Consuming Costuming

There's a pressure in dress up for me as October 31 rolls on up like a giant pumpkin ready to squash me with its oppressive social demand to be something else. And if I'm going to be something else, I want to be something else entirely--why be a sexy pirate, say, when you can be a sexy Flying Spaghetti Monster, and thereby spend the night touching people with your noodly appendage. I've always been a fan of the conceptual costume, too, like the year the person that I was with then and I dressed up as Webster v. Reproductive Health Services, the Supreme Court case that suggested Roe v. Wade might not be settled law. I wore a judge's robe, and held a chain that went around fake-pregnant her. I never said I was subtle.

Other years things were simpler--the time I went as a Baskin Robbins, decorating myself in pink and brown dots, attaching a now serving sign on my back complete with a pull chain, carrying an ice cream scoop. That was a sweet costume. And I admit that last year (this was really only just 12 months ago?) I had no costume until about 20 minutes before party time when I grabbed a plunger, put a cap on backwards, and talked stupid most of the night, even before drinking. Yes, I was Joe the Plumber.

For a costume is one thing, assuming another personality is even better. Why not pull a bewitching switch on yourself? That's how Cal and Carl Gionfriddo were born, with some help from the hair and ears section of an old Ronald Reagan mask. I cut the face part off, you see, and the hair, when worn, sort of transforms a person. The Gionfriddos, one a bit sleazier than the other (I can't even remember which was which, now), were song-stylists, and were fond of polyester and white shoes (alas two sizes two small for me, so they were always a bit cranky, too). They were the kind of guys who called a dame a doll, pointed when they talked, but with both index and pinky stretched, as if they were forking their targets, and even better, wore not just gold chains but one chain with a pierced quarter on it, the first tip they ever earned at the piano bar. They were cousins, for some reason (OK, for the obvious reason--Brooklyn Bums, were they, not damn Yankees), of Al Gionfriddo, who made a famous catch against Joe DiMaggio in the 1947 World Series. One time, playing one of the Gionfriddos I was so successfully obnoxious people at the party who didn't know me complained to the hosts about my demeanor. I want to say I was brilliantly disguised that night.

I guess my problem this year is deciding who I want to be. I'm willing to take suggestions, but time is short for any special transformations. I partially would like to go as a "Robust Public Option," since Halloween is time for fantasy and all. I'm not sure--just like our friends in DC, I guess--how that might look, though. Yeah, I could pack a codpiece and add fake muscles for the robust part. Bring a stethoscope with two listening ends, it is/I am so strong. Be sure I have lots of pictures of Joe Lieberman to take out and rip up, as he's sort of the Lex Luthor to my Robustness. And besides just ripping up his photo would be fun.

That said, I'm asking for your help, here. How can I keep everyone healthy, at least for an evening? They say laughter is the best medicine, so get in line to make me a punch line to remember.