I was going to blog about Tootsie Rolls, but it was pretty stupid, so I decided not to (I wanted to know why they had rectangular tootsie roll bars – shouldn’t they be called tootsie blocks?).

Not a big deal…

What is a big deal however, is the old “put the candy out in a basket on the porch” trick instead of answering trick or treaters at the door.

I saw a few houses pulling this on Halloween.

It’s a jackpot for some lucky kid who gets there first (unless they’re passing out something lousy like after-dinner mints).

I say, if you’re not in the spirit or you can’t be there to give it out personally, keep your lights off and don’t waste any money on candy. Because just putting it out there defeats the entire purpose of Halloween – which is kids soliciting candy from an actual person.

Although, from what I’ve seen, more than a few kids have forgotten how to ask nicely.

But kids wouldn’t even dress up on Halloween anymore if everyone just put out a basket and called it a night. Why would they? No one would see it? Just like they wouldn’t dress up if people stopped passing out candy all together.

Anyone else have Halloween parties to go to?

I’ve got one tonight and another Saturday.

Per usual, I didn’t figure out what I am going to be until last night.

I’m sure there are others in the same last-minute boat.

My recommendation: pick a costume that is simple and offensive.

If you’re short on time and money – and you still want to be the talk of the town – then you’ve got no other choice.

Why simple? Because it’s cheap – not a lot of shopping or expensive costumes because you can probably make something with the stuff you already have.

Why offensive? Because you need to stand out. Make a few waves. You can’t be just simple, that’s boring. You have to add a twist (plus, being offensive doesn’t take much work).

Remember: think simple.

A good starting place: make a list of famous and infamous icons.

Or (what I like to do): make a list of all the local weirdoes and crazy people in the town where you live. They make great and easy-to-do costumes.

Next, go through all your old clothes and household items to see what you’re working with. Then, pick the character you could best match with what you have.

Note: before you pick someone, famous or local, make sure all your friends would be familiar with. That makes it funnier and saves you a lot of explaining.

Also, think about who’s going to be at the party. Look out for any potential guests that might get overly upset by your display and adjust accordingly. And it while it’s probably not necessary, make sure the person or a person you’re dressed like won’t be there.

Don’t limit your search to people, either. You can be anything. Just look at stuff around your house and imagine something else it could be. Get the creative juices flowing.

Remember to be shocking.

To do this, you have to give your costume a twist. If your character is nice, give them a not-so-nice touch. If they’re evil, sweeten them up a bit.

For example, if you have a club-size piece of wood, a few white sheets and some imagination, you could become the star of the new hit movie, “Walking Tall: The Mother Theresa Story.”

The possibilities are endless (I’d tell you what I’m going to be, but I don’t want to ruin the surprise, or get fired).

It’s Halloween, so feel free to push the envelope. The more taboo, the better.

“Who cares about oncoming traffic? As long as you can see, that’s all that matters.”

That’s apparently the attitude headlight makers have these days.

Unless you’re in an SUV or a vehicle with some clearance, there’s no doubt you’ve noticed the blinding intensity of the newer beams.

They even have commercials that demonstrate how much brighter and wider these upgraded versions are.

So it’s like we’ve turned our low beams into high beams, and high beams into spotlights.

Wow, really smart.

What good is it having lights that can bring down an airplane if the cars coming at you have them too?

We’ll all blind each for the sake of seeing better.

People are lucky there are guys like me out there that fear change and technology. Our dimmers give you a quick window to get a grip over the road again before descending back into hallogen hell.

We’re what’s keeping all you fancy-pants from going off the road.

Headlights we can artificially tan or call on Batman with – another well thought out, and necessary, American innovation.

“I can’t grow facial hair that looks cool so I’m selling these cards and flag pins to make a living.”

If I crept up on you in your office and handed you a card that said that, would you give me money?

No?

Well, apparently I probably would.

I fell for a similar scam a few days ago.

Except the guy didn’t suck at growing a beard. Instead, he claimed he was deaf.

Ironically, I didn’t even hear him come up behind me. I was typing at my computer and he tapped my shoulder.

“Can I help you?” I said, a little startled, no idea who this guy is or what he wants.

No response.

Just staring, and silence.

It was awkward.

I was scared.

Then he hands me a card.

“Let’s Be Friends,” it read. “I am a deaf person selling these cards and flag pins for a living. I love you.”

The card had a chintzy American Flag pin attached to it. On the back was the alphabet for the deaf.

At the bottom it said “Donation, any price you wish.”

“Oh, you’re deaf and you need money,” I say out loud. “Now I understand. That makes perfect sense. Here.”

I handed him $3.

“Sound good?” I asked.

He thanked me in sign language and took off.

Only a real idiot says “sound good” to a deaf person.

I felt pretty stupid.

But, I felt even stupider the more I thought about the whole thing.

What did him being deaf have to do with selling pins for a living?

I actually got kind of mad.

This guy ambushes me at work, ignoring the “employees only” sign and receptionist’s desk, and startles me into forking over a few bucks – just because he’s deaf?

But I realized, the shame was all on me.

If a beggar who wasn’t deaf walked into my office unannounced and asked me for money, I would have told him/her to hit the bricks.

But this guy was “deaf,” so I didn’t. Instead, I gave him money, because, on instinct, I associated not being able to hear with needing a handout.

I don’t know many, but I’m guessing a handout is the last thing a deaf person needs or wants.

Lesson learned, hopefully.

With the Department of Energy’s designation of National Interest Electric Transmission Corridors, the NYRI fight is living up to it’s billing as a heavyweight slugfest.

Over what?

State’s rights vs. federal oversight.

It’s a rivalry that’s had re-match after re-match after re-match.

In this case, the feds say we won’t have enough juice. The state grid operator says we will.

The state says its energy policy is sound. The feds say it needs a babysitter.

NYRI’s had some victories. It’s opponents have had some victories.

And, while neither will come out and say it, Washington and Albany have been on opposite sides of this issue since day one.

So, if the state Public Service Commission denies NYRI’s project, it would only be fitting, all things considered, if the feds went ahead and approved it anyway.

We don’t give much love to farmers anymore.

But I’m giving a big Thumbs up to South New Berlin dairy farmer Ken Dibbell.

When it comes to taking action and thinking outside the box, Ken’s an inspiration – at least he is to me.

He’s got a lot of ideas about how to save small dairy farms from extinction. Some are more popular than others. He’s not afraid to tell you about them, either.

And for an old guy, between farming and fighting, Ken’s got a lot of energy, too (it seems like he’s marching on Washington every other day).

But lately, Ken doesn’t seem to think his efforts will wind up doing any good.

“So why keep doing it,” I asked.

He replied with a smile, “You’ve got to let them know you’re still alive.”

And does he ever (He’s still water-cooler talk in at least one federal building in D.C., because he showed there up with a pitch fork and a list of demands. Although, he says the pitchfork was just for show).

Well, Ken is still alive – more alive than most people half or three-fourths his age, it seems.

He fights for what he believes in. Most people say he’s on the right side, too.

And win or lose, Ken seems happy.

He’s living proof that it pays to believe in something.

“By the power vested in me by the City of Norwich, I now pronounce you cart and cart. You may conveniently interlock with each other for storage purposes.”

The crowd-on-wheels stationed outside the Norwich City Court Monday rattled their cages in thunderous approval.

“Atta boy, Barry,” Somecart yelled out. “Show ‘er the ole swinging gate.”

With that, Mr. and Mrs. Barry and Randi Greasedbearing, the history-making bride and groom, were showered with shredded sales flyers as they headed for the South Plaza in a rented cart-caddy for their 10-day honeymoon.

The first-ever legal shopping cart wedding had concluded.

About 30 similar ceremonies followed in what many on-hand say was a day-long celebration of love and cart’s rights.

“None of this seems real,” said Randi. “I’m still afraid that it’s all just a dream.”

Just over 24 hours after the unprecedented love-fest, a record number of carts have already been popping-up in blissful pairs on lawns and street corners throughout the city.

According to legal experts, however, Randi’s dream, and the dream of several hundred other carts, could turn into a nightmare.

Officials in Albany are already threatening to challenge the city’s recently passed cart marriage law in Supreme Court on the grounds that “it’s really retarded.”

Others want it banned based on religious and moral standards.

“In the bible it says Adam and Eve,” said Wilton Flowers, a self-proclaimed member of the moral majority. “Not Wheelie and Squeak.”

In fact, it doesn’t mention shopping carts at all in the Bible, experts point out. That’s prompted some civil rights activists to call for a re-write of the good book.

“It’s plain and simple; by not including them in his Bible, God has discriminated against shopping carts,” said Sue Anne Litigate, a legal analyst for A-Cart-heid, a non-profit cart’s rights group. “We don’t care who re-writes it, as long as carts get a fair shake.”

In anticipation of the new carriage-friendly Bible testament, married or soon-to-be-wed carts have been seen wearing shirts that read, “The Greatest Story Ever Rolled.”

Even armed with the bible and the law, things aren’t looking up for the carts’ cause. Currently, over a dozen suits challenging the marriages in some form have been filed in state and federal courts. With no legal precedent set, many are unsure how justices will rule in these landmark cases. When informally polled if they were pro or anti cart, 99 percent of surrogate court judges replied, “are you serious?” The other one percent laughed.

While the judges’ positions are inconclusive, the public is clearly split.

Ironically, two separate groups, one for and one against the law, say they both plan to sue God if he rules in favor of the other side.

However the chips fall, Barry and Randi say they’ll always be in love.

“So maybe we won’t get a tax-break,” Barry said, sipping on a Virgin Daiquiri outside the Tractor Supply, enjoying his 10-day vacation. “Big deal.”

“It was still the best day of my life,” Randi added.

“Lard and Clear.”

That was the headline on Monday’s New York Post describing an unfit and scantily clad Britney Spears’ train wreck performance at MTV’s Video Music Awards over the weekend.

That’s really mean, unfair – and funny.

But no one will be laughing if she winds up like Anna Nicole Smith – dead. Sure, Brit’s given us plenty of fodder these days, but behind the laughs it appears her life is falling apart. I’m the first one to admit it’s easy to forget that when you’re busting a gut.

And I’m the first to admit it’s hard to feel bad for celebrities. But we have to either love them or hate them. No more kick ‘em while their down and hug them when they pick themselves back up. No more flip-flopping.

If Britney doesn’t get it together, and winds up like all the rest of Hollywood’s cursed, we can’t take the easy way out and feel bad – we should have felt bad while it was happening. It’s an insult to speak or act otherwise. Instead, I say we force ourselves keep laughing, and see how that feels.

But that would be mean, right?

It’s hot here at Colorscape, but everything else – the music, art, food and folks – is still cool.

Sorry. That was a cheesy line, but there’s a lot going on here and it’s hard to concentrate, so I’m giving you the best I got.

But no amount of handmade crafts, crazy Irish folk singers or flavored coffee – what’s currently occupying most of my attention – will keep The Evening Sun will from providing live updates and web logs from Chenango County’s biggest festival.

Not sure if the weather will hold up, but no one here seems to be worried about it.

The summer is over, and I can’t help but feeling like I didn’t enjoy it enough.

Things I used to do daily from June to September – ride bike, camp, swim, and stay out later than usual – I don’t have time to do them anymore, it seems.

These days, it’s extra hours at work, weeknight commitments, and weekend obligations. Between the work, weddings and events, the majority of the summer is spoken for before it even begins. That makes it hard to enjoy it like we used to – care free.

Most of you are probably saying, “Well, welcome to life as an adult, Sonny.” If so, you’re right. It’s time to grow up.

But I’m not sure what’s worse; feeling bad for wasting a summer or accepting that you did because you’re getting old, and that makes it OK.