Scorpio for a Day

Time for a break from the PsychKicks posts to replay some seasonal favorites. Enjoy!

A Little Halloween Humor

© 2009 - 2017 by Joyce Mason. All Rights Reserved

Back when I was growing up boomer in the 1950s and ‘60s, there was this schmaltzy show called Queen for a Day. On its nostalgic website, Queen is described as an early rags-to-riches reality show. Broadcasting live from the historic theatre-restaurant, Moulin Rouge, in Hollywood, each episode would consist of three to four women competing to become Queen for a Day. The women revealed their most personal stories to the American public. Audience members then decided which woman’s story was most heart wrenching (by use of the applause-o-meter) and the winner was crowned Queen for a Day.


Well, that may be fine for a Leo down on her luck who actually managed to swallow her pride, but it gave me an idea about Halloween. Halloween is the one day a year we can all be Scorpios for a day! It’s even expected of us! Then I got to thinking: How would each sign of the zodiac “do Scorpio?” Naturally, some signs might be more predisposed to Scorpio’s well-known darkness, power tripping, and sex mania. (OK, to be fair, their extreme depth and natural abilities to transform themselves.) Here’s my best guess on what this masquerade party would look like. I’d call it my Halloween Scorp-Off. You’re invited. Please comment if you have other costume ideas!


Aries: Rams love sharp objects. Combine their ruler Mars with Scorpio’s, Pluto, and you have a recipe for torture and death by knives and other sharp objects. Since they are so often attracted to their opposite, Libra, this is your chance to impersonate a carnival knife thrower with the quaking Libra as the “hope-he’ll-Miss.” It would even be more hilarious and astrologically pointed if in a traditional role reversal with a female Aries throwing knives at a male Libra. The juxtaposition of it just makes me tingle! If you’d rather fly solo and very much on the dark side, you can go as Dexter, the CSI turned serial thrill killer who loves to implement comeuppance on the “bad” serial killers. Not to forget, its star, Michael C. Hall, got a lot of experience at death’s door playing an undertaker in Six Feet Under. Don’t forget your CSI kit or medical bag, especially the scalpels and other "possibilities."

Taurus: To be creepy yet pretty for their Venus sensibilities, I suggest a wartless, high-fashion witch or wizard, the kind that eats little children. After all, we know how those Tauri like their snacks. (Heads-up and no Bull! You can still find nostalgic chocolate babies candy—still a sick idea to me today—to carry in your portable cauldron to sink your sweet tooth into and add to the full effect.)

Gemini: Women, dress as Sybil or any other multi-personality maniac and morph dramatically all night. Men might wear a dark cape and one of those creepy masks that has a face on both the back and front. To be witty and symbolic, perhaps the faces are comedy and tragedy—or any pair of opposites, like Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker or George Bush and Barack Obama.

Cancer: It’s difficult for any Cancer, male or female, to play an anti-nurturer, but do it s/he must. It’s Halloween! A women Cancer can bring her date to play her adult son and come as the domineering, evil mom in The Manchurian Candidate. (I love the original version with Angela Lansbury and have not yet seen the more recent, Meryl Streep version. These normally nice ladies prove anyone can be diabolical when acting.) There are many potential characters in the mean mother genre, including Mommy Dearest, Fay Dunaway’s portrayal of Joan Crawford who apparently would not get the normal Cancer’s Mom of the Year Award. Men Cancers might play the evil nurturer more literally and come with various candy pills or powders to slip into people’s drinks, while having ready a string of statements said straight-faced and kindly, such as, “Drink this, my friend. It’ll take any pressure off for being the life of the party.” Or carry fake poisons carried in a Halloween bucket; position the bucket near someone’s foot before saying, “I made this just for you. You’ll get such a kick out of it.” Or you could come smeared in fake blood and grease, carry a skillet and a carving knife, look mean, and be a contestant on Iron Chef (especially good for those who also have a dose of Aries in their charts). For the mother/child relationship gone bad, a couple could play Norman in Psycho and his deceased mom.

Leo: Since both Leo and Scorpio tend to be high-drama signs, this is a natural. Except for the part where sunny Leo has to be “made in the shade.” Since that has a Tony Soprano ring to it, a thug and/or his moll would be the perfect get-up. Leos like to be the center of attention, so he or she could also choose a very limelighty model of mayhem, like Bonnie or Clyde or maybe Al Capone. Girl Lions: How about some real juicy historical murderer like Lucretia Borgia? You’re so fiery; a pyromaniac would be a good choice, too. (Watch those matches.)

Virgo: Poor Virgo would only come to this party with a gun pointed at her head. Not a bad idea. Virgo brings a partner to play the nutcase. As Virgos live to serve, she’s glad to be his victim and knows she also simply must agree to be his sex slave. She arrives at the party in a tasteful, but somewhat revealing submissive costume—preferably, one of those little maid outfits. You know how Virgos love to clean! She will be handcuffed to the perpetrator who will wave his gun around makes her say witty, suggestive things at his direction about what he plans to do with her later. (Anyone who reads The Radical Virgo should be onto the fact that Virgos are really earthy babes with big libidos looking for the right person to do it with.) Guy Virgos: Come as Adrian Monk and try to solve the cases of murder and mayhem rampant in this den of iniquity. Your date can play your assistant, either Natalie or Sharona, depending on personality type. Don’t forget the wipes!

Libra: This sign may have the most difficulty of anyone at this party, because it’s so hard to be nice all the time and be Scorpio. (Sorry, Scorps.) Since they rarely function solo, Libras should attend this “do” with a Scorpio bent on luring them out of their comfort zone. This will not be difficult, as we know Libras are the “yes, dears” of the zodiac. Other partygoers can let out their inner Scorpio as we watch this poor thing become more and more embarrassed and humiliated by her next-door neighbor in the zodiacal pie. (Diabolical laugh.) If she has a costume, she should play someone from a wholesome, nice era of history, like Mrs. C. on Happy Days.

Scorpio: Well, you could come as yourself, of course. Or you could come as a Double Scorpio. After all, being a Scorpio playing a Scorpio—imagine the possibilities! You could impersonate countless famous, fictitious killers, menaces, or sexpots. (Stay away from criminals still living or too recent to avoid turning fun into something truly chilling.) Ideas: Jack the Ripper (give it a playful twist and rip rags near the ear of women you’re trying to seduce), King Kong in an ape costume with a sexy little doll he can menace while not jumping on furniture or threatening to abduct the actual women at the party. (“Wanna come back to my skyscraper and see my etchings?”) Or how ‘bout the ultimate Scorpionic character, Dr. Frank-N-Furter in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Female Scorpios can do the Scorpio overdose as a dominatrix politician, who runs around the party with a ballot box, forcing you to vote for her in the costume contest on penalty of painful consequences, if you dare resist. Then there’s my favorite, a running pun. Dress in black with white body paint or any washable liquid resembling milk splashed all over yourself. (Don’t forget your milk mustache.) Carry a big bowl of shredded wheat and give it manic stabs every few minutes with a butcher knife. Yep, a Cereal Killer.

Sagittarius: Take the Sag love of travel. Add a little Scorpio. Voilà! Come as a travel agent to dark places: any one of several global torture device museums or traveling displays; the creepy, abandoned Alcatraz whose walls still quiver with the bad vibes of its criminal inhabitants past; or kinky sex cruises. (I refuse to provide links. Go Google yourself.) Be sure to have plenty of flyers as take-homes to distribute at this gala. Dress in black with old-fashioned luggage labels plastered on your shirt, advertising your ports of crawl. Or make your get-up look like the typical tourist with a twist: loud Hawaiian shirt in blood red with people-eating plants, à la Little Shop of Horrors, rounded off with a lei of bones.

Capricorn: Given Capricorn’s well-known issues with control, the consummate Halloween job for this executive type playing Scorpio is Inquisitor or chief torturer from the Inquisition. (Get with Sag for details and that museum link for the easiest medieval torture devices you can replicate as props. There are even more gory ones to Google, but my Libra planets can’t bear it.) It’d be good to bring a date whose head and hands are locked in homemade stocks to drag around and threaten. Or you could live on the edge of life and death with your money as a cruel mogul or greedy financier. (Caps do love dough!). How ‘bout plastering money—play or real--all over you, and saying often, “My money? Not on your life.” It could get playfully nasty if someone tries to nab one of your greenbacks.

Aquarius: Scorpio and Aquarius both can be kinky in their own way. Leave it to Aquarius to do Scorpio to the most outrageous degree. Since Aquarius rules electricity, s/he might come as the executioner, ready to place a hood over the other party-goers, then “juice” him with one of those gag buzzer devices, the kind you shock someone with when you shake hands. (You should have at least two, one for each hand to make the shock worth your time.) Anything that gives them a good jolt will do without doing any real harm. Aquarius can camp it up with frizzed hair and a Doctor Death t-shirt. In terms of live astrodrama, s/he could offer frequently throughout the night to put Libra out of her misery.

Pisces: This act must involve drugs—or, at minimum, lots of smoke and mirrors. The first character that comes to mind is The Gypsy Queen from the rock opera, Tommy. (Can’t lose. Substances and music, blending a Pisces theme with a Scorpio character. Whee!) Here are the Tina Turner visuals on the ultimate version! Suggestion: find the biggest, fattest calking syringe at Home Depot (or several) and insert the longest nail you can find on the end. Maybe supplement it with candy “acid.” Carry paraphernalia and fake drugs in a little medicine pouch. Alternatively, if you’re clever and handy enough to execute making an “acid chamber,” as in this video, you’ll win the costume contest, hands and hypodermics down! (Men, it can be a Gypsy King just as easily, barely changing a word of the lyrics. Carry your iPod/ speakers and dance around the party to this diabolically Scorpio ditty, injecting some spirit into it!)

Happy Halloween!

Although my tongue is planted so far into my cheek in this article I’m sure I’ve sprained it (good thing I’m typing not talking), I think there are still some seriously good costume ideas in this Scorpio for a Day (make that Night) Show. Don’t forget to make voting for the best costume part of the party, complete with applause-o-meter! Let me know if you try it. Disclaimer: The Radical Virgo will not be held responsible for any results. Play a Scorpio at your own risk!


~~~

Photo credit: Halloween falls... © James Thew | Fotolia.com



Want more costume fun? I love Halloween and costumes. For more inspiration, read Incognito: Costumes and Other Cheap Thrills on my other blog, Hot Flashbacks, Cool Insights.

Lessons from My Creep-o-Meter

Article © 2008 – 20013 by Joyce Mason

All Rights Reserved

During October, The Radical Virgo is hosting some of my favorite posts from my other blog, Hot Flashbacks, Cool Insights. See announcement. 

Even though I was born just hours after author Stephen King, I have no taste for anything too creepy. In 1973, I saw two movies that sent my Creep-o-Meter into overdrive.

It was before I moved to the Left Coast. I was visiting from Wisconsin, on vacation to see my poetry editor/ love interest in San Francisco. He suggested we see the movie, Play Misty for Me. Remembering the beautiful song "Misty" by Johnny Mathis, I figured it was a love story. Turned out to be the Fatal Attraction of its time, the tale of a woman fan obsessed with a DJ, played by Clint Eastwood, also in his directorial debut. The suspense and slow revelation of his stalker’s mental imbalance sucked me in and scared me in the most visceral way. I wanted to crawl under the seat or inside my date’s jacket. I never considered seeing Fatal Attraction after the indelible impression Play Misty left on me. I was deeply weirded out by this movie and cannot erase some of the scenes from my mind to this day. Some people, who have seen them both, think Misty is actually creepier than Fatal Attraction. Misty starts out seeming like the love story I expected—then the twist. I didn’t mind doing the Twist in the ‘50s, but movies that were too twisted didn’t play well for me in any decade.

Then there was Harold and Maude. It opens with young Harold in a bloody suicide attempt--slashed wrists--then minutes later, Harold’s mom walks into another room to find he has hang himself. She remains sarcastic and unflustered, and soon we learn the joke is on us. Harold stages all these death scenes—now we know they’re fake—in a desperate attempt to connect with dear old Mom. I almost walked out until I recognized it as a dark comedy. I was glad I stayed the course, because this cult classic endeared itself to me, living on the border of life and death and total unpredictability. It scared, then delighted me. I cannot think of this movie without reliving the hilarious scene where a priest tries to counsel Harold about of his “unholy” relationship with Maude, old enough to be his great-grandmother. He imagines out loud, in increasing verbal crescendo, the commingling of his young, firm flesh and hers—wrinkled and sagging. I apologize in advance if I hurt the feelings of any baby boomer readers, in case this hits home too closely. (I meant robbing the cradle, of course, not the wrinkles.)

I have had many personal encounters with people and things that are not as they seem, and learning to deal with these scary surprises seems to be one of the great skills we acquire as we accumulate birthdays. There are the milder forms of the unexpected—the relationships we imagine through our rose-colored glasses to be soulmate material when they are really a joke on us for not seeing every red flag the love object is waving in our face, not even attempting to be dishonest. “Oh, the lies we tell for the sake of love!” Especially to ourselves. Or so goes the opening line of a poem I wrote that amuses me still for my moment of clarity while swimming in that much self-delusion.

Back at the cinema, from these two movies emerge two distinct kinds of unpleasant surprises. Play Misty for Me is an encounter with true danger, something to be avoided at all costs and to run from the minute you see the switch from Jekyll to Hyde or you get the scent of something that gives you goose bumps. Before online dating, I sometimes tried the local singles ads. I connected with a man so smooth; I actually agreed to meet him for the first time at his home—very risky. A switch flipped inside me during one of our conversations, and I called him and backed out. I said if he wanted to meet me, it’d have to be in a public place the first time. I just wasn’t comfortable on a first encounter any other way.

When we met at a restaurant, he chose to have more than one drink, and in the middle of a sentence, his Evil Other emerged. He criticized me unmercifully for not keeping my word about coming to his house—just the warm-up for an onslaught of verbal battering. It was amazing to me that I had given him so much ammunition and personal information in our phone conversations to turn against me. He glommed onto my strong sense of integrity, knowing that the worse thing he could accuse me of is not being forthright or true to my promise. I walked out, fuming, mostly at myself for being so vulnerable, but not without having the last word, which I threw over my shoulder, “You have just proven why I made the right decision not to go anywhere near your house.”

Harold and Maude, on the other hand, represents the experience that seems a little strange at first, but something inside you knows there’s a hitch—some incongruity just sucks you in. Like Harold’s mother acting irritated with his “suicide attempts” instead of screaming or calling the paramedics. Ironically, I almost left Harold and Maude faster than my brush with the singles-ads weirdo and my own potential Looking for Mr. Goodbar. There’s another movie I avoided, knowing it would be too scary for me to see—especially considering the risks I probably had no idea I was taking during my “bar phase” in my twenties.

We all have an internal alarm system that will keep us out of harm’s way, if we choose to hear it, but sometimes it conflicts with our desire to keep an open mind—or the way too open heart, eager to find love anywhere. If you feel a chill up your spine or witness any kind of behavior that seems “off” when you really don’t know someone well, that’s the time to run, not walk to the nearest exit.

On the other hand, if something is tickling your funny bone or you can remind yourself it’s “just a movie,” maybe a touch of the creeps is a relatively cheap thrill worth the occasional indulgence. I admit it. I have an approach-avoidance conflict to the bizarre as witnessed by my love of the cult TV show, Twin Peaks and movies like Fargo. I can take dark drama/comedy, no matter how bizarre, as long as there is a lot of comic relief. Often these flicks or shows are too crazy to be real—and somehow the humor dilutes the horror. For the same reason, I’m a fan of the “cocktail mysteries” by J.A. Konrath.

Life without a skipped heartbeat now ‘n’ then might be just a bit too boring for the generation that grew up in the era of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. And, for me, before that, who grew up on Shock Theatre every Saturday night. I thought I had the most liberal parents on earth in the 1950s because they didn’t censor my viewing and allowed Marvin and “Dear” to baby-sit me for a couple hours each weekend.

Meanwhile, ready, set, go—trick or treat! May all your things that go bump in the night be imaginary, not real.

Happy Halloweird!

Are you on The Radical Virgo mailing list? If not, join in the upper right of the sidebar to be part of a drawing on Halloween for a signed copy of Golden Prose & Poetry, which contains Joyce's short-story, "Cruel Embroidery." It reminds some people of a modern-day Salem witch trial, just in time for All Hallow's Eve. 

Incognito: Costumes and Other Cheap Thrills

Gilda from Planet Glitz

© 2008 – 20013 by Joyce Mason

All Rights Reserved

During October, The Radical Virgo is hosting some of my favorite posts from my other blog, Hot Flashbacks, Cool Insights. See announcement. 

I have always loved costumes and reported in a previous post my penchant for getting up like Auntie Mame, the Purple People Eater, and a Christmas Tree, among other alter egos.

As most of you know, my first mystery novel, coming out next month, is set at a costume affair called The Crystal Ball. It’s the silver anniversary of a longevity organization in San Francisco. The revelers are invited to come as you will be in the next 25 years. You have no idea how much fun I’m having with that! I can invent costumes without regard to the problem I have in real life—mechanical execution. For example, Micki Michaels, the protagonist and head of IOPEA, the  Immortalists on Planet Earth Association, attends the bash as a DNA molecule. That one was a lot easier to pull off in print than in person. As to the rest of the party-goers, think the bar scene in Star Wars and a lot of other highly original characters.

What is it about costume parties, costume balls, and dressing up that gives us a cheap thrill like no other? In fact, the longstanding costume shop from the hippy dippy heyday of Sacramento is called Cheap Thrills. It remains a local cultural icon.

Psychology of Costumes
 
No question in my mind will remain unanswered a click away from Google. It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to know that our choice of costume says something about us. However, I found a fascinating exercise proposed for teachers of clinical psychology. In a way, that’s all of us. Life is the clinic! The exercise: (1) Write down costumes you have worn in the past, (2) Write the costumes you’d like to wear in the future—then, (3) Let others in a class setting (or a gathering of family or friends) tell you what costumes they’d choose for you. Do I want to know?

I even found suggested costumes for introverts! Again, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that introverts don’t like being the center of attention, but certain costumes are easier to hide behind than others. Or bestow a bit of of the brazen. And for those of you who want some costume interpretations without thinking too hard, click here for some expert opinions from a psychologist.

My Stab at the Costume Exercise
 
1. Costumes Past: You already know I’ve been Auntie Mame, the Purple People Eater, a cosmic cowgirl, and a Christmas tree--and (pictured) Glitta from the Planet Glitz in a Golden Galaxy, dripping gold, not 14-carat.

2. Costumes Future: I decided I had to write down my pure desires, regardless of how ridiculous I might look in these get-ups at my current age, weight, etc. Try not to laugh too hard: trapeze artist, ballerina, CSI (complete with disposable gloves and that nifty specimen collection kit), and a private eye (beige trench coat and sunglasses). I suppose these all make sense, as I try to keep my balance while navigating the mysteries of life.

3. How My Friends Would Dress Me Up. Several of them were game! I just sent them an e-mail. Here’s are some of the surprising results with my parenthetical reactions:

• I could see you in a Dorothy costume with cute little Toto in tow. (I hope it’s only my wide-eyed wonder of a child and my tendency toward glitzy accessories. I’d kill for those sparkly red shoes!) Yes, plus your persistence to get to your goal and help get others there, too, and to overcome obstacles and pick up friends along the way that are definitely not mainstream thinkers… which is a good thing! All of the Joseph Campbell mythic journey is wrapped up in the one little story... you’re living it!
• I am not sure what costume I can see you wearing, but one of my favorite all- time costumes is a clear trash bag filled with colored balloons and the person inside wearing a leotard and tights in a bright color – and they are a bag of Jelly Bellies! (You were channeling! I love Jelly Bellies!)
• Don’t laugh…I can see you in an Elvira costume. Also, Lily Tomlin as the little girl with the big lollypop. (I’m nothing if not versatile.)

 Now, don’t you just have to try this for yourself?

All-Time Favorite Costume Ideas and Incidents

I tend to be most impressed with costumes that are objects of some sort. I think it’s much easier to portray a person—I already am one—than a thing. Morphing into an animated object takes real talent. One costume that caught my eye was someone in a paper box crafted as a traffic light, complete with ovals of changing colors—Go, Caution, STOP!

Here’s my most hilarious costume incident. Our neighbor down the street, a fun guy, but never known to be on the bold side, showed up early on Halloween night as an adult trick-or-treater. He was wearing one of my coveted costumes—a trench coat—only he had a different job in mind for it. As I opened the door, he ripped opened his coat like the proverbial dirty old man played by Arte Johnson on Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In. His exposé revealed a large salami and two rounds of cheese hanging from his belt. (He was otherwise fully clothed.)

He got the last surprise when he stepped across the threshold and saw that he had just “exposed himself” to my sixty-something mother-in-law. A proper lady, Mom fortunately had a great sense of humor, but she still couldn’t put Paul at ease, who skulked home, embarrassed about his flashdance.

Probably the most clever costume party I ever heard of was called a Cocktail Party, and it was literal to its name. It happened in Wisconsin in the ‘70s. People came dressed as cocktails. I can only imagine the Harvey Wallbanger. I would have gone as a mint green Grasshopper. There was a Pink Lady, a Tequila Sunrise, and my favorite—six people who walked in together with a big brown box around them, bottle caps on their heads—a six-pack! Contest: Tell me how we’d adapt this to modern day. How would Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, or Charlotte from Sex & the City dress up like a Cosmo? I can’t begin to imagine where this would take one of my favorite bloggers, the Martini Diva, but I know she’ll Comment and tell your herself! (Sex on the Beach-a-tini would, no doubt, be the life of the Cocktail Party!)

Sacred/Secular

Like Day of the Dead that follows it on November 1, Halloween is a mixture of the sacred and secular--of life and death. Overall, the holiday has become highly commercialized and more people, adults included, are into decorating and dressing up. Seasonal costume shops are cropping up on more corners. For those sensitive to it, there is no denying that All Hallow’s Eve is a night where the veil between worlds is thin.

Halloween is a celebration of the hidden mysteries of life and the mystery of our own multifaceted natures—the parts still hidden inside us. As you get ready for this annual night of tricks, sugar rush, and brushing elbows with ghosts and goblins, see what you discover about yourself in the fun, in the disguise—in the touch of the forbidden—in the magic.


~~~

Photo: Joyce as Gilda from the Planet Glitz, some Halloween in the late 1980s.


Are you on The Radical Virgo mailing list? If not, join in the upper right of the sidebar to be part of a drawing on Halloween for a signed copy of Golden Prose & Poetry, which contains Joyce's short-story, "Cruel Embroidery." It reminds some people of a modern-day Salem witch trial, just in time for All Hallow's Eve.