Back in my day, Halloween was simple.
You put on a mask that smelled like the inside of a rubber tire, grabbed a pillowcase, and headed into the neighborhood with one goal in mind: get as much candy as humanly possible before somebody’s porch light went off.
Nobody had a fog machine. Nobody had a 12-foot skeleton crawling out of the roof. Nobody had a front yard that looked like the set of a low-bud…