Election Jump Scare

We've Got a Calendar Problem

I’ve decided to do away with Halloween this year. Election day is scary enough, don’t you think?

While walking around on a beautiful fall day, I’d normally be enchanted by the skeletons you so carefully unbagged and spread about on your lawn. Or the eerie sag of the inflatable whatever-it-is leaning half-mast against your house. I might give a moment’s pause to what looks like cartoonish ghosts being lynched in your trees. If I had more time I might stop and read the witticisms on all the propped up gravestones. You obviously went through great pains to click on a website, bring in a box or two, and set aside a Saturday afternoon to acknowledge this great American holiday. And I applaud the efforts!

But I can’t look at any of it this time around. I’m too freaked out.

We’ve got our own self-inflating ghoul to worry about right now: a vengeful Sith Lord who needs no summoning. He is here. And last night, in Manhattan — practically spitting distance from where I sit — he gathered his coven of wretched fascists in Madison Square Garden for a good ol’ political spook fest. Can you think of anything scarier? 

You’ve already heard enough about it. You’ve already had deeply upsetting, pants-crapping thoughts. You’ve already read that Trump’s MSG conjuring was eerily like another fascist rally at the OLD Madison Square Garden in 1939. Yeah, that 1939. When the world dipped its toe into the acid bath of fascism and came out with an incurable flesh-eating disease that’s only getting worse. 

Stephen King himself couldn’t have invoked a more terrifying scene. As a piece of storytelling, Trump’s MSG Haunted Bigot Bash was on brand — for Halloween and for Maga. I could cash in by creating a costume out of each person there, package it in a plastic envelope with a hanger, and sell it at The Spirit of Halloween on Route 10. “Angry White Prick,” “Addled Housewife Controlled by Husband,” “Irksome/Complaining Millennial,” “Sadistic Homophobe/Anti-Semite,” “Troubling Billionaire/Egomaniac.” 

I’m not a visual artist, nor am I particularly visual. But I created the image above. It took about four minutes, and required my most advanced skill: typing. Ok, my 13 year-old son helped me, but I promise, I typed. Here’s what went down.

“Henry, don’t you think Trump looks like Chucky?” I asked, attempting to briefly distract him from an exciting game of Brawl Stars.

“I guess,” is what I think he said.

“If I wanted to make an AI generated image of Trump and Chucky … how would I do that?”

In a matter of seconds, Henry pointed me in the direction of Deep AI. I typed in a few ideas — or commands — and was pleasantly surprised. The stupid mental picture I had briefly envisioned popped up before my eyes. With small adjustments to the writing — or commanding — the image could veer in uncanny directions. I realized the importance of commanding the image to have a knife, not a “weapon” (which yielded a semi-automatic rifle). I commanded the image to be “old,” which made it even more Trumpy. Henry also advised me to type “red cracks under skin,” which proved key to making a believable Trump/Chucky. And voila. I commanded art!

I’m not saying this is an original idea. In seven or eight minutes, I’m sure I could generate dozens of options with Trump + [scary thing] with orange hair. No biggie! I suppose this little art lesson pointed out that it’s all too easy to make something hideously ugly. But come on, I’ve dumped Halloween decorations onto my front porch for years; I knew that already.

The question is, are we fixated on the vulgarity of this seasonal spectacle in order to distract ourselves from what’s real (i.e., terrifying)l? As much as I try to whistle in the dark, I’m not good at focusing on the sea of seasonal debris: I’m too scared out of my wits.

Halloween and presidential elections ask us to do something terrifying — something much harder than the memes and plastic skeletons let on. They put us face to face with what scares us most. Historically, we’re not comfortable doing that. The most ancient rites in human social systems dared people to go down into caves; there, they faced the oblivion of the Dark Zone – the part of a cave where light never, ever shines. It was there that only the very bravest could commune with deities, or practice sorcery, or perform rituals. They could bring back minerals and gems as a show of strength. They had faced fear, and they had overcome it. And when they emerged into the light, squinting, they were bestowed with incredible power. 

I’m no hero. And I don’t feel much like venturing into caves. But clearly it’s happening, and it’s spooky as hell. No offense, but I don’t need your rendition of Skeleton Family Watching a Football Game to add to the terror. Hell, we’ve got Nate Silver for that. 

But I’ve got an idea for an alternative.

I propose a new holiday — one that is mercifully celebrated only quadrennially. Every four years, during the presidential election, we shall observe Gloomsday. On this day we will go to the polls while holding our breath, practice hopeful incantations, wear affirming t-shirts, proudly wear “I Voted” stickers, and make sure our passports are up to date. On such years, Halloween is hereafter skipped. We shall observe Gloomsday instead. No fuss no muss. Cool? You take a break on decorations — just leave it all in the basement. We’ll still be scared plenty shitless. While candy will be optional on Gloomsday, liquor will be mandatory. Let the memes begin.

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** Hope you’re surviving it all with aplomb! If so, let me know how…. xox **