Whoops, wrong picture. Behold!

Rannphairti anaithnid at English Wikipedia
We don't know why, but this is creepier than a real human skull.

Originally, jack-o-lanterns were carved out of turnips, whose waxy skin and gaunt form offer much more of an undead panache than the relatively jolly pumpkin. The origin of this, as befits the holiday, comes from a scary story. In 17th-century Ireland, there once lived a fellow named Stingy Jack, who, true to his name, was a bit of a son of a bitch. One day, Jack met the Devil in a pub (this is an Irish story) and decided to trick him. Playing up on his frugal nature, Jack convinced Satan to transform himself into a coin in order to pay for their drinks. However, instead of plopping the demonic coin on the counter, Jack decided to pocket it right next to a silver cross. Weakened by the divine symbol, the Devil could not escape and had to make a deal with Stingy Jack, promising to leave his soul alone for 10 years. We can only assume the Devil had been drinking since early that afternoon and was no match for Jack's deviousness.

When Old Nick reappeared to exact vengeance 10 years later, Stingy Jack once again tricked him by making him climb an apple tree that had a cross carved into its bark (the Devil was either drunk again or an eight-year-old boy). Again, the same deal was struck, but this time Jack died before the 10 years were up. When he arrived in Heaven, God told him in no uncertain terms that a man who spent his life deceiving everyone, up to and including the Father of Lies, was not welcome in paradise. For obvious reasons, the Devil wouldn't let him into Hell either. So Jack was cursed to roam the Earth in eternal darkness, with a carved turnip lantern as his only source of light, because flashlights hadn't been invented yet.

Arnold Bocklin 
Now let's all celebrate with a cool glass of turnip juice.

Eventually, the tale of the wandering fiend became a mainstay in folklore, with children excitingly peering into the night, fearing that they would see the tiny light of Jack of the Lantern (or Jack o' Lantern, as is the Gaelic way to put it). Soon, Jack became part of the festival of Samhain, the Irish and Scottish equivalent to Halloween, and people would celebrate by carving their own turnip lanterns. When the Scots and Irish started emigrating to the Americas, they took their spooky tradition with them, but traded in their traditional turnip for pumpkins, which were native to America and more easily obtained. Turnip lanterns are still handy if you run out of candy and want to make sure no kid comes within 100 yards of your front door, though.

Apparently, in the early stages of the Valentine industry, nuance wasn't anyone's strong suit. That quickly became problematic when illustrators tried their hands at thematically appropriate wordplay. In fairness, there are many ways of making "stealing" someone's heart look cute and adorable, but armed robbery probably isn't one of them.

Vintage Valentine Museum
"Maybe rob yourself some pants first?"

Neither is literally taking a hammer to the competition.

Vintage Valentine Museum
The umbrella might save them, but not the dog.

Studying these mid-20th-century cards quickly reveals another pattern: People sure loved shooting things. (Still do!) And while Cupid may have used arrows, these men wanted to fill their special someones with the hot lead of love.

Vintage Valentine Museum
Then he plans to stuff and mount her.

And if that didn't work, there was always the option of turning the gun on yourself. Because nothing makes a girl's heart go all aflutter than informing her that you'll blow your brains out if she doesn't join you at the local soda shop.

Worthpoint.com, Valentinesdaygifts.us
That skunk is making sure there are no mistakes this time.

But nothing holds a candle to the sheer horrid absurdity of the cannibal Valentine, in which the world's worst puns are inexplicably combined with illustrations of people being boiled alive.

Vintage Valentine Museum
It's a lot easier today, when we can just say, "Eat me."

Which of course turned real racist real fast.

Vintage Valentine Museum
Okay, they didn't even bother adding a romance pun to this one.

And if you're wondering which type of Valentine would be the worst to get in your mailbox -- the violent one, the suicidal one, or the racist one -- the answer is D) All of the above.

Veintage.es

Christmas is the only time of the year when parents encourage their children to approach a bearded stranger at the mall and ask if he has any presents for them. Mall Santas represent the earthly interest of Father Christmas, donning his curly beard, plump belly, and red outfit to bring cheer to the world. But it took a long period of trial and error to get those costumes right, which are two words you generally never want to be associated with Santa Claus.

squareamerica.com
Nowadays, we strive to meet a "40 percent not terrified" audience standard.

In the European tradition, Saint Nick was a tall, gaunt man with the beard of a druid and the face of a stern math teacher. As a traveling spiritual leader, Saint Nicholas was usually depicted wearing a menacing hood and a cloak. The idea of this spindly hooded figure sneaking across rooftops and judging if people have been good or bad sounds like it should be received with much less childlike joy.

Ubisoft
Oh he's making a list, alright.

But dressing like a phantom strangler wasn't the most horrifying version of Santa Claus ever created. That honor belongs to Germany, because of course it does. The Wend people of East Germany had their own interpretation of Santa Claus named Rumpliche, or Knect Ruprecht. Instead of shooting down chimneys to deliver presents, he visited children at home to scare the shit out of them. On Christmas Day, one young man from each Wendish village would pose as Rumpliche and recruit some other young ruffians to be his assistants. They would all dress in striped suits, don creepy masks, and roam the streets, pounding and screaming on doors demanding that parents hand over their naughty children. When many Wendish Germans emigrated abroad (to Texas, for example), they took their terrifying anti-Claus with them, terrorizing children up until the 1950s.

Bullock Museum
Men still knock on doors to snatch your children, but they're on Santa's naughty list.

Successful trick-or-treating depends as much on picking a great costume as it does on bringing along the right container to haul all that sweet loot back home. Today, kids' candy bags usually take the form of a plastic pumpkin or their least-soiled pillowcase, but in the past, having the most elaborate and adorned candy box was a big part of the Halloween experience. People would spend a lot of time and money on candy containers -- and the result was scarier than their costumes could ever be.

santashauntedboot/Etsy
Candy inserted here immediately turns to ashes.

By the 19th century, "novelty candy packaging" was all the rage. People would make or buy outlandish Halloween ornaments made out of papier mache and cardboard to store their candy. This fad even spread to different holidays, resulting in people having papier mache Santa Clauses or turkeys which they would have to decapitate in order to get at their chocolate. Still, when it came to creepy containers, Halloween had no equal. What started out as simple black cat dolls quickly transformed into the kind of unblinking avatars of silent horror that wouldn't look out of place on an episode of Pee Wee's Playhouse directed by David Cronenberg.

Dan Morphy Auctions
The trickster has become the treater.

The practice quietly went extinct in the 20th century, when people seemed to have unanimously decided that the madness had to stop. Because of the sudden halt (and the fragility of the paper containers), these horrifying tote bags are now considered rare collector's items. That sentient foot up there was valued at around $3,500, and the potato policeman / marital aid goes for anywhere from $3,000 to $5,000. One collector sold his whole lot for a whopping $370,000. That's almost enough money to pay for the exorcism!

Dan Morphy Auctions
Indeed, no amount of money is too great for the privilege of carrying your candy in the lead singer from Prodigy.

While there are many things that can sour Thanksgiving dinner (bad weather, delayed flights, your grandma's casual racism after two sherries), there's really only one thing that can make or break the day: the turkey. Turkeys are the real stars of the holiday -- the centerpiece to beat all the actual centerpieces. Which is why it's maybe not so strange that, once upon a time, Hollywood felt the need to "sex up" the turkey by pairing it with a bunch of scantily clad pinup models, who also had to be ready to slaughter the bird at a moment's notice.

via selvedgeyard.com
Never mind. It is strange.

The tradition of sexy Thanksgiving photos arose with the advent of the Hollywood starlet. Suddenly, newspapers were clamoring for saucy pics of beautiful women, and any reason to put leggy dames in front of the camera was good enough. This included the sexy Thanksgiving photo shoot, wherein young actresses had to take humiliating pinup pictures with a turkey. A lucky few got away with just showing off their homemaking skills ...

via Indie Wire

... but many unfortunate pinups had the almost impossible task of looking suitably attractive while standing next to a bird that looks like it's already been turned inside-out.

via selvedgeyard.com
"Show a bit more leg. No, not you. The turkey."

But no Thanksgiving pictures are more confusingly erotic than the turkey murder pinups. Like buxom executioners, these models are prepping their weapons for the inevitable (and seemingly delightful) slaughter of their gobbling co-stars, whether they be brandishing a rifle ...

Houston Press

... or sharpening a fucking hatchet.

Houston Press

And to prove that no star could escape the dreaded Thanksgiving massacre shoot, here's Marilyn Monroe posing as a "vixen pilgrim," ready to blow a turkey's face off with her oversized blunderbuss:

via selvedgeyard.com
In terms of the "sexy costume" industry, this is 50 years ahead of its time.

Everyone has to start somewhere, and for actresses in the Golden Age of Hollywood, the first stepping stone to fame was proving they could look sexy right before massacring a hideous giant bird.

Speaking of old-timey Thanksgiving ...

Another big part of this bizarro Thanksgiving tradition was going door to door begging for money. Thanksgiving takes place around the time of the much older Martinmas, a feast named for Saint Martin of Tours, the patron saint of beggars and the poor. And like Christian holidays tend to do, when its practitioners moved to a new place, they picked the nearest native holiday and assimilated it. This was particularly popular in New York City, where there was a constant influx of new immigrants. The city was even host to several ragamuffin parades, where kids would roam the streets in gangs, dressed in grotesque beggar outfits and painted faces, going door to door demanding tribute in the form of apples or money.

Bain News Service/Library of Congress
Of course, giving a gang of street children apples instead of money is a good way to get your garage burned down.

By the 1930s, the masked Ragamuffin Day was in steep decline. Several newspapers published articles condemning the practice, and a particularly devastating blow was dealt by a New York superintendent named William J. O'Shea, who circulated a letter among parents declaring that "modernity is incompatible with the custom of children to masquerade and annoy adults on Thanksgiving Day." Basically, he was telling those damn kids to get off his lawn.

via brownstonedetectives.com
To make the modern news more fun, replace every instance of "millennials" with "ragamuffins."

Eventually, the tradition was completely snuffed out in favor of a new tradition that had overtaken New York City: Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. In essence, we traded bands of sooty masked children begging for money for a giant inflatable Garfield barreling down the street, also begging for money.

For more of Cedric Voets' attempts at witticisms or his famous recipes for toilet wine, do follow him on Twitter.

2016 is almost over. Yes the endless, rotten shit hurricane of a year which took away Bowie, Prince and Florence Henderson and gave us Trump, Harambe and the Zika virus is finally drawing to a close. So, to give this bitch a proper viking funeral, Jack O'Brien and the crew, which includes Dan O'Brien, Alex Schmidt, and comedian Caitlin Gill, are going to send out 2016 with Cracked's year in review in review. They'll rectify where every other year-in-review goes wrong by giving some much needed airtime to the positive stories from the 2016 and shedding light on the year's most important stories that got overlooked. Get your tickets here.

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