So I've been yelling at the TV again...

I am brilliant. We know this. But some times my own brilliance astounds me. (Don’t rain on my brilliance parade, aight?) I’m watching Criminal Minds. I don’t watch it often but when I catch it, I tend to enjoy it (due in large to Greg from Dharma and Greg but I digress). The killer provided the team with several clues from which they deduced that the killer was referencing a book published in 1963. As I surveyed the clues, including a Chaucer poem, a butterfly, a key, and clues indicating a British author – I couldn’t help but scream to the poor nerdy guy trying to figure it out “John Fowles!! The Collector!!!” I shouted this several times before the nerdy guy figured it out. Sadly, he had never read the chilling tale of love and obsession; it’s a personal fave from high school days. Apparently I need to put myself on some call list for obscure literary references provided by serial killers. I would rock that job out.

Speaking of Fowles: The Collector, his first novel, is truly amazing and more than slightly creepy. This creepiness is even more chilling and well-worth devouring in The Magus, my favorite Fowles novel. And this is the book nerd signing off.