The Hyper-Commercialization of Halloween

Greetings, America.

It won't be long now until the pundits, fundits and screaming heads of television have their immaculately ironed Brooks Brothers boxers in a bunch over the commercialization of Christmas. They'll decry our consumer culture's emphasis on gifts, blaming the godless, hyper-liberal, left-wing media that has driven us to this point. And that's one way to go, I guess.

Personally, I blame the Magi. Even before the advent of Christmas, these gold-knuckled giftsters and would-be present presenters began their journey to subvert the universe's holiest day into the wealth-swaddled mega corp known as Christmas, Inc. (Not to be confused with Disney's ill-fated attempt at child trafficking, Kids Incorporated.)

But Christmas is a decoy. So let's wisen up and get our priorities straight. Historically, Halloween predates Christmas by approximately two months. So first things first.

You've no doubt noticed that Halloween Fever (a.k.a. H1F1) has descended upon our beloved nation, and our descent into pre-December indecency and moral decimation is all but decided.

Everywhere you look it's crazy costumes, haunted houses, devilish desserts, dastardly décor, 17-hour all-you-can-binge drink tickets and corn mazes to tickle our homophone-loving humeri. And nowhere amidst this carnival of commercialism do you hear about the very traditional foundations of this hallowed holiday-- the institution of family and type 2 diabetes.

What happened to the good old days when Halloween was about going to an All Saints Day midnight mass and having the fear of God Bible-beaten into you? Or trick-or-treating to a few neighborhood homes to collect a moderate, tasteful amount of candy to snack on measuredly and responsibly until Christmas? And then visiting the Hinsdale Hospital emergency room to have all 26 pieces meticulously x-rayed for razor blades, rohypnol and NutraSweet?

The Nate Winter of 1985 would scarcely recognize Halloween 2009. In fact, my most assured reactions would be bed wetting and shame, my reactions to most things at that age. This purely subjective and unprovable speculation is as sure a sign as any that today's Halloween has lost sight of its past (perhaps due to an ill-fitting mask). And the only way to restore the sanctity of Halloween and strike fear in the hearts of the offending corporate villainy is with swift, rash, unchecked radicalism. Fear not, I'm working on a plan for that as we speak.

-- Nate Winter

Screwgina— A Libational Exercise in Perfection -- by Nate WInter

Intoxication Month carries on in jolly-good fashion with a drink recipe for the ages. Pinkies up!

THE DRINK

We’re all all-too familiar with the primordial concoction known as the screwdriver (vodka, addendum orange juice). Thankfully, the best of us no longer have to brush our finely spun eight-gauge cashmere against the hoi polloi’s greasy elbows to enjoy a drink that’s bold and citrusy. The Screwgina, known as the “giner” in Yale (i.e. low-brow) circles, is subtly akin to the screwdriver, but substitutes Orangina for the national brand liquid orange product. The Screwgina is a lighter, classier and sincerely more formidable alternative.

The immaculately refreshing drink for warm, sunny weather has arrived. Today’s forecast: positively splendid!

THE INGREDIENTS

Vodka. Respectfully use a premium grade vodka. Ketel One, Grey Goose, and the like are optimal. And kindly check the label— be sure you have a plain vodka, nothing flavored s’il vous plait. One citrus flavor per drink is sufficient— this isn’t Bartles & James after all. Have some respect. And a palate.

Orangina. We’re vaguely aware that there are other sparkling citrus sodas out there. But for those of us who know the hourly worth of our leisure time, let’s not philander with the hired help. Be civilized and embrace the genuine article: Orangina. It’s delicious, embarrassingly inexpensive and quite frankly puts the “gina” in “Screwgina.” Accept no imitations. Orangina’s 8 oz. bottles are preciously adorable, but a breuvage of this calibre calls for Orangina’s one litre bottle.

Glass. Presentation is important, so set your libation sensation up for success with a clear rocks glass. A low, wide glass is appropriate for the potency of this drink and allows the carbonation to properly effervesce.

Stirrer. Typical stirring fare— toothpicks, plastic swords, coffee stirrers, spoons— have no magic to stir men’s blood, or our Screwginas. Let’s opt for a longer wooden stirrer, or the holiday-apt parapluie (ella, ella, ay). It’s like Mary Poppins with a boozy twist! (And none of that dreadful Dick Van Dyke. What fun!)

THE PROCESS

Chill. We can’t have tepid vodka, now can we? It simply must be chilled. On ice is best. In the fridge or ice box (unless already crowded with Heinie) is also suitable. Chill Orangina likewise. Chilled ingredients eliminate the need for ice, which melts and then waters down our buzz, now doesn’t it? Yes, it does.

Shake. Shake Orangina in its bottle to activate the carbonation. The energentic fizzing adds to the gustatory delight and speeds our vodka’s most precious export to the soul/bloodstream.

Combine. The recommended ratio of vodka to Orangina is 1:2 or 1:2 1/2. Your exact preference may depend on the weather, the tide or the market’s closing numbers.

Mix. Give a spirited, top-to-bottom stir after pouring, and then again before each sip. Orangina is light as a citrusy feather; vodka… less so. The weight differential tends to relegate vodka toward the bottom of the glass, making for an uneven mix. Use your stirrer to homogenize the solution and reactivate some of Orangina’s carbonation. Yes, there’s a bit of up-keep required here. But great drinks, like great women, require maintenance. And expensive vodka.

Enjoy. Sip proudly and joyously. Life is your Screwgina, so drink it in. And don’t forget— pinkies up!

THE AFTERMATH

Enjoying a cheery series of Screwginas in the Hamptons one Saturday night inexplicably made my business substantially larger for a single sexual episode come Sunday morning. Granted, it was a touch peculiar, but I’m not complaining (neither was the Mrs.). Just as the Orangina bottle says, “Shake it to wake it!”

Pimm’s: consolation for the hollow hearts of rogues and harlots,

Nate

-- by Nate WInter