It is that time of year again.

When the demand for Xanax, Paxil and Lexapro causes a surge on the black market. Christmas comes early for drug dealers and pharmacists here in Red Sox Nation. Manny, Jacoby, Papi and Pedroia cause more angst to us in October than Ellen DeGeneres’ pampered pup will ever experience over the recent doggie debacle.

Who cares where that mutt ends up? The four-legged friend is still going to have a more expensive hair cut and wear more designer duds than I ever will. Never mind all this canine crying, there are far worse things to shed tears over when the leaves start to tumble off the trees. Like for example, hooker-themed Halloween costumes.

Now, I have written about the exact same topic for the past two years in hopes of starting a movement liberating ladies from these polyester horrors. It has not seemed to have worked. At a costume party I attended last weekend, there was enough fishnet to catch Moby Dick.

There was a sexy Strawberry Shortcake, a ghetto Goldilocks and a Raggedy Ann that looked like she was going to amateur night at Macs Two in Billerica. I don’t know why the racy referee bothered to wear a skirt, she was showing more than a centerfold. That outfit made a few male party-goers yell “touchdown.” Cheesy guys, to say the least.

If you were at the party you’re probably thinking didn’t yours truly have on fishnets ? I admit I gave into the whole scary skank shtick: stockings, heavy eyeliner, overly teased hair and all. But at least I was not the porno translation of nursery-rhyme character — I was Amy Winehouse. After looking at the pictures I should have said “No. No. No!”

Why is the Halloween hooker such a celebrated look? Do we all secretly wish we were one of Hef’s Girls Next Door? Maybe, but definitely not Kendra. DeGeneres’ dog has more brain than that bottle blonde. She would make a perfect streetwalker scarecrow ... “If I only had a brain.”

Maybe I am barking up the wrong tree. I imagine Lowellita loyalists would not object if the naughty ninja turtle showed up at their doorstep looking for a treat. I am also sure that many have a garter belt in their panty drawer as well. It is just my hope that someday I will be able to watch the Wizard of Oz without thinking about Dorothy in patent leather red pumps and a checkered micro-mini.

I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore.

Has Lowellita turned into the Wicked Witch of the city? E-mail lowellita@lowellsun.com.