Before we start today, I’d like to bid a fond farewell to my editor, Jackie Bernstein. For the past three weeks, the only time Jackie wasn’t being a good editor was when she was being a great editor, and I am genuinely sad that we won’t have the entire year to collaborate. Gerry Shih, you have big shoes to fill, my friend.

Last weekend, frats, professional schools and communities around the US celebrated pagan hedonism by clothing their real selves, imbibing until they forgot who they were and trying to hook up with people they hoped to never know. Welcome to Halloween, rest of the world: Another great American tradition that we’ll soon be exporting.

This year, I had promised myself that I’d do something more creative than the past three, for which my costumes entailed, respectively, putting a white sheet over my head and calling myself a ghost, getting really drunk and calling myself a dipsomaniac, and not shaving for a week and calling myself a werewolf. So, one full week in advance, I made my way to a store in the glory that is Palo Alto with a promising moniker: Halloween Costume Shop.

Once inside, I was confronted with an array of possibilities for my brand new for-a-night-or-two alter ego. Should I explore my superhero side as the Silver Surfer? Should I explore my Caucasian infant side as Stewie from The Family Guy? Or should I explore my cherry-flavored mixed drink side as a large, anthropomorphic, frosty pitcher of Kool-Aid?

Then, I saw it, and it saw me: a Lieutenant Dangle costume. For those of you who don’t know, Lt. James “Jim” Ron Dangle is the highest-ranking deputy on Comedy Central’s brilliant COPS parody Reno 911! Other than being a huge fan of the show — and an even more ardent fan of the cast’s previous work on MTV’s sketch-comedy show The State — Dangle’s character was perfect for me because of his trademark shorts, which might be better described as hot pants. I speculate that his name derives from these shorts, as they are constituted in such a way that, without proper precaution, something might just “dangle” out.

After I got home, I raced to suit up and put on a one-person fashion show for myself. I found the badge and proaudly donned it, found the gloves and Velcroed them on tight, but then hit a bit of a snafu: one piece of my costume appeared to be some sort of one-breasted bra. As this didn’t seem consistent with Lt. Jim Ron’s character, I examined the bag and learned that what I held in my hand was no means of support for singularly busty women; it was a “package enhancer.”

Now, like most men, I’d like to think I have absolutely no need for such artificial aggrandizement. In my support, the one person who actually has relevant experience with this area tells me that my package is perfectly normal, then asks, “Can you now turn your head and cough?” That said, the hot pants didn’t leave much room for imagination, so I figured I’d at least give it a go. Also, to be fair, if Halloween is a time for constructing new identities, maybe one aspect of the new me would just happen to be incredibly endowed in the Netherlands.

Fully vested, primped and pumped, I took a triumphant look in the mirror. What looked back, however, wasn’t Lt. Dangle in all his sexy glory, but, instead, State Trooper Arkahd “Thorny” Ramathorn from Super Troopers! As an Indian in a highway patrol uniform with a fake mustache and sunglasses, there was just no way for me to distinguish myself from the only popular culture representation of Indian highway coppery. I did have one thing going for me though: an enormously overstuffed crotch. And believe you me, nudgenudge winkink, it turned out I would need every last inch of it...