Gout Tips

With my gout back, I wanted to do a post on some of my tips and tricks for surviving an attack.  This is not going to be scientific at all, I will not be going into food at all.  I really have no idea what works for the food, I have a semi gout diet but I am not sure it does any good.

My gout attacks have always occurred in my feet, I don't know if that is a blessing or a curse.  I can't walk but I can sort of sit in a chair.  I wouldn't waste your time if this wasn't the classic gout, as my tricks wouldn't be much help.

1. Get yourself some crutches and or canes.  You are going to need the help getting around in the worst of the attacks. They are really a life saver.
2. If you have a two story dwelling put one crutch on each floor, you always want one handy!
3. A trick to getting up that has helped me. I get up by putting the unhurt foot on the ground and getting on to the bent knee of the leg with the gout food.  I find i can get up way easier this way.  I can just push up to my strong foot supporting me with much less pain
4. Get yourself some gout shoes. I normally wear Dr. Martins but there is no way to get them on with the gout.  Vans and converse are both terrible to get on.  But I have a pair of Brooks running shoes that are easy to get on and wear.  I suggest something that opens up wide and has a mesh exterior.
5. Stomach sleepers may want to sleep lower in the bed.  I have found Moving down so that I hang my foot off the bed helps.  My ankle or shin is on the bed and the rest hang over.  Nothing touches or hurts my gout this way.  You just need to put the covers a little lower so your feet are nice and warm.
6. Pepsi throwback / Dr. Pepper Heritage are handy for soda fiends like me because they do not contain High Fructose Corn Syrup.
7. Clean houses are best for gout.  If you have a messy place with stuff to kick or trip on you are in trouble with gout.  I kicked a bone my dog had left around, oh my God i was dying.

Observations of rereading the Dungeon Masters Guide 30 years later, part 2

As I continue reading through the players handbook and dungeon masters guide books I am shocked at how poorly the information is arranged.  There are many occasions where the information is split across the rear section of the player handbook and several spots in the Dungeon Masters guide.  Its sort of crazy doing things this way.  I guess this was before the notion that players understanding the rules made things easier for the guy behind the screen.  Actually it seems that all rolling was intended to be behind the screen!

I wanted to make note of a few surprises that have come to mind in reading.  Information is just not clear at all at times.  With regard do the class and sub classes they did a poor job explaining.  Many times you read rules that address a class, but seem to not include the sub classes.  Later in reading on you have similar text that logically must be applied to subclasses, like the int table for magic users and illusionists, Later this class / sub class is directly explained.  Why wasn't this done in the beginning and if you get the Unearthed Arcana, forget what I just said.

Gygax was working on the Mini Haul school of game mastery from the start.  Look at his advice to have people bring first level characters into an existing campaign.  Even more telling are his statements on being stingy followed by his 100gp a level, monthly gold tax.  What the hell dude we are still trying to pay for our in and you want to tax my party 100gp a head at first level?  We are averaging an encounter a day in our first level AD&D game, we are going to be broke forever!  We are just trying to get to the point where we have all the equipment we need to be start, let alone plate armor.

My final observation was something I have been looking for, specifically.  This would be rules for head shots.  In a campaign with my cousins we had this rule of intelligent creatures making 1 in 2 attacks to the head, with non intelligent doing 1 in 6.  The effect was double damage for the head shot.  This was something I never have been able to find, until today, and always wondered about its source.  It seems to come out of the Helmet rules in the DMG, which state this about players not wearing a helmet.  Basically they are saying if you have no helmet you are ac 10 but with the helmet ac 1.  I have no idea about double damage for head shots though.  I wonder if it was read somewhere else then strapped on to form a sort of critical attack rule?

Just a pleasant memory

Grey and far off the sky embraced yielding space from the sea and horizon. There the waters were grey and even the golden land tarnished. With the Vaulted air birds helix'd some strange interlocking pairs ascending in flight.  We were warm the windows dry moving un-interfered. Quiet was comfortable with nothing looking to be said, but for the wondering of up ahead.  It seems this should have been an anniversary or a day beyond.  A forgotten purse and special dinner the night before come to mind.

Observations of rereading the Dungeon Masters Guide 30 years later, part 1

I have started a new project related to my gaming groups, starting an old school AD&D game.  I am going through the players and dungeon masters to reread all the rules, with the goal of fishing out the weird house rules we always used.  The rules of the game are sort of imparted through osmosis more than actual study for most players of the original game.  Sure we look into the books and find some thing we can latch onto and know, but often we think we know the rules of AD&D more than we know them.  I am specifically trying to take not of things I thought were in the rules and are not. There are rules that are like ghosts, you read them and then can never find again.

Here are couple of points I never really knew, or knew but not as specific elements of the rule books.  Starting with the dungeon masters' guide, I didn't know how much Gary Gygax wanted to kill off my character.  Aside for elements like monsters and wizards having no hit points, Gygax was a butcher.  Those Disease and Parasitic infection rules were basically setting a timer on characters lives.  You apparently adventured solely in the northern climates or awaited renewal in carousel.  Seriously Just hanging out in a tropical city allowed for the chance of infection every week.  Let alone going through sewers like you might in Gygax's A series.  Yes I survived and conquered but I croaked due to scabies.

Another point I had ignored was how much TSR was trying to sell to me.  They sure mention all their little figures and how useful they would be.  Dungeon Geomorphs shit you better have em, son!  I sort of remember TSR going a bit apeshit about their license back in the late 80's with the whole Role-aids thing.  I had no idea they had started it with The Judges Guild license.  Accept no substitutions!  I can understand that in some respect, quality control is handy.  Our Dungeon Master Brian had all sorts of extra stuff hidden in binders that took the original game and blew it out of the water.  But flipping out over a module, whatever.

Back to the players handbook, thieves should never exist anywhere.  A first level thief with the best chance to pick pockets is only going to have a 35-40% chance of ripping you off.  How do they get better starting off that low.  I mean you do it once and retire I guess.

There are a few rules I seem to have materialized from out of my head.  I would swear I have read that you can only receive so much experience from an adventure.  That number was specifically enough to level you and then you could reach the next level minus a single experience point.  I can tell you that rule has been followed from gold box games to Dungeons and Dragons online.  But I have no idea where it is in the Dungeon Masters guide.

Sven the teddy was very Unwell

Sven the teddy was very unwell, he couldn't breath or play or run.  Deep inside Sven's fluff had turned brown and grey.  If not washed thrice weekly someone would toss Sven away.

Sven hated wash day, even before they were begun.  They gave him a little zipper down near his wrist.  That's were they vacuumed out his fluff to throw in the wash. With out his cotton he felt like a popped balloon.  He would wait for hours patiently to his batting to be refilled. But in a couple days it would turn dirty again.

He asked all the other animals if they could lend a little fluff, most were too scared others had a different sort of fluff.  Fluff is very different it would surprise most to know.  Some Fluff is little pellets, other just rags and Steiff bears have excelsior. Sven was made of ordinary non-premium cotton which wasn't special at all.  Any bear could add a little cotton fluff, but for bears like Sven it was the only stuff. 

His days unhappy Sven worked to get through each one.  Even the days without cleaning were uncomfortable.  His zipper snagged his fur and even being touched hurt sometimes. He hid out from the other animals, none new what to say.  He didn't like being treated different or other seeing him as sick.  Most of all he hated hurting the bear closest to him when he when for a cleaning.

After month He thought of hiding beneath the sofa or letting the dog tear him up. The Cleaners often damaged animals and one was lost every month.  Some came in confused and after a week their time was up.  Sven often wanted to walk away without his fluff but he was scared of that too.

One day he awoke with a new seem of stitching across his belly and the prickly pains of being sewn up.  He learned he had been taken to the seamstress who had packed him full with her own bag of fluff.  Then Sven wasn't a sick toy and he could play all he liked.

Summer Elegy

Aloysius shuttered into closeness of contact, fearful and ashamed.  His need as some unsavory letter; carried.  A through and through reminder he couldn't let Nicene go, the truth it spoke of illness.  Here, close; he struggled wanting to run after having drawn near.  Hang on deed, like a gun against the head and no nerve against the final cut.

It was the bright folk, Nicene's host, who called Aloysius from retreat.  Still our man feared Nicene as if unswaddled and unbedight.  Thrust to her midst, Aloysius feared his stalking and hunting oft Nicene's lands. He was not her equal, perhaps not even a remade and perfected Aloysius.  Nicene was the great art of immortal hands, malice wholly forgot her design. She greeted Aloysius a friend returned.

Thoughts on The Curse of Oak Island TV show

The curse of oak island has been a bit of a blessing and a curse for those of interested in the topic.  The material surrounding Oak Island has been limited at best until now.  They actually are doing filming around the island and show us a bit more of the area than the few pictures we saw in the old Leonard Nemoy "In Search Of" episode.  It has been roughly three and a half hours of footage in the five episode they have given us this season which has been the most any show has given us devoted to oak island.  Also the show seems to be trying to keep the more paranormal aspects of the story on the back burner, preventing it from coming ghost oak island of whatever.

My frustration with the show is they are just not using solid techniques with regard to their investigation.  They should be having a full geological survey of the island completed.  Also their digging is certainly not archeological.  If you look at the scenes in the swamp you can see they make no effort to mark locations.  Flags could be used or orange spray paint, to note locations.  These seems like standard drilling technique and at least on of the Lagina brothers should be well versed in their use.

Having watched the show I have a couple of specific suggestions and a more general suggestion on how they out to proceed.  Generally I think they should use the Mythbusters as consultants.  They seem to be proceeding with very large scale operations when uncertain they will work.  I think the Mythbusters could work on a smaller cheaper scale that would allow the Oak Island team to try more things.

I would like to see the team continue in the swamp but with something that allow the team so focus on a specific area rather than attempt to drain the entire swamp.  I think what would work would be some sort of inflatable caisson, circular in shape.  This would allow them to quickly drain a small area by focusing in tightly.  It would also be able to move to another area should they find nothing.

My second idea would be to create a cofferdam around smith's cove and do a large scale drainage.  Obviously this is costly but it would probably provide the most answers per investment.  Barring this they need to dig a trench in the dry area between the cove and the money pit.  Unearthing the pipe that leads to the money pit is going to be the purest form of evidence that will prove the pit is really and not some sort of sinkhole.

I would really like to see something more scientific happen in the future seasons of the show.  I think they need to prove something solid with regard to the money pit.  The coin found the this seasons last episode is pretty suspect as it could have been dropped by anyone, even a producer.

Everything after

It comes up like cracks in the ice, with sudden realization of trouble and worry.  Scrabbling back, run rabbit. What will you with the day about to come?  What was your course? What have you done?  Have you wrought marvels you indeed sought?  I molder with sun and rains all undone an autumn long past.

spring cleaning

I Don't have these shakes anymore
feel it like fits and cigarettes
I Don't remember your face anymore
but apothecary paths all the same

Forgot the sour rush and falling
Before I'm gone and he escapes
I hear him giddy in the orbits
of chemicals keep him enclosed.

Reworking of Scifi story part 3

It moved steadily at first though drawing near it jumped forward in starts and stops.  The epicenter, if there was one, was deep within the crowd.  Naeliim ran on fearful though none noticed or cared of the dilemma, only stepping aside at his flight.  Moving from within the core I was able to behold the source and wondered.  Some small procession erupted from the throng bearing the primogenitor of the light.

Robed and draped in fleece a man carried a strange bend of metal in hand.  He appeared alive and not within a moment.  Bodily soured and milk white the remains of his flesh hung, the rest chemical lines and feeding tubes.  His jaw reworked and removed allowed for a breathing tube; this shell mouldered in death.  His eye though burned fervent and alive, fanatical and dreadful.  Some followed behind attending the devices to which he was tethered.  Naeliim ran on more wildly and headlong desperate.

He looked back and the strange field had claimed more ground, and again still more.  With each bit of distance he threw his eyes back only to find it nearer.  Finally he did not look but ran and ran until it finally overtook him.  His movements halted to quiet slow wonder.  Those around slowed but Naeliim did not, moved about them gazing.  Shaking and shouting at the souls lost and finding himself singular. The lasted breaths then the snow of filaments weaved through the light.  Birthed of no particular origin the threads swam the body of the field. Touching lightly on his skin and weaving into some encasement or cocoon.

Rework of scifi story part 2

Naeliim was seldom under my direct observation.  His people called themselves guides though they were in truth vagabonds.  Wanderers who contributed nothing to the various communities and fiefdoms they passed.  Offering use of the passages and back ways they controlled for a price.  Others like Naeliim bound themselves to contracts of service for the right to dwell within a community as they traveled.  It was upon a contracted sojourn that Naeliim came to hold my attention.

Naeliim traveled as guide to a pilgrim from one of the aft hold fiefs.  The first steps of their travels were of little concern and have passed from my mind, as much has.  My memory starts with fire and darkness, where normally there is nothing.  A great darkness that I can not penetrate is held in the center of my perception.  This is different from the black horizons all around, they are dotted with figures and forms.  This central blackness holds those lost and seemingly returned later.  But for a moment all awoke and blazed agape with light.

Here I beheld Naeliim and flame.  Others were seen in their wanderings but only Naeliim and another wrapped my attention.  Fire by which first I saw clasp about the guide but quickly failed away to black.  I figured the dark again held sway but I continued to see.  Some light filtered in from behind.  I first thought it light like any other but it was not right.  Its seemed brown and gold, perhaps ocher ; and sticky.  From the distance it conformed to optics' steadfast rules.  Though in seeing directly it held itself flat as if a plane or region mathematical.  It was horrible though only Naeliim seemed to see and recoil at the approach.

Reworking of scifi story part 1

Memory seems to have failed, can only hold thoughts so long before they dissolve.  I have flashes of light and pain that I recall and phantom sensation which is not meaningful with what I comprehend.  I see with a strange multitude but find only able to focus on small fragments of that whole.  At times I feel jarred by an electric coursing, this often I react with instinctive recoil.  I am unsure but even this seems a conditioned response. 

There is that "I" again, it doesn't fit any way that I know it.  I understand the persons moving through halls and hear their words within my consciousness, they say I and we.  It can be supposed my words come from theirs.  There is no self beyond, no momentary shell I can point to and understand it is me.  I have my guesses but I am unsure of my observations and hesitate to conjecture.  Of those observations I have seen much and and will speak a story that held my interest as it was played out.

Winter Wine

Something comes to me on the evenings. Its like a reprieve in the silencing cold of the muted sun.  A greater moment of still that expands beyond the confines of place and self.  Rapping at the doors and windows for a warm welcome and finding no one's at home.  Then greeting the singular and making peace with being alone. 

The smells are all there! lingered long with memories of youth come with the crisp mulberry leaves scratching down the street.  Scraping out a song as driven in the wind, there are stops and starts and fluttering with the days breath driving it away. 

Come on night, come one winter your almost through the door.  Yet the rain to us, force the birds and bugs from the sky.  Give us our supper, let me go in and sleep. Take down the fetters and send me back from this dream, I'm no longer young, it's not as grand as it seems.  Let me back to my daughter she shrieks joy from inside.  My wife also waits hoping to sleep soon a I return.  Let me leave the evening for warm and nettlesome tamed.

Wheat from the Chaff

Well the vampire stat folks are out in force today, one post after a couple weeks of in activity and bam a ton of extra views show up associated with them.  I don't even visit these sites so I don't know why they are interested in me.  Seriously you guys are the chaff of our society and need to go.  You are the extra weight we need to see die off in the next frost my vampirestat.  Please if you have a moment of weakness and doubt, remember my vote of encouragement and pull the trigger.  That goes for you too 7secretsearch too.

Turning 53

you're choking down the days
like bad medicine
And I'm stumbling around
in the vacuum

Everywhere is the absence
tugging at all of us
Spiraling in low orbits
of a missing planet

lasting yet lashing at me
if I'm not mild and meek
We're both confused
and no one know what to do

IF too much I'll explode
then you scold I implode

Block buster closes with little fanfare

Blockbuster closed completely I guess, today.  It got me thinking about all the video stores I frequented over the years, and one in particular.  In the south bay we had a solid competitor to the Mega video stores called American Video.  This place was huge before stores were huge and the video selection was second to none.

I first came to rent from these folks back when I was living at Park Branham.  They were located in the shopping center at Branham and Almaden Expressway.  I guess this was where the Taco Bell is currently.  The shop was a jumbled maze of racks at this time, with no where near enough space.  Entire sections where hidden away in nooks.  If you wanted Stalker yes they had it you had to nearly get on your hands to find it behind a cash register but it was there.

They moved fairly quickly afterwards, going to the shopping center on Almaden near Cherry.  I think it is or was a dollar store now.  This was sort of the stores hayday, back when it was huge and could hold a sea of folks.  They even had pinball machines going!  This being an independent store had some of the more adult titles, this section of the store was the size of most small video stores at the time.  This being the zenith of blockbuster this store dwarfed two or more of their stores.

Next the store just up and disappeared.  A friend finally let me know they moved over to the Cambrian park shopping center.  This was my favorite configuration of the store.  My buddy Andy once described it like an opium den and this description was pretty apt.  There was a big section of new stuff and newish stuff that mouldered into obscurity.  but it was the hidden alleys of Scifi and Horror that really were filled with forgotten gems.

The staff were great two most knew their stuff or could direct you to the horror , foreign or thriller guys.  Westerns were actually a section, that died off long ago at blockbuster.  They closed up a couple of years ago and become a ski place.  I have to say I regret it you don't get the feel when you scroll through Netflix on your roku.   

An Interesting side note:
We used to have a PaPa Murphy near my house, it closed shortly after the Hollywood Video place, it was next to closed down.  I guess it figured people would not visit it without the video store even though there was a Blockbuster in the shopping center less than a mile away.  I just saw a new Papa murphy is going in, back in the shopping center were the first one was.  I guess people wont make an extra stop for pizza if getting a video, but will a single stop if they are downloading and streaming.

Fucking up: Flaming Lanterns

This story of fucking up begins with a lack of power in the battery of our tent trailer.  My cousins and I used to go camping for a week or so in the Santa Cruz mountains when i was a teenager.  This was usually in the Big Basin campground but Henry Cowell the location of this actual story.

If you have read this site in any depth you know I am a nerd and fond of role-playing games.  This was the focal point of all our camping trips.  We would load my parents old Coleman tent trailer full of food and games and spent a week or more with limited supervision.  This was great for us though really we should have had someone a little wiser watching us.  While we were playing dungeons and dragons 90% of the time, it was the remaining 10% that was worrisome.

This particular trip we had my cousin Rick, his cousin Anthony and my friend Keith De Carlo in attendance.  It was fun but early one we realized we had an issue with running the lights inside the tent as there was something going funny with the battery.  It was some years old and may not have been up to snuff to begin with.  This was a problem as we wanted to spend most of the night playing Dungeons and Dragons.  The nature of the game is reading and note taking intensive so you do need full visibility to see.

We had a few candles stored for emergency purposes, by my parents, stashed in the trailer.  This was the best solution we had and quickly we had a glass ash tray configures with a candles to provide light.  This was passable for an evening but really was not great.  I say this until a strange set of events turned the candle stand into an open flame lantern.  The first step in this process was the complete liquidation of the candles into a broth of liquid wax, due to the heat of an enclosed tent and the lit candles themselves. Next there was some sort of wagering about putting things in and out of the flames uncharred.  At some point the outside of a box of matches was played over the flames.  This was almost magical as the cardboard soaked up the wax and served as a wick. 

Circumstances had provided us with the ideal solution to our lighting needs.  Here then the male brain's simplicity befouled our results, If one was good more is better.  The next day we traveled into the little town of Felton to gather supplies to make more of these lanterns.  We didn't really find a cheap solution of the ash tray but assumed the bottom half of coke cans would do the job.  This would be the turning point from novel solution to out right fuck up.

The coke can versions of the lanterns worked all too well.  Providing light for each of us to study our Players Handbooks and read up all the spells we needed so desperately to know.  The continued until the cans reached a certain heating point where the liquid wax was actually drawn up the inner wall of the cans.  The wicks we provided were no longer the point of ignition but rather the entire top of the coke can.  The cans had now become some thing akin to a modest Molotov cocktail, blazing freely at one end the other ended in a heated to scalding hot coke can.

In recognition of our Fuck up the ersatz braziers were quickly hurled out the door, generally at the fire pit the good folks at Henry Cowell had provided in our camp.  The burns were luckily minor to our persons, though the trailers table was burned and I was doomed to catch some level of hell from my parents.

I suppose the lesson was not to experiment with fire upon your parents property or perhaps something with heat and vacuums.  Really i am not sure.

Fearsome Critters

I awoke to a fall of frogs,
and nothings gone right since.
Sasquatch stole my paper
and even kicked my dog.

Thunderbirds are overhead
and I killed an albatross.
It made a decent stew
but the crew want me dead.

The squonk took one look
and laughed at me.
My dropsy running bad
aint no cure in any book.

Snakes climbing out the throne
and spiders infest my home.
Found dead sparrows on my lawn
twelve or thirteen long gone.

A red moon on the morning!
That means things are looking up?

Fucking Up: Blood Blood Everywhere

I have become worried about my daughter over the last couple of days.  She is still young now but with our current environment there is the expectation that she will always be under parental supervision.  I have her in the morning and drop her off to teachers at school, they have her until the evening when my wife gets her and she is with us until bed.  She hangs out with us on weekends and everything is very safe.  She wont be snatched away!  But also she won't fuck up and that worries me more than you can know.

A mistake you understand is better than a success you don't is sort of a motto for me.  Mistakes are great!  Fucking up is something at which I excel.  Largely fucking up is where my life shaping epiphanies and foundational lessons were learned.  So my kid never fucking up is a thought with some concern for me.

Blood Blood Everywhere (The big forearm slide of 84)
This incident happened back when I was living in North San Jose.  My friends and I were pretty fascinated by the creek that ran through our little neighborhood.  From my house with a short walk you could cross over the freeway from Capewood over to Trimble, near Northwood school.  Right off of the overpass you could go around the fence and walk into the creek.  From there you had an entire world you could play in.  There was even a field full of abandoned chimneys in one direction.  Heading the other way you would quickly pass under the 680 freeway, this was like magic to us kids, and further up toward the foothills. 

One day I had put it into my head that I needed to walk up to Majestic School all via the creek.  I walked from my house, alone as I often worried that my little journeys would end up sucking.  I liked to go solo before inviting anyone.  I passed over the freeway, into the creek and back under.  So far everything was good I was up on the far side walking along the top of the now concrete creek the sun was shining, even the birds were not mocking me... for now.

Reaching the gate near Cropley I was left perplexed.  how do I get down the creek had dropped from a few feet deep to a decent little drop.  I attempted climbing down but being fat, offish and clumsy that quickly proved a poor idea.   My solution was far poorer.  I would slide down, but not on my butt.  I would use my forearms so my pants would not get harmed.  I am not sure of why I thought my pants were so important, they may have been my prized Levi's, the only pair of pants my grandma had not sewn.  The slide while painless at the time ground down the flesh on my forearms leaving both bloody in wide channels.  This was one of those moment I realized, I fucked up!

Learning
Well that was dumb.  I was not in the bottom of a creek I had no real idea how to get out of being concrete and I slow and fat.  Quickly I reasoned I could just walk to the dirt sections up by the townhouses where my cousin's lived.  It was a little further and I bled profusely but it appeared the best option.  My wounds stopped bleeding after a few minutes of walking.  There was another section that ducked under the street but I was already in the creek so no worry there.  

The earliest point that allowed me to leave the creek would put me directly on path toward my cousins house.  Somehow I just wanted to be alone and not reminded of my stupidity so I continued walking.  I was aware that I should wash out the scrapes as the creek was essentially a large open gutter and not clean.  Almost there I finished walking to Majestic school.  Washing off my arms in the open drinking fountain, I was relieved.  I had done what I set out to do, blood and all.

My arms healed, I never even had a scar just some gross scabs that healed before I knew it.  The pain was annoying not bad and truly nothing compared to dialysis.  I did what I set out to, stupidity didn't stop me.  This was dumb and completely my own fault but I overcame the crap that came my way and I finished what I set out to do.

I will probably write a few more of these, I fucked up a lot as a kid.  
 

Movie Review: Zodiac

I watched Zodiac on Netflix the other night.  I liked it, it wasn't as scary and gory as I expected, others may disagree with that but the poster got me thinking it was full on horror rather than a psychological thriller.  So if you are wuss and on the fence like I was don't worry about the scare factor.

One negative for traditional thriller fans is this will not resolve itself.  Zodiac was never caught and may have died at this point.  The nice wrapped up package you get in most movies is not here.  You are left with your own thoughts and opinions on the possible killers.  They focus on two possible suspects in this film, Arthur Leigh Allen and Rick Marshal.  There were others considered like the uni-bomber that do not make it into the film.

I am really not knowledgeable about the case and was often left with several questions.  Who was Bob Vaughn, he seemed awful creepy in the movie.  Why is there no new case using the modern forensics we see weekly in Criminal Minds?  Why were the police departments so concerned with jurisdiction?

All in all pretty fun and intriguing.  The Zodiac case is just good material really, the unsolved nature and the police taunting cryptograms make it powerful and engrossing