Confession: There is little that makes us happier than when kindly advice columnists go off on terrible human beings. It gives us life.
So when we saw this headline for Slate's latest Dear Prudence article, we knew we had to see what her advice was, because there is a woman out there who thinks poor kids should not be trick-or-treating in her neighborhood.
Now, you might be thinking that there must be some overexaggerating on Prudence's part, because there is no way that someone could be that cold and that awful. And then you see that this person must obviously be a rich snob and you totally believe their "sob" story now.
Here is what "Halloween for the 99 percent" is dealing with:
"I live in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the country, but on one of the more "modest" streets—mostly doctors and lawyers and family business owners. (A few blocks away are billionaires, families with famous last names, media moguls, etc.) I have noticed that on Halloween, what seems like 75 percent of the trick-or-treaters are clearly not from this neighborhood. Kids arrive in overflowing cars from less fortunate areas. I feel this is inappropriate. Halloween isn't a social service or a charity in which I have to buy candy for less fortunate children. Obviously this makes me feel like a terrible person, because what's the big deal about making less fortunate kids happy on a holiday? But it just bugs me, because we already pay more than enough taxes toward actual social services. Should Halloween be a neighborhood activity, or is it legitimately a free-for-all in which people hunt down the best candy grounds for their kids?"
You poor thing! Kids are coming to your house to get candy? On Halloween?! The nerve of them. To think that you have to buy a couple more bags of candy to keep in your giant house just in case more riff raff come around. That must be complete hell on earth and we don't know how you manage to survive.
Ugh, this woman sounds like a movie character, if the movie was about an evil, rich, stuck-up brat who locks up her stepdaughter in a tower and only lets her out to clean.
So how does Prudence respond? By basically telling this one percent-er to go to hell, but not before she gives out some candy to less-fortunate childen:
"In the urban neighborhood where I used to live, families who were not from the immediate area would come in fairly large groups to trick-or-treat on our streets, which were safe, well-lit, and full of people overstocked with candy. It was delightful to see the little mermaids, spider-men, ghosts, and the occasional axe murderer excitedly run up and down our front steps, having the time of their lives. So we'd spend an extra $20 to make sure we had enough candy for kids who weren't as fortunate as ours. There you are, 99, on the impoverished side of Greenwich or Beverly Hills, with the other struggling lawyers, doctors, and business owners. Your whine makes me kind of wish that people from the actual poor side of town come this year not with scary costumes but with real pitchforks."
But the absolute best part about Prudence's response is this at the end:
"Stop being callous and miserly and go to Costco, you cheapskate, and get enough candy to fill the bags of the kids who come one day a year to marvel at how the 1 percent live."
"Go to Costco, bitch!" will now be our new go-to insult to shut down a conversation. Thanks, Prudence!