Halloween is for lovers.

Halloween is for lovers, lovers of every possible walk of life and character imaginable. The dead guy, the zombie, Bride of Frankenstein, Oprah, Lizzie Borden, the gang of kids bludgeoned in the face, the headless horseman; cheerleaders, nerds, Barbra Walters, mimes, Richard Nixon, fairy princesses, Kim Jong Un, Robocop, M&Ms, Helen Keller, RuPaul, a banana split; a donkey, an emu, Ghandhi, Jesus Christ, Eraserhead, Mr. T, the guys from Erasure (okay, not really); the blank check, the chef, Michael Jackson, Liza Minelli, Cher, The Warriors, Mother Teresa, hot dogs, The Hoff and—dare I say—a witch. Halloween is for all of them.

And so today, dear lovers, embrace that which you love and hold tight to the spirit of enthusiastic freedom that lets you, me and everyone out there paste a bloody, puss-filled gash across our faces and hit the streets. Go forth and be ridiculous.