Diablo, age 1.

Back in August this blog introduced Diablo, “my cute little puppy from hell.”

Mischievous and troublesome from the moment he arrived home, the black-and-tan Dobie was a replacement for my irreplaceable red Doberman, Ramses, who died much too young this past summer. (To this day, I still miss him.)

“Little Diablo” hailed from a European sire who weighed in at 110 pounds, so the new pup was destined to become the new Big Dog of the house. Sure enough, here he is pausing from a first-birthday training romp at Pasadena’s Rose Bowl Park, already pushing 90 pounds. Huge as he is, though, Diablo still hasn’t filled out his paws — much to the chagrin of Isis, my demur little 70-pound black-and-tan female, age 7.

Happy first birthday, my big demon pup! Here’s to the many more life adventures that lay ahead!

Tumbleweed snow couple near Elysian Park. Photo: M.Imlay.

The return of these tumbleweed snowmen to Stadium Way can only mean one thing: It’s officially Christmas time in the City of Angels.

It’s amusing how ingrained the concept of a White Christmas is in our pop culture. Even here, at the edge of the Mojave Desert, these are the lengths we’ll go to in “recreating” the idealized winter wonderland.

Perhaps that’s in large part because we’re a region populated by countless East-Coast transplants like a friend of mine, who every year laments that here in Los Angeles we never enjoy a “real” Currier and Ives Christmas like the ones he had back home. (It’s one of the many common complaints East Coasters seem to have about L.A., along with our supposedly “unfriendly” atmosphere, poor public transportation, and the inability to find a “decent” — i.e., New York-style — pizza anywhere.)

Reality Check

On the other hand, I maintain that a SoCal Christmas is just as “authentic” as any commercialized fantasy concocted by Macy’s, Hallmark or those maniacal Rankin/Bass cartoonists — perhaps more so. After all, a good portion of the world never sees snow in December. Count among that number Jesus himself, who was born in Bethlehem, a city that also shares a Mediterranean clime like ours in which snow is rare. Moreover, if you take into account current scholarship that dates his actual birth to spring or possibly summer, there’s not a snowball’s chance in you-know-where that the first Christmas was white.

Photo: Curious Country Creations

And yet for some reason, from California to New Mexico, we denizens of the Southwest still feel an annual compulsion to build snowmen — even if we have to resort to spray-painted tumbleweeds to do it. (Not surprisingly, there are even commercial enterprises ready to help us with the basics for as little as $59.95!) But I’ll happily take a tumbleweed snowman over the “real” variety any day.

The great thing about Southern California is you can visit the snow in the nearby mountains whenever you like without ever worrying that the fluffy wet stuff is going to follow you home.

Or you can do like me, forget about the powder and slush altogether, and just hit the beach instead.

Whatever your preference, here’s to a happy, healthy, traditional SoCal holiday season — clear, balmy, and Santa-Ana breezy, with just enough scattered showers here and there to keep the smog at bay…

Photo: M.Imlay

It’s either the best of wall art or it’s the worst of wall art, depending upon your perspective. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But if you ever needed a demonstration of the self-evident principle that murals mirror the life and cultural assumptions of their respective communities, this is it.

Detail, Temple City mural.

This first mural decorates a small gift shop in the heart of Temple City, the sleepy WASP-ish suburb where I grew up. Murals were never really a part of my former hometown’s tableau, so this one grabbed my attention during a recent visit. I have no idea when it went up, but the painting appears to depict an idealized scene from the area’s formative years as a predominantly Anglo ranching community a century or more ago. Although Temple City has become more Asian in recent years, the old Euro-centric cultural cues remain — this piece might just as easily be a depiction of an English or German country scene.

Viva La Diferencia…

Photo: M.Imlay

As a study in contrasts, the second mural above is a well-known icon found in my current Echo Park, Los Angeles, neighborhood.

Detail, Echo Park mural.

Of course, all murals tell a story, but I much prefer the Latin-themed tales scattered about my “grown-up” neighborhood. More often than not the storytellers here think big and bold, employing vibrant symbols to impart powerful cultural messages and social commentary. Expressive and colorful, their murals are more than mere wall adornments — they exude energy and purpose.

I guess that’s another reason I prefer life in the big city vis-a-vis the suburbs. Up against diverse pieces like this, the few murals you’ll find in my old childhood stomping grounds seem as flat as the walls they’re painted on.

Photo: M. Imlay.

A colorful gate to a community garden catches the morning sun in the Elysian Valley’s Frogtown neighborhood. Just a block or two from the river, this is one of the nicest community gardens I’ve ever stumbled across. Everything is very neatly arranged and tidy, with a well-maintained brick path leading past a variety of fruit trees and other useful plantings. The residents obviously take great pride in their little patch of shared earth.

Incidentally, if you’re a gardener, community or otherwise, check out my friend Hilda Brucker’s new Gardening blog for Gadabout Media. It’s a high-quality site offering expert info and tips.

Anonymous billboard urging boycott. Photo: M. Imlay.

At first I thought this new billboard along Sunset’s 4400 block might be the work of advertising amateurs — or possibly a lone disgruntled customer angry enough to splurge on an outdoor display. The slogan’s catchy enough, but there’s nothing to support the message or make us care. For all we know, the alleged “injustice” is that Vermont Hand Wash stiffs you on air freshener.

And why should Los Feliz, Hollywood and Silver Lake motorists join an anonymous boycott? The billboard offers no sponsor name, no contact number for further information, not even a website to visit. Not very effective advertising.

Thank heavens for Google. Search on “car wash + injustice” and up pops a web page for a group calling itself the Clean Carwash Campaign, currently in organizing and labor disputes with Vermont Hand Wash. The campaign says it’s working to clean up car washes all over L.A., but it’s clear from the website that they’ve narrowed their wrath on the Pirian Family, which owns six washes throughout the area.

According to an AFL-CIO blog, the signage is the latest in an ongoing “billboard war” that has struggled to find just the right wording.

Personally, I think it could use a little more tweaking.

Silver Lake's new 13,600 sq. ft. library. Photo: M. Imlay

It was a long time in coming, but Silver Lake finally saw the much-anticipated opening of its new $12-million library this morning. The residents’ campaign for the building actually began in the mid-1990s, but considering how Silver Lake’s elite history dates to the early 1900s, you wonder why it even took that long.

In any event, today’s opening ceremonies at the corner of Glendale and Silver Lake Blvds. featured the usual speechifying by Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, district council representatives Eric Garcetti and Tom LaBonge, and a host of other civic dignitaries.

However, the real heroes in this story are Los Angeles Public Library administrators who resourcefully used a $335-million construction bond approved in 1989 to build or upgrade a total of 64 branches. Not only were they able to commission many more libraries than originally envisioned, but they managed to create a series of distinctive, state-of-the-art structures perfectly blending with each community’s “sense of place.”

Silver Lake’s library is the capstone to this venture, with a design inspired by architect Richard Neutra, who lived and worked in the neighborhood not far from the new building.

• For a full library backstory, see this LAT piece.
• To become a Friend of the Silver Lake Library, follow this link.
• For more about Neutra and Silver Lake, visit this L.A. Places post.

Careful before stepping out! Photo: StockXchng.

As if you didn’t have reason enough, now there’s even more cause to fear the mean streets of Los Angeles.

The Transportation for America (TFA) advocacy group has released a report ranking Los Angeles as 27th in the nation for pedestrian accidents, but third in pedestrian fatalities.

In other words, your stroll along Main Street carries less peril overall than in other American cities, but is more likely to end in tragedy if you do bump into an Angeleno motorist (or vice versa).

Entitled Dangerous by Design, the TFA report is part of a campaign to push pro-pedestrian legislation through Congress. Not surprisingly, it finds the elderly (especially those living in Florida), women and minorities the hardest hit (perhaps that’s a poor choice of words) amid a growing “epidemic” of unsafe urban infrastructure:

“[B]ut people of all ages and all walks of life have been struck down in the simple act of walking. These deaths typically are labeled ‘accidents,’ and attributed to error on the part of motorist or pedestrian. In fact, however, an overwhelming proportion share a similar factor: They occurred along roadways that were dangerous by design…”

How “Unwalkable” Are We?

While even the casual observer would agree that L.A. has become increasingly hostile for pedestrians — a trend we need to reverse — TFA’s analysis should probably be taken with a grain of salt.

To attain its deathly statistics, the group lumped Los Angeles, Santa Ana and Long Beach into the same “metro area.” Not only is Santa Ana the seat of a whole other county, but these three cities are linked by some of our state’s busiest commercial trucking routes. We have no way of knowing from the analysis whether accidents occurred primarily in civic and shopping centers, along “city walks,” or in port, industrial and warehouse districts.

It’s an important distinction, since the problems — and their solutions — are entirely different.

Bottom line: While everyone wants a more walkable L.A., taking that stroll down Main Street may not actually be as dangerous as reported.

The decaying aftermath. Photo: M. Imlay

Halloween used to be my favorite holiday. I guess it still is, but I just don’t seem to enjoy it as much nowadays.

The past several years a busy work schedule usually kept me on the road for the holiday. No costume parties, no Day of the Dead processions at Olvera Street, no ghosts, ghouls or goblins of any sort. This year, however, my annual business trip evaporated and I finally found myself available for All Hallows Eve.

So how to celebrate it?

I opted for a nice, quiet, homespun Halloween. I bought candy, spent hours carving Jack O’ Lanterns (and roasting their seeds), dressed up the porch with some scary decorations, turned on Adams Family reruns, and settled down to await hordes of marauding urchins at nightfall.

But, alas, the demonic hosts never came. By midnight a mere seven Trick-or-Treaters had dared to approach my spooky abode.

To be honest, my Echo Park neighborhood has never been awash with ghosts and zombies, but when I first moved here several years ago, there was at least a respectable showing. In my absence the last couple of Halloweens I’ve apparently missed a frightening phenomenon: Gentrification has driven a stake through the heart of good ol’ fashioned Trick or Treating and Halloween mischief here in the hood.

Ever so quietly, all our tough, street-smart kids have disappeared one by one, only to be replaced by “perfect children” raised by “perfect parents” to be “perfectly fearful” of razor blades, fish hooks and poisoned goodies. (Never mind that these fears have been shown to be largely based on urban legend and hoaxes.)

I feel like Charlie Brown the morning after the Great Pumpkin Vigil. Here I am, left with a bowl full of candy, contemplating how I’ll revive an otherwise dying Halloween spirit the next time around. One thing’s for sure, I won’t be caught dead scooping and roasting pumpkin seeds in 2010.

Sigh. I miss my favorite holiday.

But more than that, I mourn what Halloween has become for today’s kids. All the magic seems gone.

Riverside Graffitti. Photo: Michael Imlay

Ride along the Glendale Narrows Bike Path to its southern terminus, and you’ll find these colorful, life-size scribblings “decorating” a Golden State Freeway overpass of the L.A. River.

Taggings. Photo: Michael Imlay

Similar graffiti graces another bridge approach just beyond the bikeway (left).

So how should we label these taggings? Guerilla art or urban blight?

To me, graffiti is like a paisley outfit from the 1960s — criminal, ugly and rarely acceptable in polite society.

But you can’t stop people from breaking the rules, and much as I hate to admit it, sometimes you have to grudgingly admire an inherent artistry in what they pull off.

I’m just not convinced this is one of those times.

Little Diablo. Photo: M. Imlay

Allow me to introduce Diablo, the latest addition to our Echo Park household.

While our entire family still very much misses Ramses — and realizes no dog can ever fill the void left by his passing — life must go on. Plus our surviving Dobie Isis desperately needs a companion, having slipped into an obvious funk over being the sole canine left in the house.

A purebred European-line Doberman, Diablo was a mere 11 weeks when he reluctantly paused from a backyard romp for this blurry closeup. One week later, he’s now pushing 23 pounds, well on his way to becoming a 110-pound heavyweight like his sire Argento.

We named the pup Diablo because he appeared to be the hell-raiser of his litter. Unfortunately, we were unaware that the movie Beverly Hills Chihuahua featured a Doberman of the same name. So much for originality… (Shows how often we get to the cineplex nowadays.)

Anyway, don’t let his innocent, wide-eyed demeanor fool you. Already Diablo is living up to his evil moniker. Extremely bright, playful and curious, he also exhibits a willful streak that’s clearly going to take some extra-patient obedience training to curb.

In addition to seeing him housebroken, I can hardly wait for Diablo to finish all his puppy shots so he can finally start exploring life in L.A. This devilish little dog is definitely raring for adventure.

Ramses at Play. Photos: M. Imlay

Your humble blogger hasn’t felt much like blogging lately. This past week our household had to say goodbye to our proud red Doberman, Ramses, roughly a month short of his eighth birthday.

We knew this day was coming. On average, Dobermans live about nine years, making Ramses a senior dog. Yet even in his advancing age, he maintained a puppy-like spunk.

Each morning he’d rise, take his blankie in his mouth, and parade around with it, daring you to get up, get out of bed, and play “keep away” with him. Once that was accomplished, he’d lead our second Doberman, Isis, downstairs to the kitchen where they’d patiently take  their positions for feeding.

After breakfast, he’d chase Isis through the doggie door for a half-hour game of tag or hide-n-seek outdoors. Then he’d do one last patrol of the yard before trotting into the house to nap in my office as I worked. Come late afternoon, he’d begin another round of sentry duty from an upstairs balcony as neighbors walked their dogs along the street below.

He was goofy, loving, loyal and playful to the end.

The Medical Roller-Coaster…

But amid all our faithful Dobe’s seemingly boundless exhuberance for life, my partner and I could sense deep down that something just wasn’t right.

A few months ago Ramses began to groan in his sleep. The vet attributed it to possible early arthritis and told us to monitor the situation. Then, about four weeks ago, other symptoms emerged indicating a bladder infection. When treatment for that failed, further tests revealed the true culprit: severe prostate inflammation, resulting from large, possibly cancerous, abscesses.

The last two weeks of his life were spent in and out of animal ERs and specialist clinics, examining, poking and prodding. While waiting for the results of a final test, the inflammation closed off his urethra, requiring yet another late-night ER visit for catheterization.

…And a Tearful Farewell

Ever resilient, Ramses took it all in stride, but we couldn’t bear to put him through any more procedures. Tough as the decision was, Ramses deserved to exit this world with his dignity intact.

He was one of those extraordinary, “almost human” dogs that come around once in a lifetime. Smart beyond belief, he knew the names of every room in the house, and would go to any one of them and wait for me on command. When running in a park or along a beach, he exhibited a thoroughbred’s beauty, and hurdled obstacles with a dolphin-like grace.

Even on his final ride to the vet, his eyes shone with the same intensity and indomitable spirit that first captured our hearts almost eight years ago when we picked him from his champion litter.

As devastating as the loss is to our household, we’ve been amazed at the extent he’s mourned by others. A surprising number of family, friends and neighbors teared up when  told of his passing. All had incredibly fond memories of him — the way he’d greet them at our door, escort them around during visits, and show off for them. Though a fearless protector of our home, he knew friends when he saw them and showered guests with affection.

It’s taken nearly a week for us to lift ourselves — and especially Isis — from a listless depression. Nothing around here feels the same. Even now, as I finally sit down to pen his tribute, there’s an aching in my soul. Who knew a Doberman could touch so many people, so deeply, in so many ways?

Goodnight and goodbye, Ramses, my big puppy. You are, and will always be, sorely missed.

Hollywood Wig Shop. Photo: M. Imlay

“I love Los Angeles. I love Hollywood. They’re beautiful. Everybody’s plastic, but I love plastic. I want to be plastic.”
– Andy Warhol (1928-1987).

Thanks to out-of-town guests, I’ve been spending a lot of time around Tinseltown lately. For some reason this dingy wig shop along Hollywood Blvd. struck me as the perfect illustration for Warhol’s quote. After all, his Marilyn Monroe prints have become Pop Art signature classics.

Here, locked up safe behind bars for the night, Marilyn and her plastic friends gaze tauntingly at Walk of Fame passersby.

The whole scene makes me wonder: How many shoppers are actually lured into this outlandish store during daylight hours? And who buys this stuff? Are the customers mainly drag queens? Or do Midwestern tourists find this sort of merchandising equally enticing?

Pawnshop to the Stars on Melrose and Cahuenga. Photo: M. Imlay

I don’t know why this pawn shop’s tagline amuses me, but it does. Guess everyone’s falling on hard times nowadays, including our Movieland elite.

Located at the corner of Melrose and Cahuenga, Brothers Collateral is open 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. seven days a week for all your celebrity liquidation and/or collectible shopping needs.

According to a 2005 business profile in the local Larchmont Chronicle, brothers Ernest and Rudolph Gintel first opened the shop in 1980 and have been happily wheeling and dealing in jewelry, musical instruments and other sundry items ever since.

After all, who could possibly resist merchandise like the scores of mint-condition Beanie Babies featured at their website? (Wow! Pity the unfortunate stars who had to part with those timeless heirlooms…)

Curbed Sofa. Photo: M. Imlay

Don’t you just hate when someone decides to redecorate your neighborhood streets with their tired, worn-out furnishings? (All the more so when they take up precious parking space…)

For your weekend enjoyment: An excerpt from the PBS program Things That Aren’t Here Anymore, narrated by Ralph Story, a guy who (sadly) isn’t here anymore.

Beverly Park operated at the current site of the Beverly Center from 1945-1974. Having never been there as a kid, your humble blogger lacks any personal recollections of it. However, he does recall the family gathering in front of the ol’ black-and-white TV to watch Ralph Story’s Los Angeles, which aired weekly from 1964-1970 on KNXT. (That’s KCBS-2 for all you hipster and transplant whippersnappers.)

Story’s program was a mix of Southland history, culture and folksy storytelling, making it “the highest-rated and most fondly remembered local series in Los Angeles television history,” according to the UCLA Film and Television Archive.

Story passed away from emphysema in 2006 at age 86. He is still very much missed.

Joyce Meadows (left) of Canyon Country hoists her “Don’t Tread on Me” flag as Tea Party participants begin to gather at Glendale City Hall just before noon today.

One of many such Tax Day protests held across the nation, the Tea Party was organized by Debi Devens, a self-described “average American housewife” from Glendale’s La Crescenta neighborhood. Devens pulled the event together after deciding just three weeks ago that she’d “had enough” of massive government bailouts and spending.

“The only reason I did is because no one in Glendale or this surrounding area had organized one,” she explains. “I’m really good at complaining about situations but I’ve never really pitched in to do anything. I was so fed up — it was time to stand up and do something.”

Held from noon to 2 p.m., Glendale’s Tea Party was modest in comparison to more sizable events in other cities (some of which at the time of this post were said to be drawing numbers in the low thousands). Still, the crowd was enough to fill the City Hall steps and front lawn, attracting several local news crews, a handful of photographers and bloggers, and a gaggle of curious onlookers from the courthouse across the street.

Beware the Angry Mob?

A couple dozen motorists also honked in support as they drove past along Broadway, eliciting smiles and waves from the protesters, many of whom admitted to being as new to this sort of thing as Devens.

In fact, however “fired up” participants may have said they were, the political gathering showed none of the hallmarks of your typical angry mob ready to “take to the streets.” Rather,  assembly on the sidewalk, lawn and steps was orderly to a fault, with protesters gently reminding each other to show good manners and refrain from stepping into traffic or hindering pedestrians.

And while they did muster numerous boos in response to a list of Sacramento and Obama Administration spending initiatives ticked off by speakers, their overall demeanor remained festive and almost too good-natured.

A chant of “We’re Tea’d Off!” was about as frenzied as they got.

This rant’s for you! Yeah, you know who I’m talking to…

The less responsible bicyclists “ridazzing” through Echo Park and Silver Lake any given weeknight without regard for the traffic around you…

Your after-dark excursions may have you feeling oh so hip, smug and eco-friendly, but you know what would really demonstrate  social consciousness?

Some friggin’ lights.

And not those cheap, kiddie-style white LED flashers so many of you think you’re getting by with… No, I’m talking real grown-up HIDs with some serious candlepower.

In fact, why not double up? Invest both in an HID system and a high-throw LED unit — then mount one on your handlebars and the other on your helmet (which, yes, you also should be wearing but aren’t).

Don’t whine to me about the cost, either. With all the money you brag about saving at the pump, you can afford to splurge on the requisite safety items, including a few clip-on hazard blinkers.

And while we’re at it…

Now that the official Ridazz has devolved into a less structured affair, there’s clearly no leadership left to remind you about biking courtesy. So I’ll do it.

Yes, you may be convinced that bike commuting is the counter-cultural wave of the future, but until our Fearless Leader actually forces all our fannies into bike saddles and teensy GM clown cars, the commonsense rules for sharing the road with your less fashionable internal combustion counterparts still apply.

You might want to start by brushing up on riding with the flow of traffic, and even hand signaling before darting headlong into it. Next maybe practice sticking with your group in the bike lanes and intersections. Once you’ve mastered all that, try yielding to pedestrians every now and then. (Yeah, they use the crosswalks too.)

Believe me, we motorists understand that we’re chiefly responsible for keeping your spokes and sprockets out of our front grilles. Still, would it hurt you to help us out a little?

At first the thought of using my blog’s main column for advertising seemed almost sacrilegious. Then lo and behold, yesterday the Los Angeles Times caved to exactly this sort of journalistic iconoclasm. So why not join the trend? After all, I have an apartment to rent ASAP, and these are tough, recessionary times…

Considering a Large, 2br Place in the Echo Park Hills?

If not, you should be.

You’d enjoy coming home to this huge, split-level 2 bdrm/1.5 bath apartment with rustic canyon and city light views.

Situated in Echo Park’s hilltop Elysian Heights neighborhood, features include:

1,250+ square feet with generous closet space. (Like a small house.)

Fantastic views from living/dining area, bedrooms, balcony and entry landing.

Tastefully appointed with Bamboo flooring, contemporary and vintage fixtures, mini-blinds and upstairs carpeting.

Tiled baths and kitchen with full service porch, including laundry hookups (say goodbye to laundromats)!

Off-street garage parking for two cars, plus space for visitors and an easily accessible, small gated yard for relaxing or entertaining.

The apartment is in a well-maintained, mid-century duplex and is perfect for a couple, roommates, or even a single person looking for a large bedroom plus a home office, etc.

Water, trash and gardener paid by owner (me). You pay your remaining utilities.

About the Neighborhood

Historic Echo Park/Elysian Heights is one of L.A.’s best-kept secrets — diverse and casually trendy the way Silver Lake used to be, it’s especially popular with artists, creatives, musicians and media professionals.

• Highly desirable 90026 zip — a great, friendly neighborhood convenient to freeways, DASH and MTA lines, downtown and the heart of the Echo Park/Silver Lake scene.

• Coffee hangouts like Chango and Fix, as well as Delilah’s Bakery and several boutique shops are within walking distance.

• Dining and clubbing along Sunset Blvd. is also close by, along with shopping, hiking at Elysian Park and games at Dodger Stadium.

• Just a quick jaunt east down Sunset and you’re at Chinatown, the Music Center, downtown galleries or Olvera Street. To the west, you’ll find Silver Lake, Griffith Park, Los Feliz and Hollywood equally quick and accessible. Need to visit Atwater or Glendale? They’re just minutes north.

All in all, you’ll find this apartment an exceptional place to live, if I do say so myself. (The badly taken photos really don’t do it justice…)

• Available as early as May 1.

• $2,175/month, minimum 6-month lease. First month rent plus deposit moves you in. Pets considered with an additional deposit.

For details and showing, email: admin [at] mimlay.com.

The above photo was sent by reader Patrick Oliva. Depicting a downtown market run by his father, circa 1948, the image was part of a recent El Pueblo exhibit celebrating L.A.’s Italian community. (Many Angelenos don’t realize it, but Italian immigrants and their descendants formed a significant presence in the Plaza area from the 1820s forward.) Patrick writes:

“My dad’s store was at 3rd and Hill in downtown Los Angeles, across from the Angels Flight tram. He and my uncle had that business in that location from 1940 until the mid 1950s. Then they moved it to Burbank where they expanded it into a deli, bakery and a big liquor store… The two principal people in [the photo] are my dad (Rachisio Oliva) and my uncle (the younger one, Louis Oliva).  The other men were workers for them. It was a very thriving business during the war years, and when things slowed down in L.A. they moved to the growing Valley…”

…
Blogger’s Note: Thanks to Patrick for getting our reader-participation ball rolling. Again, if you have an L.A. experience to share, please email it to admin [at] mimlay.com. Be sure to include permission for posting.

I like Halloween as much as the next person, probably more. But when it’s over, it’s over — right?

Not for the good people at the Spirit Halloween Co., who’ve become incredibly innovative in their attempts to keep the seasonal marketing going, and going, and going.

Back in October I purchased a hanging skeleton at their Silver Lake store. When the clerk asked if I wanted to receive special email promotions and offers, I thought why not? After all, how much spam could you possibly get from a company specializing in Halloween paraphernalia?

More than you can ever imagine.

Once the trick-or-treating was over, the spooky superstore chain launched into a campaign of regular email blasts designed to help me stay in costume year round. Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, President’s Day — I swear there’s something for every occasion.

The latest is this $99 “deluxe” Easter Bunny outfit, which for some reason I find even more disturbing than the company’s ever-popular Killer Clown getups.

Of course, if you’ve got too much pride to don the rabbit ears yourself, you can always foist them on your kids. And if that’s not bizarre enough, there are other Springtime offerings they may enjoy.

Experts say Halloween merchandizing has become a $6 billion industry, second only to Christmas. Now we know why.