I’m kind of Mr. Unpopular around here on Halloween. Reason: I don’t give out candy. Instead, we package up little containers of carrot juice. It’s healthy, and it tastes great. It also happens to cost a lot more than some cheap crap candy bar. But do these spoiled little Palo Alto brats appreciate the effort? You should see the faces they pull, standing there in their stupid little costumes, whining for candy. Some of them actually smash the juice containers on the walk. And in the last few years some of the older ones have started coming back and egging the domicile. I know who they are. I’ve talked to their parents. They’re like, Hey, what do you expect when you’re giving out friggin carrot juice? So this year my pal T.J. Rodgers and I have cooked up a little plan. Kind of a cross between our “Rat Patrol” game up in the Tenderloin and a prank that T.J.’s frat in college used to pull. I’m not at liberty to discuss all the details. But let me just say it involves water cannons, tasers, bean bag guns, a dozen guys from the Apple security squad and slingshot-launched “meatballs” made of Alpo dog food mixed with dog shit. (That’s the part that came from T.J.’s frat, only it wasn’t dog shit they were shooting, trust me.) Anyhoo. We’re hanging out in the house with the lights out, dressed in commando outfits with our faces blackened and night-vision goggles at our sides. If you hear about some California high school punks sent to the emergency room at Stanford with mouths stuffed with dog shit, well, it wasn’t us. Honest.