Aggravated Menace 2 Second Life Society

Holy Prepuce! seems to have taken a sober turn of late, which was never my intention. Just as I was preparing to subject the readership to more of the same (in this case a response to Linda Hirschman's Slate op-ed on reclaiming the morality of abortion in the Democratic platform), the Internets coughed up this thing of beauty.

The arrest of 33-year-old Kimberly Jernigan for attempted kidnapping, burglary, and "aggravated menacing" brought my original conception of Holy Prepuce! back to light. And that conception was to provide an outlet by which you, the reader, could gain insight into the astonishing range of expression given by fellow citizens to what Justice O'Connor once described as "the right to define one's own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life."

Jernigan's recent journey into the mystery of existence began when she met a 52 year old Delaware man in the virtual universe of Second Life. This being Second Life, naturally the gentleman did not manifest himself in middle aged, mid-Atlantic human form, but rather as a lion. Based on my limited exposure to Second Life, day-to-day existence consists principally of participants selling each other virtual jewelry, then furiously bonking on "SexGen beds" during global warming seminars at virtual ski lodges. So it should come as no surprise that Jernigan and her leonine acquaintance soon commenced a romantic--and sexual--online relationship.

All was well and good until the couple agreed to meet in the real world ("First Life"?) and the flesh-and-blood Jernigan proved not to the King of Beasts' taste. Not a woman who gives up easily, Jernigan hatched an ingenious plan: she would kidnap her ex-lover, teach him the error of his ways, and start a new life with him "out West." For reasons not made clear in news accounts, Jernigan's initial attempt to abduct her ex at gunpoint from his Pennsylvania workplace proved unsuccessful. Her second attempt, which involved posing as a local postal worker, also failed. (Media accounts differ as to whether Jernigan is legitimately employed as a postal worker in her native Durham, North Carolina.)

Events came to a head on August 21st, when the former beau returned home from work and was startled to find a laser sight illuminating his chest. By the time police arrived, Jernigan had fled, leaving behind a pair of handcuffs, a roll of duct tape, and an adorable Corgi mix named Gogi, whose snout Jernigan had unceremoniously duct-taped shut. Borrowing a page from Jack Ruby's playbook, Jernigan had apparently brought the dog to the scene of the crime, then improvised after she realized his barking might foil the plot.

An all-points bulletin went out for Jernigan's 2008 Kia Rio, which Maryland state troopers eventually spotted at I-95's Chesapeake House rest stop. A BB gun and laser-sight-equipped Taser were recovered from the vehicle, and Jernigan was arrested following the classic "brief struggle."

My delight at these events is of course marred by concern for Gogi, who had the misfortune to be caught up in humiliating circumstances far beyond his understanding. (Fortunately the Delaware SPCA reports that Gogi is none the worse for wear following his ordeal, and is no doubt available free to a good home.) But Jernigan's saga revisits many beloved Holy Prepuce! themes, of which I had lost sight during this recent political bent:

• Virtual worlds begetting real-world violence,
  
• Lunatic kidnapping plots,
• Questionable behavior in general, and
  
• Pornography as the inescapable endpoint of technological innovation.

On this last point, may I just add that while I applaud the technical achievement, whichever animator programed Second Life to allow human/lion sexual intercourse really needs a different hobby.

Flight Status: Flight Risk

Rule # 1 of successful blogging: add value to information. To justify his bandwidth, the blogger must create, discover, or improve knowledge. And so I am faced with a problem. Clearly, today's post must be about yesterday's NASA love triangle fiasco. The problem is that the story already exists, everyone already knows it, and, definitionally, one cannot improve on the most awesome thing that has ever happened.

No, there is no point in going over the details of how Astronaut Lisa Marie Nowak, Navy Captain and mother of three, became the rival of space program engineer Colleen Shipman for the affections of fellow Astronaut Bill Oefelein. Nor how, after learning that Shipman would take a commercial flight from Houston to Orlando, Nowak drove the 850 miles to intercept her, wearing a diaper to avoid bathroom breaks. Nor... no wait, must go over that one: wearing a diaper.

And there's no need to describe how Nowak, sporting a wig and trench coat, pepper-sprayed Shipman in the Blue Satellite Parking lot of Orlando International Airport. Nor how police found Nowak stuffing the wig, trench coat and a BB gun into a trash can, while carrying a duffle bag that contained $600, a brand-new steel mallet and buck knife, and "3-4 feet of rubber tubing." Nor that Nowak had apparently ridden a shuttle from the airport's LaQuinta Inn, where police would later search her car and discover latex gloves, Shipman's itinerary as printed from Oefelein's computer, detailed maps of the airport grounds, and a list of items including the wig, the knife, and something called "ammo 9."

What can I possibly add to this? Oh sure, there's the obvious "flight risk" joke, which I thought myself pretty clever to have come up with until Jay Leno used it last night.

At least I can be helpful and provide you with links to the important documents: the initial charging affidavit, the second charging affidavit (not thinking the attempted murder is going to stick, guys), and Shipman's affidavit in support of her application for a protective order.

And, for what it's worth, a few observations: First, this story is made all the better by the fact that its players are not just among the scores of "Astronauts" that NASA trains but never puts in space. Nowak flew on Discovery last July and is considered an expert in operating the shuttle's robot arm, and Oefelein piloted the same orbiter just two months ago. Fewer than 500 human beings have ever flown in space, and two of them are involved in a love triangle that necessitated the use of rubber tubing, a steel mallet, and the LaQuinta Inn airport shuttle.

Second, the common denominator in all sensational crime seems to be poor problem-solving skills. Take Scott Peterson's problems, for example: failing marriage, affairs, mounting debt. Good problem-solving skills solution: get a divorce, declare bankruptcy. Scott's solution: tell new girlfriend he was a globe-trotting widower, kill Lacy two weeks later and dump her body in the Berkely Marina during a Christmas Eve "fishing trip," then phone new girlfriend from New Year's Eve candle-light vigil for missing wife, claiming to be in Paris. I can't say what would have been the best solution to the Nowak/Shipman rivalry, but I'm guessing it didn't involve diapers.

Third, speaking of diapers, I might point out that Nowak benefited from years of NASA research into adult waste collection garments. The story of space flight is in many ways the story of human excrement containment engineering. When Grissom and Young blew the hatch after a week in space on the first Gemini capsule, a rescue diver actually passed out from the stench. But today, an Astronaut can drive non-stop from Houston to Orlando swaddled in odor-free absorbency.

Finally, how cool must it have been for Officer William Becton, no doubt used to filling out "unemployed" or the like on his charging affidavit forms, to type in the following: