Flavio's delirious PunkinPalooza vision...

Have you ever wanted to carve a pumpkin so badly that the desire was oozing out of you like saltwater from a gasping fish, flopping mortally on the dock? No, perhaps not. But have you ever wanted to carve a pumpkin, just for the sheer love of the gourd and the treat-and-trickery?

Then come to Punkinpalooza 2005, a celebration of all that's weird and wonderful in the universe, and a recognition that pumpkins exists only to be hacked to pieces by the endearing band of gourd-throttling lunatics I call my housemates and compatriots. Pumpkins do exist, my dear friends, and after Sat Oct 29 they will exist in a completely different state: one of near-total annihilation, pulpy and stringy, reincarnated as art. For a wise man once came up to me, fingered my jack o lantern and offered twelve bucks to tell him a story about Hallowe’en. That man’s name was Ira Cronenburg and he is my best friend in the whole world.

Come to Punkinpalooza 2005 and I will offer you waffles, I will give you much tasty burger and so many pieces of bacon until you fill the entire room with the stupendous girth of your waddling tonnage. The world will snap in half when you look at it and many people will offer to truck you down to the harpoon yards thinking that you are in fact a great blue whale, and such will be your bliss that you will accept. Yours will be the ocean to languish in and many tourists will pay money to snap digital photos of you safe at a distance from their saltwater barges.

Come to Punkinpalooze 2005 and listen to the dulcet sugary music of a band called Vakum, which in fact is a pun of some sort, and a good one. Vakum will delight your ears and water your eyes. Vakum will come to the fore in your life-weltz and in fact be pre-eminent which is not something I can guaranteee to the rest of civilization. Vakum will play Punkinpalooza 2005 and it will be triumph of such legendary calibrations that fish will jump out of the water at the appointed hour and flop willingly into the fisherman's net in hope of being grilled and roasted along with so many pumpkin seeds. And when the Punkins are done they will be beautiful. Indeed punkins will scream forth from the rafters, vibrating with their well-carved visages, and prizes shall be distributed to him or her whose jacko has outshone all others, for prizes exist to reward the brilliant and guarantee success to the diligent. For when a man has carved a pumpkin he is doing the work of shepherds, smiths and sages, and there is much smiling upon Olympus. A great thing it is to witness a pumpkin hacked to bits, a mighty thing indeed to behold the lighting of that candle within its smiling grinning gourdlike superficie. As a wise man once came to me and said, 'Tis the time of harvest, when men must smash their pumpkins - so gather those patches that are ripe and fertile and inaugurate a ballroom of Amazement.' That man's name was O'Cyrus P Doggles, and he is my pet fish Charlie's veterinarian. I will refer to him often because he is the emcee for the upcoming festivities.

Come to Punkinpalooza 2005 and drink from the trough of abundance - wine will flow like pumpkin juice, and pumpkins will flow like water, and that water will be as smooth as ice. It will be a grand moment for the happy, and a bewildering moment for the serious, and all men and women shall gaze upon the living room of the Chateau and thank Allah that the Age was so enlightened. We shall praise the heavens and sing hosannas, and there will be much wetting of floors with the effusiveness of tears.

Thank you and see you at the brunch.

~Bonhomme