Per Drudge, it's a fucking disaster.

Kinda Ontopic (The scope of Govt concern): Link to a cartoon

Perhaps I'm dating myself, but when I was in grade school, I rode my bike to school alone. I could take off with friends pretty much whenever I liked. Trick or treating was no big deal.

Some days I could weep for the kids of today. Well, at least with their computers, Nintendo Wii, and whatever else they have nowadays, perhaps they won't miss the great outdoors.

I remember what I consider the best day of my life. Christmas Day, and my siblings and I all got new sleds. So, after the festivities and clean up, we all walked to the country club to go sledding down the hill. Our collie-shepherd mix, Sparky, would run alongside us, barking all the way, as if he were scolding us for doing such a dangerous thing. Then, as the overcast day grew dark, I remember having time to think about how full the day was. How we did so much. It was a long day. Impossibly long, it seemed. But I enjoyed every bit of it. From the new snow, the gifts, the playing, and the sledding.

Is what we did that day, by today's standards, so dangerous? I mean, three children, aged eight, 10 and 11, going all by themselves to a country club that was closed for the winter, to go sledding? And this, of course, was before cell phones, so no calling home and no way for Mom to contact us.

And when we arrived back home, our mother was thrilled we'd had a good time, and wasn't the slightest bit worried about our safety.

Aren't most accidents in the home? Home is not a safe place to be.

When I was seven years old (back in the 70's) my Grandfather decided I was old enough to have a jackknife. The very first thing I did was cut myself with it. I didn't get in trouble, because my family thinks that pain is the best teacher, and I haven't had a severe cut since.

I also rode my bike without a helmet or shoes, and the day I scraped up my toes because I tried to stop by dragging my feet, the same Grandfather put Campo-Phenique on my scrapes and didn't blow, because, again, pain is the best teacher. End result is that in many, many, situations throughout my life I've saved myself pain and trouble by checking to see if I've got my shoes on, metaphorically speaking.

My family also realized that end goal of child-rearing is to raise a functional adult. For the life of me, I can't understand why any parent would voluntarily keep a child soft, helpless, whiny and dependent.

Don't forget the flame resistant beard for your Blackbeard costume!

At first I wondered whether someone at the CPSC had a sly sense of humor, or none at all. Then this bit removed any doubt - "Children should go only to homes where the residents are known". People with such paralyzing paranoia about their fellow citizens are a greater threat to the healthy development of children than imaginary perverts with poison candy.

I will be cooking and giving out bacon. If anyone gets up in my grill, I will tell them how much healthier it is than candy.

And if it's not the Safety Nazis, it's the Racism Nazis sucking the life out of Halloween:

http://ca.news.yahoo.com/racist-halloween-costumes-stir-debate-101809349.html

You are all missing the point. This is Halloween! They are just trying to scare you.

TAX THE POOR.

They're the only ones left who understand that money has meaning.

Killer costume.

Actually the only cases of tainted candy were all done by relatives of the kids. But that little fact hasn't stopped the rampant "poisoned candy" paranoia. I let my kids eat it all. I don't inspect it. It's statistically a waste of my time. If I poison my kids candy, I'll know it already.

Aren't most accidents in the home?

That's why I moved.

Amy, sorry for OT, but I just wonder, have you seen this?

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/manhattan/zuccotti_hell_kitchen_i5biNyYYhpa8MSYIL9xSDL#ixzz1c0lbgSth

> That's why I moved.

Best of Blog, October 2011. Amy will be sending out the windbreaker, sports bottle and gift certificate redeemable at participating Red Lobster™ restaurants; watch your mailbox.

It terrifies me, what they're doing with all our tax dollars. Why not just light them on fire?

Who? The kids? That's really unsafe!! Seriously though. I don't think I've ever checked my kids' candy either. In fact, the only reason I ever look in the bag is because I'm trying to beat them to the king size Snickers.

We've lived here for 18 years with nary a single trick-or-treater to come a knockin.

I am not sure if it is the drive out in the country, the long gravel road, the longer gravel darrrrrk driveway, the closed gate, the barking dogs or the lack of porchlight.

I get all the Snickers bars.

Win.

You're going to die, but whether or not you live first is up to you.