Halloweens New Arms Race A Horror Show in Suburbia
Dear Uncle Bobby - Is it just me, or has Halloween gotten a little… out of hand? My neighbors have fog machines, animatronic zombies, and a skeleton taller than my garage. When did this become the new Christmas?
Trapped In October'S Overkill,
Skeletons in the Yard
Oh, you noticed too? Yeah, somewhere between pumpkin spice lattes and $800 “spooky inflatables,” Halloween stopped being about kids in pillowcase costumes and became a full-blown suburban arms race.
Remember when Halloween was simple? You carved a lopsided pumpkin, threw on a sheet, and called it a night. Now we have neighborhoods that look like The Walking Dead meets Cirque du Soleil. Every front yard is a federal disaster zone — twelve fog machines, synchronized lightning, and a corpse that screams every time the wind blows.
We’ve got folks building haunted house experiences complete with actors, lighting rigs, and soundtracks that would make Spielberg blush. Clark Griswold used to rule Christmas; now he’s haunting cul-de-sacs everywhere with motion-sensor skeletons and laser-projected ghosts.
It’s not festive anymore — it’s competitive. “Oh, you have one skeleton? Cute. We have a life-sized horse-drawn hearse, and our fog machine runs on despair and Red Bull.”
Meanwhile, the electric meters are spinning fast enough to power a small village, and the only truly scary thing left is the November power bill. Kids can’t even make it to the porch — they’re too busy crying because your front yard looks like a portal to hell opened between the azaleas.
And for what? So you can post on Facebook, “We go a little crazy for Halloween!” while your animatronic clown terrifies the mailman into early retirement?
Don’t get me wrong — I love a little spooky spirit. But maybe, just maybe, we bring it down a notch. Turn off the floodlights, put away the hydraulic zombies, and let a kid ring the bell without PTSD.
Because Halloween used to be about candy.
Now it’s about bragging rights.
And frankly, I miss when the scariest thing in the neighborhood was a dude in a plastic mask and a cheap flashlight.
– Uncle Bobby