Been watching a lot of Criminal Minds as of late. I know. Huge shock there. Ian watching a show about serial killers is SO out of the ordinary. AJ Cook is hot. I don’t even like blondes that much but man I’d eat my own arm for a chance to sniff her belly button. She can get it, keep it and do whatever she wants with it. Ok… TMI. My apologies. Anyway for those who have never seen the show it’s about a FBI task force named the BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit). Their job is to capture serial killers, serial rapists, pedophiles, mass murderers, arsonists, etc in an attempt to profile their behavior for use against other sickos. It’s nowhere near as hokey as the CSI family of cop dramas though. It often tells tales of some pretty grizzly acts of human depravity not much different than what you find in the news any given day.
How does this tie into our cats?
Last week I had a case that needed solving. I had come in from running some errands to find multiple crime scenes. There was a poop in the bedroom, a pee in the bathroom and a gross heinous explosive puke in the bedroom closet. Immediately I cordoned off the areas to prevent the crime scene from being contaminated. I’ve logged plenty of years as a CD (Cat Detective) so I knew my keen detection skills would be needed on this one. An initial survey of the scene provided immediate results. I ascertained that it was not a tandem act but in fact a single criminal I was hunting. The two Cats of Interest have long and extensive criminal histories dating back to their earlier childhood. The fact that they’re brother and sister lead many to believe that they orchestrate crimes together but in fact they are competitive. Very rarely do they ever work together yet they both admire one another’s work. To my shock and dismay I ended up seeing an episode of Criminal Minds that called “The Last Word” where two serial killers were essentially competing against one another. This led me to believe I was dealing with a creature far more complex than I anticipated.
Both siblings withstood grueling minutes of interrogation without cracking. I didn’t have enough evidence to pin it on either one specifically and feared I would not be able to solve the case before Suzanne’s return from Ottawa. After the clean up crews came in and cleaned up all the evidence I sat in my office trying to figure out who did it. Precious hours were ticking away. Everyone knows a case becomes incredibly harder to solve after the first 48 hours so I was hard pressed to find something to pin on one of them.
24 hours gave way to 48. Suzanne had returned home and I still couldn’t figure which one of the culprits committed the triple caticide. The last thing I needed was a serial shitter with a puking fetish in the office. Desperate, I tried to free my thoughts up by watching Criminal Minds yet again. I can’t recall the specific episode but as I sat there with the crime scene photos scattered across my desk, sipping my coffee, Agent Hotchner outlined a profile to the group of detectives and beat cops he was addressing. He said the perpetrator was narcissistic, had medium to low level education and obsessed with the act he had committed. The thing that stood out the most is when he said that the killer wants control over the situation and will often insert himself into the investigation. He’ll be at the crime scene, posing as a bystander, observing what the cops are doing. Sometimes he may even call in crimestopper tips to the cops leading them to the crime scene.
It was at that moment it all came back to me. I recalled when I first happened upon the first crime scene in the bedroom. As I surveyed the carnage I remember looking back towards the doorway. There he stood. Partially obscured by the doorframe but staring at me with his piercing orange eyes. My coffee slipped from my hands and shattered on the ground like US Customs Agent Dave Kujan’s did as I realized who had done it.
I raced into the bedroom once again and opened the door to the closet. There he stood; going over the crime scene I had cleaned up only a couple days earlier. He looked up at me with those cold orange eyes and smiled.
If you have been never read The Oatmeal’s “How To Tell If Your Cat Is Plotting To Kill You” you’ll get a kick out of it. It gives some amazing and amusing insight into the mindset of cats. Cat owners deal with a variety of quirks with regards to their furry little companions. It’s never a dull day.
I’m getting a little fed up with how trendy being a geek has suddenly become. Big Bang Theory is one of the most popular sitcoms nowadays. ComiCon is suddenly THE place to be for all things “cool”. Fantasy books are all the rage. Technology is hip and happening. C’mon! Gimme a fucking break. As if we’re about to forget the centuries of malicious torment people have put us through for our eclectic tastes.
Yes I say we.
I belong to an exclusive club that was formed long before man became civilized. When the monolith suddenly appeared on the rocky outcropping, we were the ones scrawling pictures of it on the cave wall while the others beat each other to death with bones. Geeks and Nerds banded together to bring forth the Renaissance. Who else would question the world being flat? We accidentally triggered the Spanish Inquisition and Salem With Hunts because people came across some of us LARPing in a fields. And yes, we united with the Nerd Brotherhood once again and brought you the Interwebs. They wanted to prove it could be done, we wanted unlimited access to porn.
We do not take kindly to people referring to themselves as geeks. The first rule of Geekdom is that thou can not call oneself a geek unless thou art christened a geek by a geek. Just saying you’re a geek gives you no credibility. Your actions and words must be deemed worthy by a geek of equal or superior heraldry. We recognize, protect and govern our own.
You must also realize that we geeks have many clans. We can specialize in various areas but rarely more than three or four at a time. Anymore would tread upon the hallowed ground of Nerdom. A Geek-of-all-Trades is an often coveted but rarely obtainable position. Techies, dweebs, movie geeks, lit geeks, tv geeks, comic freaks, fanboys (or girls), trekkies, LARPers, video gamers, deadheads, gearheads, potheads, vampers, roleplaying gamers, bunny huggers, tree biters, non-hostile celebrity stalkers, impersonators, mimes, geographers, professional wrestlers, chefs… we go by many names. I am an artist and a movie geek which gives me an almost archon-like position in our caste system. Though I have not achieved the rank of “Movie Geek of Epic Proportions” I strive towards it daily. Not a day goes by where movie dialogue doesn’t filter its way into my conversations. I am a quote machine and have an uncanny knack for recognizing actors before they were famous and predicting if they’ll skyrocket (Hi Jessica Alba – Remember Flipper?). My redundant movie knowledge qualifies me as a living breathing IMDB which makes me utterly awesome at parties.
Tread carefully when you refer to yourselves as a geek ladies and gentlemen. The real geeks out there don’t take kindly to your fly-by-night trend whoring. We are proud of who we are and dread having the bandwagon tip over from all of you jumping aboard. Do not sully what has taken us a millenia to cultivate. We like what we like because it makes us happy. Not because it’s cool. It’s always been that way. Always will be.
Piss off and get your own culture.