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In the plot, little Wednesday has grown up and found love with a young man who is \"normal.\" She enlists the help of her father, Gomez, to ensure a dinner party for both sides of the family goes well and to gain her mother Morticia's...

In the Charles Addams cartoon, the ghoulish father outside the maternity ward looks up as the door opens. \"Congratulations,\" says the nurse, \"it's a baby.\" The world's media went beyond parody this week as they waited at the Lindo wing of St Mary's hospital in London. The globalised suspense seemed synthetic. What did they expect the woman to produce, a gorilla? The public craves bad news, especially gossip. If it is to absorb good news, it must be served hysterical. Thus every sporting victor is a \"hero\" and every minor actor a \"megastar\". The trivial must be accorded significance. The Olympics must be \"worth billions\" to Britain; a Murray triumph must mean freedom for Scotland. I asked an Afrikaner what was going on and he said simply: \"It's everyone's dream of happiness.\" Republican countries have seemed, if anything, even keener on royal nativity than Britons. I found it hard to keep American friends off the subject, with much confusion over the meaning of words such as sovereign, subject and \"long to reign over us\".

Charles Addams' cartoon creations are still creepy and kooky as described in the lyrics of their 1960s sitcom. They remain fond of the color black, instruments of torture, bumps in the night and screams of terror. During the staged musical version of \"The Addams Family,\" if you listen closely, you might even hear their spirits screaming \"Get us out of this show.\"

Your phone company knows where you live, what websites you visit, what apps you download, what videos you like to watch, and even where you are. Now, some have begun selling that information to the highest bidder. In mid-October, Verizon Wireless changed its privacy policy to allow the company to record customers' information, aggregate it with millions of other customers' data, and sell it.

\"I've caught you fair and square,\" my dad said. \"So the rules are, you can't steal our pumpkins!\" After a little while, I heard it again. THUMPITY, THUMPA, THUM, THUMPA, THUMPITY. Dad opened the door. More pumpkins. And again, after a little more time had passed, THUMPA, THUMPITY, THUMPA-THUMP, THUMP THUMPITY. More pumpkins. For several hours it went on: THUMP, THUMPITY, THUMPITY, THUMPA-THUMPA, THUMP. More pumpkins, of all shapes and sizes. At one point, we simply stopped opening the door and turned out the porch light.