By Amy Silverman
By Olivia LaVecchia
By Monica Alonzo and Stephen Lemons
By Chris Parker
By Michael Lacey
By Weston Phippen
Especially to all the little kids it frightened with blistering critiques of their "costumes," many of which just plain sucked ass. (Note to soccer moms: A rag on the end of a stick isn't a hobo suit, you lazy pumpkin-headed tightwads!)
The Bird was feeling cranky that night because several aforementioned snooty neighbors (who're legion!) had confided their disdain at the number of barrio kids who're bused into our fine historic 'hood, because the people here reportedly hand out the finer treats.
What, the streets aren't safe for their pampered brats on Halloween if they have to share them with junior migrant workers?!
The Bird isn't too proud to cop to roosting in one of our better parts of town, although since October 31, it's been thinking of flying this coop for someplace where "historic status" doesn't translate to sniffy paleface intolerance.
The last time The Bird checked, you don't need a damn green card to accept a handful of Twizzlers from affluent honkies. And if the neighbors are truly miffed at the number of offspring our brown-skinned brethren are hauling onto our hallowed historic ground, this boulevardier of Birdland would like to suggest that they, next Halloween, hand out sample packs of condoms to all the grown-up Josés and Marias who stop by looking for fun-size Snickers. Nothing says "Trick or treat!" like a fistful of Trojan Vibra-Ribbed Tinglers.
For its part, The Bird plans next year to paper the barrio from one end to the other with jack-o'-lantern-adorned fliers promoting the fine candy handed out by the gringos in los distritos históricos. ¡Arriba!