In which a veteran of cultural studies seminars in the 1990s moves into academic administration and finds himself a married suburban father of two. Foucault, plus lawn care.
The Girl dressed as a Tootsie Roll, and The Boy as a Jawa from Star Wars.
They were endearing, but not scary. I had front door duty.
Fears change, with age. If I were to dress up as something really scary, I might go as:
- The Program That Wouldn’t Die. I’d be a zombie with low enrollments, high fixed costs, a powerful ally, and a political minefield. “Funds! Eat Funds!”
- MOOCman. 90 percent of my costume would be missing by the end of the night, since that’s their attrition rate.
- Hatchet Harry, the Human Budget Cut. Picture a really angry accountant wearing a tricorner hat, like the Tea Partiers. Or maybe Santa Claus with a suit on backwards, to symbolize a midyear budget cut.
- The Politician with a Brilliant Idea. I’d have a lightbulb suspended over a dunce cap.
- An Extended Power Outage. Dress all in black. It’s a New York reference twice.
- A standardized test. I could wrap myself in bubble wrap, popping one out of every four bubbles randomly.
- A glob of cholesterol. It might put a damper on the whole ‘candy’ thing, though.
- A home contractor. I’d show up, then leave unexplained for weeks, then show up again, then vanish again, leaving an awful mess in my wake.
- An “Explanation of Benefits” from an HMO. I’d wear a twisted glob of spaghetti that doesn’t smell quite right.
- Comcast! I could dress, and walk, like Mr. Magoo.
- My hairline. But I wouldn’t want to get arrested for indecent exposure.
Wise and worldly readers, what costume would you find truly scary?
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Anthropology Open Rank (Assistant, Associate, or Professor) of Anthropology in the College of Liberal Arts