Suicide Doors

S is for Susan who perished of fits.



S is also for Salem. As in Massachusetts. Not to be confused with that darn retarded cat from Sabrina the Teenage Witch.

Salem is a lovely and charming town, best know for a little blurb in history called the Salem Witch Trials, perhaps you've heard of it?



I haven't been there in years, not since my sister was doing her fancy-pants medical school learnin' in Gardner and we zipped off to Salem to do all the Salem-y things you'd expect: visit all the cheesetastic museums, did gravestone rubbings and went on haunted walking tours that sucked because A.) we were not haunted and B). there was walking involved. I've been a-itchin' to go back ever since but am far too busy with my Very Important and Meaningful Life. Slacking won't take care of it itself, you know. And anyway, I'm sure the people of Salem really want another out-of-state jackass in their town at Halloween the same way I really appreciate all the New Yorkers here up in my grill looking at leaves changing color and acting like the mountains are exciting and wonderful, because apparently there are no leaves in the state of New York to look at.

Ghosts in the graveyard or a random thing flying past the camera? You be the judge.



(While googling Salem, the interwebz thought perhaps I was searching for Salem cigarettes. "Who isn't?", I asked it back.)

Haunted Happenings is a good place to start, if you yourself are an out-of-state jackass looking to annoy the local Salemfolk. The site even tells you what events and outdoor tomfoolery are for the over-21 crowd, which of course is probably where I'd want to be firmly planted and not, say, at the Little Witches and Wizards Sock Hop.







*Suicide Doors" by Reverend Horton Heat.