block in my car and gave them a, uh, rather candid mouthful of colorful and influential language. That being said, Halloween has a deeply personal meaning to me. So Halloween, for me, is a collision of principles and a developed belief system. It's where I impose (although loosely in most cases) those beliefs in others. That's why I'm not very fun to be around on this holiday. I say that, my lovely wife might think I'm quite pleasurable to be around during the course of the evening and, on the outside, maybe so. But inside, I'm just waiting for the circumstances to pop off and chase a punk down the street with a baseball bat.

Okay, maybe not that drastic. But, you get where I'm going. That or I'm coming off as really creepy.

Here are the rules. Remember them. Live by them. And pass them off to your little bunnies when they grow up.

1. I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING
Remember that you're lucky that I turn on that light for you. You come up to my house, you better be respectful, cute and polite to my lovely wife that's handing out the goodies. It's funny because I usually play the dark figure behind my wife carefully watching to make sure there's no foul play. I just stand there ominously like, "Take your candy and get moving," like they're sizing me up, checking out the house like they're gonna rob us blind. It's like a territorial pissing. I just stand there looking as mean as I can. Yeah, I'm real fun at parties.

2. A BATHROBE IS NOT A COSTUME

You show up bathrobe, you better be asking for shampoo. That's what you'll get. You betta damn well be creative before approaching my door. Some kid showed up tonight in a grey sweatsuit. I was like, "Let me guess, you're a thieving jerkoff here to take candy that was bought with our hard-earned money in exchange for your ugly sweatsuit. Get lost." When I was a kid, I got decked out and, at the end of the evening, I hurt from wearing that stupid costume. You're gonna have to go through the same aches and pains that I did. If you're not, stay at home and watch Dancing with the Stars like every other American. Myself included. And my Emmitt Smith-loving father-in-law. Don't tell him I said that.

3. IF YOU'RE NOT IN COSTUME, YOU GET TWO RAISINS AND VERBAL THREAT.
And you're lucky we're that giving. If you want to go from door to door asking for food, I'll give you canned goods, but I have a feeling you'd just chunk it through my living room window as you flee the premises. Then a chase would commence. That's why you get raisins--because they can't be turned on you as a weapon and they're nutritious.

4. WE REFUSE CANDY TO KIDS WITH A SUITCASE OR A TRASH BAG.
We all know that America is a glutonous society with an unsatiable appetite for things that are bad for us, but you don't want to hear that speech on Halloween. Please bring a reasonably size bag for candy. A suitcase is the perfect size for a cinder block. That's what you'll get and I'll follow you down the block to make sure you don't use it as a weapon or for vandalistic purposes.

5. YOU HAVE TO SAY "TRICK OR TREAT," "PLEASE," AND ANNOUNCE WHAT YOU ARE.
I know it's silly, but it's also tradition. Rules is rules, kid. Some moron came by tonight and said, "I don't really know what I am. I think I'm gonna go home and make me like a dummy." Guess what, kid, you already accomplished that. I saw kids that just ran up panting and I'm like, "Say it, ese!" They look at me with this desperate blank look like, "Please! Candy! Hurry!" Where's the fire, dude? You runnin' from the law man? You trying to set a record?

6. YOU CANNOT BE TALLER THAN MY WAISTLINE.
Hey, look at it this way, I'm a tall guy so it's not as cruel as it might sound. It's not like I'm only four feet tall. Of course, I do bust a nasty sag that makes my waistline about five inches lower than what it should be, but that's a technicality that you're gonna have to live with.

7. SNICKERS AND M&Ms ARE FOR THE BEST COSTUMES.
That's why I ate about twelve of them earlier. Look, I'm entitled to judge who gets the best stuff in the bowl. If you come up as a vampire and the only indication that you are, in fact, a vampire is your stupid, 50-cent fangs, then you get a Tootsie Roll--the little ones. If you're gonna take the good stuff from my hands before going into my mouth and into my big belly, you betta give me a good reason.

8. ANYONE SHOWING UP DRESSED AS JOHN LENNON GETS ALL THE CANDY IN THE BOWL AND EVERYTHING IN MY FREEZER.
Hey, you gotta admit, it'd be worth it. I'd give you the entire Beatles catalog if you would burst into "Cold Turkey."

Well, in other news, it's the end of three eras. First, Harold Reynolds from "Baseball Tonight." He reportedly gave an intern a Lewinsky hug and caught wreck from ESPN. Of course, the dude denies it and I give him the benefit of the doubt, but you never know. Sucks. It's like the day I found out that the late Kirby Puckett, my baseball hero growing up, reportedly cornered some lady in the women's restroom and did some rather non-baseball-hero-growing-up things to her.

And Bob Barker's retiring after 35 years of service in network television. Dude paid his dues like a muddah. My wife gasped at the news. I knew she was thinking, "We waited too long." Yeah, I can only dream now of standing on top of the Plinko board with Bob talking about the price of four bars of soap like anyone still uses bar soap. Well, at least we know the Barker Beauties' attorneys will have some time off to spend Barker's money. At least Pasadena got to see him in all of his glory. What does a guy like Bob Barker do in retirement? It's not like's been really working all this time. The dude has the easiest gig in television.

And, I'm finally retiring an old dingy jacket that I swear I've been wearing since 9th grade. Hey, I grew fast as a kid. It still fits. It's the navy-blue-with-brass-button configuration. Ol' blue's finally going to the Army. The Army of Salvation, that is. I wish him well. He's served me well. I replaced him with a slick grey jacket. And, let me tell you, I look gangstafied in that thing.

Yeah, we family.