By Jason Webber

So it’s come to this — from Bat Out of Hell, to Bat Out of Hell II: Back Into Hell, to Bat Out of Hell III: The Monster Is Loose to, finally, Hell In A Handbasket. At this point, the album should’ve been called Meat Loaf: Shut the Hell Up. Thirty five years after Meat Loaf established himself as the Zeus of Schlock Rock, he’s back with what he promises is his most “personal” album to date. Just one problem — he’s not saying anything all that interesting. Sure, there are a few eyebrow-raising surprises on this 12-track album. Props to Chuck D for having the sense of humor to appear on this musical equivalent of cheese-in-a-can. But camp alone cannot save Hell In a Handbasket from being a thorough disappointment — and I’m a true, diehard Meat Loaf fan. A Meat Loaf album should be fun, damnit, and filled with over-the-top, bombastic, Wagnerian production and enough melodrama to make Erica Kane blush. But there’s little excitement to be found on this astonishingly tepid album from one of rock’s most explosive performers.  The big, would-be Broadway numbers never rise above a simmer, and even Meat’s trademark power ballads don’t exactly inspire make out sessions. His name is Robert Paulson, er, I mean Meat Loaf. And his new album kinda sucks.

How About I Be Me (And You Be You)?

By Jason Webber

With the release of the wonderfully raw and confessional album How About I Be Me (And You Be You)?, Sinéad O’Connor proves that tearing up a picture of the Pope back in ’90 was just a small sample of her chutzpah. It’s impossible to imagine anyone besides O’Connor who can sing lyrics like “I hope you know that all I want from you is sex/To be with someone who looks smashing in athleticwear,” with a straight face and somehow make them poignant and heartfelt (actually, on second thought, Liz Phair probably could too. But anyway…) On her first album since 2007’s bland Theology, O’Connor has reignited the inner flames that made albums like The Lion and the Cobra and Universal Mother such feminist classics. There’s a lot to love on this musically solid, 10-track album, including the buoyant opening track “4th and Vine,” about Sinéad’s then impending marriage and “Reason With Me,” a harrowing, eerily realistic chronicle of a junkie’s struggle to get clean. When she’s fired up and angry, there’s no musical force that can rival Sinéad O’Connor and How About I Be Me (And You Be You)? proves this theory. Welcome back, Sinéad. Thanks for kicking so much ass.

Famed Star Aims to “Destroy” Dayton with Laughter

By Jason Webber

Jim Breuer will always be remembered for his character Goat Boy and his perfect send up of Joe Pesci during his four-year run on Saturday Night Live, as well as his co-starring role in the ‘90s cult film Half Baked. But Breuer’s post-millennium comedy makes him much more than a nostalgia act and, if anything, he just gets sharper and funnier as the years pass. Breuer will be rocking the Funny Bone for one night only on Wednesday, February 22 at 7:30. We caught up with Breuer to find out how he’s been and if he might be the one person on the planet that can stomach that Lou Reed/Metallica album.

You could discover a cure for cancer and you would probably still be best remembered as Goat Boy and for playing Brian in Half Baked. Do you ever get tired of those two roles being your main legacy?

No, not at all. I’m an entertainer. I’m not out to start a revolution or change the world. I’m out to make people happy. If their all-time favorite role is the SNL stuff, great, if it’s Half Baked, that’s great too. If it’s none of that and it’s just me as a comedian, then great. Whatever brings them out is fine with me. [Jim Breuer]

You’re known for being a huge Metallica fan. What did you think of that album they recently did with Lou Reed?

Never listened to it, probably won’t. It’s just not my style. I can’t listen to Lou Reed — it’s like listening to a cat being maimed. [JB]

What’s your favorite Metallica song to have sex to?

If I had to, it would be “Nothing Else Matters,” I guess. But I’ve never made love to their music. It’s pretty aggressive and that’s just not my (lovemaking) style. [JB]

Your Half Baked costar Dave Chappelle lives near Dayton. When you come to town are you guys going to try and meet up?

I wish he would. I always considered him a friend and not just a business partner, but I haven’t heard from him in a couple of years. It would mean a lot if he reached out. I got to know Dave better than probably anyone else. [JB]

How old were you when you first smoked weed?

I was a senior in high school, so I was going on 18. All I remember about it is that I don’t think I had ever made people laugh so hard in my life. [JB]

My favorite role of yours was when you played Joe Pesci on SNL. That time when Joe Pesci and Robert De Niro showed up on The Joe Pesci Show, was that planned or was that a total surprise?

It was a planned surprise.  It was planned but it almost didn’t happen because De Niro had never been on television before. That was his first live TV appearance and right before it started he was backing out. So I seem really surprised in that sketch because during the dress rehearsal, he was backing out of the bit. So I had no idea they were even there until the sketch was nearly over and they walked out. But I think that ended up being one of the best bits ever. [JB]

Have you been using any of the Republican debates as fodder for your standup acts?

I don’t get into politics. I don’t believe in politics, I think it’s all a scam. I don’t even believe that we even get to vote. I think it’s really no different than any other nonsense, ridiculous country except that their sales pitch to us is that “You’re free.” [JB]

Did you know there’s a petition on your IMDB page to get you cast as The Joker in the next Batman movie?

[Laughs] No, but I’ll take it! That was always my dream role as a kid. That’s freakin’ hilarious. I would destroy that role. [JB]

What can people expect with the show you’re doing in Dayton?

Well, I’m really taking it to a new level with the new special I’m working on. I’m confident this is going to raise me to the same level where Cosby was at one time. I love what I do and I’m going to destroy the place. [JB]

Jim Breuer performs at the Funny Bone in The Greene on Wednesday, February 22 at 7:30. $25. 937-429-5233.

Reach DCP freelance writer Jason Webber at JasonWebber@DaytonCityPaper.com.

By Jason Webber

Decades after eating Chinese oranges with Suzanne, waxing poetic about torn blue raincoats and predicting a future that is “murder,” 77-years young Leonard Cohen has lived and loved enough for three lifetimes. But his new album Old Ideas proves that the self-described “lazy bastard in a suit” will not be going quietly into the night. Over the span of 10 songs, Cohen wrestles with his eternal demons of faith, redemption and mortality as only he can — with class, grace and his trademark wry humor. After a lifetime of searching and pondering, Cohen still hasn’t decoded the genomes of Love and Woman but he’s not about to cease his quest, as evidenced by bitter ballads like “Crazy To Love You” and “Different Sides.” Only Cohen could write such cryptically endearing lyrics like “The mouse ate the crumb/Then the cat ate the crust/Now they’ve fallen in love/They’re talking in tongues.” Nearly 30 years after he announced he was paying his rent in the Tower of Song, Old Ideas proves that Cohen is no longer a tenant — he is lord and ruler of that mystical property. Because he is Leonard Cohen. And this is what he does.

Once upon a time, in the late ’80s/early ’90s to be exact, there was a magical world called 4AD Records, a mystical land where Pixies, Breeders, Cocteau Twins and other creatures played melodic and dreamy alternative music that touched the souls of millions of misfit listeners. But as the years passed, a dark cloud of mediocrity and banality began suffocating this once-bright world, and people wondered if 4AD would ever shine again. Then, from the darkness came a duo called The Big Pink, and the people rejoiced, for this was a classic 4AD-sounding band that played hazy, goth-tinged soundscapes that made you both dance and think. On their sophomore album Future This, the Big Pink sound like the freshest band in years, even if their style owes more than a debt to their shoegaze forefathers like the Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine. Deliciously well-crafted dance numbers like “Hit the Ground (Superman),” and wrist-slitting heartbreakers like “77” make this the perfect album for anyone who’s ever played a Joy Division record after a breakup. Future This transports you to the glorious past of 4AD Records … and damn, does it sound good.

On Politics, Men and the Business of Being Funny

By Jason Webber

Kathleen Madigan is kind of a pain to interview … because she’s so damn funny and interesting. It’s tough to take notes and move through your list of questions when you’re too busy laughing at her no-nonsense analysis of this insane asylum called the Modern World. There’s a reason why Madigan was recently named one of the Nine Funniest Women On the Planet by Pop Matters and the Detroit Free Press, and why Lewis Black called her “the funniest woman in America.” We caught up with Madigan recently to get her take on the Republican debates, men and whether or not Obama can get Joe Biden out of a bar.

As someone who lives in Ohio, I have to give you props for the Dennis Kucinich jokes that you made around the time leading up to the last presidential election. What’s your take on the recent Republican debates?

Kathleen Madigan: Oh, God, they’re so crazy. Ron Paul, to me, is the biggest anomaly ever, and I’ve paid attention to politics my whole life. At every point in a debate, he’ll say something that makes every American go “Yeah! Yeah!” but then your next thought is “But we can’t do that.” He’s like your crazy grandpa who just shouts things out at Thanksgiving: you know he’s right but you also know you can’t do it. [Ron Paul] is the most interesting. The least interesting is Mitt Romney. I just can’t believe how boring he is. Even the Republicans and the Evangelicals are having secret meetings and going “It can’t be him.” I’ve never seen the Republicans go this far in eating their own. The Democrats will. The Dems are never organized, it’s always a free-for-all. The Republicans usually get in line, but Newt has just gone off the rails. Everyone was saying this Fannie Mae thing was gonna bring him down and I remember saying “No, it’s not.” Americans aren’t gonna understand that.  I pay attention to the news and up until last year, I thought Fannie Mae was a chocolate company in Chicago. People aren’t paying close enough attention for it to be a big enough scandal.  I think the moderators at these debates suck. There’s never any follow-up questions. When they say you have 30 seconds to answer a question, give me a break. You can’t answer a serious question in 30 seconds. It’s crazy.

When you go to more conservative areas of the county, do you ever scale back the political humor?

No, because I’m not really coming from a left point of view. I’m pointing out the absurdity of all of it, which includes the Democrats. I mean, Obama? Come on. Last month I saw him on TV and he was saying “Listen, Americans, I’m gonna need you to email your Congressmen and let them know how you feel.” I remember thinking, “Well, then you’re going to need to email me who they are.” What is wrong with him? People don’t know [who their Congressmen are]. He so far overestimates the general public. He’s saying “I’m gonna need your help on this.” Hey, we’re busy. My fantasy football team is falling apart at the seams. Call Biden, because the ticket didn’t say “Obama-Madigan,” it said “Obama-Biden.” Go get that Irishman out of a bar somewhere and have him help you. [KM]

Can someone learn to be funny or it just something you’re born with?

I think you’re either funny or you’re not. One of my brothers could never be funny; I mean, he doesn’t even get it when we’re funny. That’s why I think comedy classes are kind of pointless unless you’re just wanting to learn how to be a better public speaker.  I think people are under the illusion that they can make you funny and they just can’t. It’s like having a good singing voice; either you do or you don’t. You can take classes to make yourself sound better, but if you can’t sing, you can’t sing. [KM]

Do you think female comics are taken as seriously as male comics?

I think they are now but I think it’s really telling when people come up to me and say, “I usually don’t think women are funny but you were great tonight.” They don’t mean that in an insulting way. I forget that when I go onstage and people don’t know who I am, they’re already thinking there’s a chance I’m not going to be funny. I don’t think they’d think that if it were a guy onstage. A lot of comics, we sit around and talk about the positives and negatives. As a woman walking onstage I’m a negative-one.  A white guy is at a zero. If you’re a black guy, you’re probably at a plus-one, because people automatically think you’re funny. If you’re fat, you’re probably at a plus-one. But at least half of the people who come to see me are guys and they get it. [KM]

Do female comedians ever get male groupies?

Not in the same way a male comic would because usually if a guy is at the show he’s with a date. So you’re not gonna get a bunch of guys to rent a bus and go to a comedy show, but women might do that. But it doesn’t really work the other way. [KM]

Do you think men are afraid to approach you and ask you out?

Well, I think I have a better chance of getting asked out if they don’t know what I do. Guys say they want a woman with a sense of humor, but I don’t know if they mean a professional [sense of humor]. It’s a little weird once you cross that line. [KM]

You appeared on Vh1’s I Love the ‘80s and I Love the ‘90s. If you could make out with one ‘90s rock star, who would it be?

I’m gonna go with John Mellencamp. He’s a Midwest guy, my type. He’s kind of hot. [KM]

Kathleen Madigan will be performing on Friday, February 3 at 7:30 p.m. at the Victoria Theatre. For ticket information, call 937-228-3630 or visit www.victoriatheatre.com

Reach DCP freelance writer Jason Webber at JasonWebber@DaytonCityPaper.com.

Pauly Shore Delivers Wiezel-free — But Still Funny — Comedy to Dayton

By Jason Webber

It was Southern California. It was the late ‘80s. And to those of us in a certain demographic who were there — the “Yo! MTV Raps” — watching, T&C Surf Design-wearing, suburban kids who were being spoiled by our Yuppie parents — Pauly Shore, a.k.a. The Wiezel, wasn’t just some dude on cable television, bro. He was our spokesman, beaming our message out to our exiled brothers and sisters in Middle America, who suddenly began confounding their parents by using terms like “edged,” “melons,” and what have you.

What was our message? Duuude, we didn’t know then and we still don’t know now, buuuuddy. But ah, it was a magical time when we could seriously imagine a day where Dudespeak would become the official language of the United States and when “Stop” signs would be replaced with signs reading “Just Chill.” Of course, we all know what happened next — we all grew up and became just as boring as our parents, and Pauly Shore grew out of The Wiezel persona.

But while Pauly may never Wiez onstage again, he’s still doing comedy. And best of all, he is still very, very funny. Dayton City Paper caught up with the reformed Wiezel to discuss subjects befitting a dude — Guns N Roses, Sam Kinison, girls and Sacha Baron Cohen.

Jason Webber: Your Wiezel persona was obviously a caricature of Southern California surfer/slacker culture. I haven’t lived in Southern California in more than 20 years. Are there dudes like The Wiezel still out there? Has the slang changed all that much from the ‘80s?

Pauly Shore: Oh yeah, they’re still here. I mean, it’s Southern California — it’s just the way it’s always been. I’m sure [the slang] has changed some over the years, but I don’t know how much.

You’ve always claimed Sam Kinison was your mentor. What was your favorite memory of working with Sam?

Oh man, he really was my mentor. I was just in awe of him. I looked like that kid in the Coca-Cola commercial looking up at Michael Jordan. It was interesting because when I saw Sam’s career really take off I was 17 or 18 at the time, and I just started doing standup. I was really inspired by him. [PS]

I loved your tribute to Sam in “Pauly Shore Is Dead” (Shore’s 2003 mockumentary).

Yeah, that was great, huh? [PS]

I once read that when you were four years old you sat on Elvis’s lap. Do you remember that?

Nah, it’s just a blur. I mean … I was only four. [PS]

Back in the day you were a big fan of Guns N Roses, and you gave them a shout-out on “The Future of America” (Shore’s 1990 comedy album). What is your opinion of the new version of Guns N Roses? Y’know, the one without Slash, Duff and Izzy?

I don’t really have an opinion because those guys just aren’t together anymore. I see Slash sometimes. Everyone’s cool. [PS]

There’s a scene in “Pauly Shore Is Dead” where we see you being evicted from your house and Carrot Top moving in. Do you still have most of the money you made during your ’90s heyday, or have you had some financially lean years?

Yeah, I’m all right. It was funny having Carrot Top move into my house though, right? [PS]

What’s the most number of women you’ve had in bed at the same time?

(Without hesitation) Four. [PS]

You publicly stated that you thought Sacha Baron Cohen lifted the plotline of your movie, “Adopted,” and used it in his “Bruno” movie by adopting African kids as a publicity booster. Did you ever hear anything from Sacha about that?

No. Not a word. Did you think “Adopted” was real? [PS]

Well, I knew it was a mockumentary but I could definitely see how it would have fooled some people.

Yeah, I like to take the stuff that’s real and then flip it on its head, you know? I want to do a mockumentary called “Pauly Shore Is Mayor of A Small Town” where I would go to some random town and run for mayor. The problem is, I think if I ran I’d win. And then I’d have to stay there in that small town and they would think I’m a c—sucker. I can’t stay in a shit town and be a mayor. [PS]

Would you ever make another Wiezel movie? What about one showing The Wiezel in middle age?

I’m thinking of a cartoon series showing that. That’d be cool. Let’s call up MTV, broooo (in Wiezel voice). [PS]

Pauly Shore will be bringing his wry observational humor to Dayton Funny Bone from Thursday, January 26 through Saturday, January 28.

Reach DCP freelance writer Jason Webber at JasonWebber@DaytonCityPaper.com.

Jason, Actually

Bumbling and stumbling in my first year in Dayton

By Jason Webber

Jason Webber and Hugh Grant in "Love Actually" ... together at last.

So there I am sitting on the sofa in the traditional post-Thanksgiving food coma with my ex-girlfriend’s new husband when it occurs to me — my life is rather odd — and not just because I’m good buddies with my ex’s new spouse. 2011 was the oddest year on record in a life that’s seen more than its share of weirdness … and I blame you, Dayton.

Oh, Dayton, Dayton, Dayton. A city of innovation, Midwest coffee houses that can compete with Seattle (Holla, Press! Holla, Ghostlight!), and the best damn downtown art theater I’ve ever seen (here’s lookin’ at you, Neon). I’ve lived in three metropolitan-sized cities in five states and I say without hesitation — you’re a cool place, Dayton. Even if you drive me crazy sometimes.

I will remember 2011 as my first full year of living as a single man in Dayton, and it was just plain nutty. I’ve enjoyed and suffered through some occasionally fun, always bizarre dating adventures this year that wouldn’t be out of place in an old Leisure Suit Larry game (Millennials, ask your older brother or your dad to explain the reference). There was the woman I once hung out with as part of her 45-man “research project” for a book she was then planning to write about first dates. She called me again, so I guess I did OK. There was the woman who proclaimed she was an alchemist who could change water into wine, but alas, I never did get to witness her getting her Jesus on. There was the woman at Blind Bob’s who called me a “Communist” and stormed away in a huff after I said some disparaging things about Ayn Rand. Face it, Dayton — your dating pool needs chlorine. Big time.

But hey, that’s what this year has been all about — trying to work out the kinks. I have an ex who calls me Hank Moody because I do this writing thing and I’m a self-confessed rake, but I think I’m more akin to Hugh Grant in his early films — bumbling and stumbling my way through life and trying to somehow make this natural haplessness part of my charm. Is it working? Yeah, didn’t think so. I’m trying, though. Honestly.

As 2011 draws to a close, I’m filled with gratitude for this little life of mine and I can’t wait to see what the next year brings. I look forward to making new friends, shaking my ass to whatever music Jay Madewell lays down at J-Alans, trying new beers at Lucky’s, maybe getting a new tattoo at Cloak & Dagger. Looking back at my first year of Dayton insanity, this is what I’ve learned:

-You will never be as cool as “Gladgirl” Shelly Hulce so don’t even try it.

-It’s a bad idea to mention that you like Brainiac better than Guided By Voices.

-You’re cruising for a bruising if you are in an Oregon District bar and suggest to the nearest hipster that bacon is bad for them, that Toms shoes are this year’s Crocs, and that not everything Thom Yorke touches turns into gold.

-If you were to tally up how many times you hear “Dayton has so much potential, but…” in a month, you would run out of paper very quickly.

-The Jelly Doughnut Pancakes at the Butter Café are worth the resulting weight gain.

-Cold Marion’s Piazza is great for hangovers.

-You’re never too old to dance at Vex, but after age 35, skip ordering the vodka-cranberry. That’s kid stuff.

-Some people are very sensitive to the fact that they will no longer earn social cred for having a case of Yuengling in their fridge now that it’s available everywhere. So be nice to them.

-Never trust someone who can’t tell the difference between Gold Star and Skyline in a blind taste test.

Well, whaddya want from me? I never said I was wise, only a wise-ass. Thanks for a great year, Dayton. You’re fickle and impossible to understand at times, but I’m not ready to break up with you yet. Why? ‘Cause I kinda-sorta-I-reckon-maybe love you. Just don’t tell anyone.

Reach DCP freelance writer Jason Webber at JasonWebber@DaytonCityPaper.com.

By Jason Webber

Jason Webber turns 36!

And now I shall tell ye the accursed tale of how I inadvertently damned myself with a permanently lazy eye from playing pirates with my third-grade classmates, and what in Davy Jones’ Locker this has to do with my upcoming 36th birthday.
So there we were, the Unholy Third Grade Trinity of Ojai Valley Christian School in Oak View, Calif. — me, my best mate Jarrod and our friend Matt — who, in the year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Four, were known and feared on the playground as a bloodthirsty band of marauders called Murrell’s Pirates.

Actually, that’s horse puckey. The only thing we marauded were the Oreos and Twinkies that our moms packed in our metal Pac-Man lunchboxes and the only people who feared us were the teachers who were afraid that we would spread our obsession with Michael Jackson’s Thriller album to the student body in a Baptist school that allowed neither rock ‘n’ roll nor dancing.

But Murrell’s Pirates, the name of which I nicked from Tom Sawyer (my first anti-establishment hero), were a serious gang, albeit not quite on par with Bloods, Crips and Juggalos. Lunchtime recess was spent playing soccer, basketball, TV tag and our favorite pastime, trying to get Gretchen, the prettiest girl in school, to pay attention to one of us — and she eventually did, “going out” with all of us at different times over the ’83-’84 school year (this was when “going out” meant sitting with you at lunch or coloring with you). I still have the sole love letter she wrote me, scrawling “I want to mary you” on that thin beige drawing paper they used to give us during “free time.”

I never served as gang leader — that role was filled by Jarrod, a born executive who today holds a highfalutin’ position at Microsoft. However, I did give us our name, design our paper badges that we Scotch taped to our uniforms every day and I had something the others didn’t have — a real, custom made, leather eye patch.

Don’t ask me why, but I’ve always had this weird obsession with pirate culture. I loved Treasure Island, Peter Pan, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland, that Secret of Monkey Island computer game from the early ‘90s, what have you. So it was pretty cool of my dad to order me a specially designed eye patch from a local leather shop and I wore that thing with pride. Soon it became a full-blown trademark and I was known to upper and lower classmen alike as “the eye patch dude.” I’ve since been called worse things.

But after a while my teacher began to notice something odd — my left eye was beginning to drift. Wouldn’t you know it? You’re not supposed to wear an eye patch unnecessarily for long periods of time, especially when you’re 8 years old with a still-developing optic system. The likely result is amblyopia, better known as “lazy eye.” By the time my parents were alerted to how bad my vision had gotten, it was too late — my left eye was forever jacked.

The things is, those old third grade memories of playground piracy have been on my mind a lot lately as I approach my 36th birthday because in a way, those halcyon days perfectly capture what I’ve learned about life thus far — the fun you have along the way makes it all worthwhile … even with the consequence of a self-inflicted lazy eye. Looking back, playing pirates with my friends during the Year of Big Brother marked the high point of my grade school years. Today, I’d still wear that damned eye patch, even with knowing it could lead to a lifetime of enduring “WTF-are-you-looking-at?” expressions. Why? ‘Cause look at the fun that thing brought me.

It’s kinda funny; I spent most of my early 30s constantly fretting and worrying about the responsibilities of adulthood — debt, career advancement (or lack thereof), a seemingly polluted dating pool and dealing with pirates of the non-playground variety, like backstabbing coworkers and bully bosses. At 36, I still think about those things, but life has become less about “Getting stuff and fitting in with the people you don’t want to hang out with anyway” and more about realizing that I held the map to the buried treasure called “happiness” in my hands at age 8. Have as much fun and adventure as possible and if you end up with a wonky eye, just get glasses and sail onward, mateys. Thar be exciting, uncharted waters ahead, says I.

Reach DCP freelance writer Jason Webber at JasonWebber@DaytonCityPaper.com.

By Jason Webber

Jason Webber dressed as Adam Ant (remember him?) for a Halloween gone by.

Keep your Independence Day, your Thanksgiving, and especially your Christmas (humbug!). Of the 365 days that make up the Gregorian calendar, there’s only one holiday that really matters — Halloween.

As I type this, I have a jack-o-lantern-worthy smile and some killer pumpkin stencils to boot. Why am I so happy? Because the best holiday in the world is finally less than a week away. Even though I have been going all month long like Jack Skellington on Red Bull, I still have so much to do, so many places to go and so many pleasures left in which to partake. I’ve got my costume all figured out; a lady friend and I are dressing up as Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungeon, complete with a bloody knife and fake syringes. This year I was late in beginning my costume ponderings — I started in June. Next year, I must remind myself to be more punctual.

I know what you’re thinking — “This guy’s nuts.” And yes, furrowed-brow reader, I am. I am positively nuts about Halloween. Call it what you wish — All Souls Day, Satan’s Holiday, All Hallows Eve, even get Agatha Christie on me and spell it Hallowe’en — just so long as you call it what it is: the one day of the year where insanity is not only tolerated — it’s encouraged. A Halloween costume party magically breaks down social barriers and classes. I’ve witnessed stuck up Tracy Flick-types (Dayton sure has a lot of them, sheesh) move across a room to pay a costume-compliment to someone whom they normally wouldn’t even acknowledge on your average Friday night at Blind Bob’s. If you’re a single person, there’s no better place to meet someone new than a costume party, since everyone’s outfit is a potential conversation starter. See someone who once rejected you for a date?

If your costume conceals your identity enough, go up to your quarry and start chatting him or her up again. If you’re charming enough, you just might change her mind about her previous perceptions of you. Watch the look on her face when you pull off your mask to reveal yourself. It’s crazy, but this tactic does work. I’ve done it. Such is the potency of the Halloween spell.

Sure, there are one or two things I loathe about Halloween. I may be a dirty, amoral perv but even I take issue with the amount of so-called “sexy” costumes that are being marketed to tweens. I hate that most of the classic Halloween specials are seldom shown on network TV anymore (with the glorious exception of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown). And don’t get me started on the evils of the “Fun Size” candy bar. Greg Behrendt said it best: “What’s so fun about a third of a candy bar? How ‘bout next week we ‘Fun Size’ your paycheck?” Yeah, exactly. Preach it, Behrendt.

I’ve only had a handful of truly memorable Christmases, but I can literally remember almost every Halloween I’ve ever celebrated. In ‘87, I was first allowed to go out with my friends without adult supervision, and while we didn’t get up to any mischief or misdeeds, we did get into a mini-rumble with a rival gang of costumed classmates. Fact: Plastic axes and scythes hurt when used as weapons. I’ll never forget winning first place in a costume contest back in ‘98 when I was dressed as Austin Powers — 200 shagadelic dollars, baby!

Three years ago, I dressed as Adam Ant and was dismayed by how few people recognized me (one dimwit asked me, “Are you supposed to be Michael Jackson?”). Then there was the Halloween That Wasn’t. In ‘89, my parents heard a rumor from a televangelist in a bad brown suit that on Halloween night, the Satanic underground was going to sacrifice hundreds of children as a blood offering to The Guy With the Horns. My folks actually believed this completely balderdash urban legend and were so terrified of me being kidnapped by a creepy pied piper in an Ozzy t-shirt that they forbade me from going out trick-or-treating. Considering I had a bitchin’ Joker costume that year, I was genuinely pissed. Wasting a costume is just as sinful as throwing away food or wearing Abercrombie & Fitch after age 30.

But these days, my Halloweens are more fun than ever. Two years ago, I spent my first Halloween season in Dayton and came away thoroughly impressed. I have to say, Masquerage may be the best organized costume party I’ve ever attended. Great food, glorious drag queens, non-watered down drinks — divine! And take it from a seasoned haunted house veteran who has been to spooky attractions in five states — Dayton does Halloween horror right. The Haunted Cave in Lewisburg provides genuine chills, particularly since you have real bats circling overhead, and that new Butcher House on Wayne Avenue is a gory good time. In between parties, I’ve been staying in the ghoulish spirit by celebrating the fact that you can now hear “Thriller,” “Ghostbusters” and “Monster Mash” played regularly on even the lamest of radio stations. Every Tuesday evening, I get together with my pals to watch horror films and I imagine I’ll probably do my dead-on Bela Lugosi impression at least once on karaoke night before the season of the witch is up. I also need to stock up on boxes of Boo Berry and Count Chocula, considering you can only find them in the cereal aisle this time of year. I’m loving the festival of vampire movies playing at the Neon every Monday night at 7:30 (be there on Halloween for a screening of The Lost Boys). And I guess maybe I should plan to drop in on a Halloween party that I know a former friend will be attending and see if we can shake hands and call a truce. As Tim Curry sang in The Worst Witch: “Anything can happen on Halloween.” And it usually does. And that’s why I love it so much. Happy haunting!

Reach DCP freelance writer Jason Webber at JasonWebber@DaytonCityPaper.com.