This being Halloween, you'd think this column would attempt to be timely for once, and address the issues that face us all. So here we go.

Q: What type of lawn displays are appropriate?

A: Depends. Unless it's Frankenstein in Depends, which raises some questions. We have a ghost hanging from a tree, looking surprised. Great: I am dead, wearing a sheet, and snagged on a birch. This wasn't in the orientation manual. There's also a vampire hanging from a tree, which suggests we caught him stealing horses.

We also have tombstones of an amusing nature. RIP and so on. Did they actually ever carve RIP on tombstones? There wasn't enough room for Rest in Peace? If you're burying John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidtenstein, maybe you have to abbreviate, but if Jon Doe gets an RIP it's because the survivors didn't want to pop for the whole message. But even so an ingenious tombstone carver could get some extra money out of the grieving survivors.

"So, this RIP, you want it to stand for Rest in Peace, or Requiescat in Pace?" What's that? "Well, it means the same thing, but it's Latin, so, like more holy." That one would be fine.

And then they get the bill and it was $5 more because the words he was abbreviating were longer.

We have some lights and pumpkins. I feel bad for the pumpkins, which get one night to shine, and after that squirrels and raccoons eat their faces. This is not a fair trade. But at least that's your cycle-of-life stuff. What irritates me are the hooligans who kick them in for fun and frolic. This is why I get the biggest pumpkin on the lot and fill it with bricks.

But don't make it too scary. Small ghosts can be scary, because the kids might think they used to be, well, kids. What did they do to end up as ghosts? THEY DIDN'T LISTEN. Amplified groaning sounds work well for the 7-to-10 demographic; they know by now that mad theatrical cackles are part of the soundtrack for Halloween, because evil is always tremendously amused by itself. Cauldrons overflowing with dry ice? Sure. Bloody torsos spilling their guts as soundless screams split skinless faces? Sure.

Wait — no. What is wrong with you? Yes, getting that delicious thrill of fright that's a few inches outside of your expectations makes for a memorable Halloween for a young child, but so does duct-taping them face-first to a big plasma set playing "The Walking Dead."

Keep this in mind: Halloween is not just an excuse to parade the most revolting violations of the flesh you can imagine, it is also about a 4-year-old in a Dora costume who is unsure why candy has been suddenly identified with decapitation.

Q: What kind of candy should I give?

A: You are under no obligation to buy $40 worth of "fun size" confections, and if the kids are dismayed when you hand out cough drops, that's their problem.

You only wish someone sold knockoffs of the popular brands, with names and packages that looked like big-name brands, but weren't. Milk Dads. Scattles. Two Musketeers, Milky Whey, Butterflinger, Reese's Thesis, N&Ns, Somewhat Amused Rancher, Footsie Roll, Snuckers, Baby Wrath, and so on. If the package looks familiar and it seems like Approved Chocolate with a Marketing Campaign Behind It, kids are satisfied. It's when you give them rosemary-flecked dried chickpeas that you risk a thousand tendrils of Charmin waving in the stark first light of November.

Q: I'm 16. Is it OK to trick or treat?

A: You're really 17, aren't you? I thought so. No. You should be at a festival in someone's house where various innocent mating rituals take place, like bobbing for apples. Then there is a "sock-hop" where music from popular troubadours is played. Good wholesome fun for all, until Biff spikes the punch.

Kidding. I know that sounds hopelessly archaic. Better to spend the night in a circle of your peers, everyone taking pictures of your shoes for Insta­gram.

Q: All the neighborhoods have these "not-so-scary Halloween parties" for kids. Doesn't that defeat the purpose? Shouldn't there be a slight tincture of fright, or is Halloween just the culmination of a month where ordinary products at the store are branded orange with silhouettes of witches? I swear I bought some bleach that was tinted orange. Got my clothes FRIGHTENINGLY WHITE. I don't even know what that means.

A: Depends on what "the true meaning of Halloween" is. It's about the candy, yes: After 364 days of anti-obesity messages, the adult world says, "Jam your maw with mallow. Seriously, we insist." It's like a day where the adults suddenly say, "Now, let's all smoke cigarettes and carelessly handle firearms." It's also about the costume, and the simple amusement of being someone else for a night. But it's also about the shivery frisson of fright you get when something looms from the shadows, or a pumpkin looks … wrong, or you scamper down the street ahead of the rest and when you turn they're not there anymore.

That's Halloween — the moment when, for a second, you are seized with the sudden conviction that this may not be entirely about Pop-Tarts with orange frosting and bat-shaped sprinkles. It passes the moment you hear your parent's voice calling you back into the light. You're grateful to have something to run toward. You always wonder what it was you were running away from. And you're glad you never found out.

Happy Halloween! If that's not completely contradictory.

jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858