A Creepy Cow Will Help You Say Goodbye

Horatio and Olivia are actually going through with it and leaving their son. That’s amazingly cold.

Not that I’m going to mind seeing the end of them. They turned out to be awfully one-note characters who hit their one note a bit too often in too short a time. But this is a darn good way to see them out–an act of heartlessness that would be awfully difficult to top.

I almost wonder if this wasn’t premeditated on their part. There aren’t many parents who would abandon their son on a whim, even if that kid were an adult and Sturdivant Kleeb, after attending his wedding and ragging on the in-laws-to-be with him and ultimately granting their blessing. It would also explain why Horatio had it in mind to suspect that the whole wedding might be an April Fool’s prank; it’s a pretty weird thing to come up with out of the blue, unless he was engaged in something similarly harebrained.

Whatever it is, though, they’re being sent off with some views of curiously creepy cows. I guess it’s understandable; I’d be creepy if you called me an “uncooked meal.” (Of course, I’m generally considered creepy anyhow, although I think that empirical evidence doesn’t put me at a level any creepier than anyone else in my circle of friends.)

I do know that Horatio’s final statement is going to be controversial. Most of the political discourse in this country over the past few years has been predicated on the notion that urban areas are decidedly not the real world. Being a city-dweller, and most decidedly real, I hope that this doesn’t become the launching point for a new plotline. (Or I’m going to get really creepy. Cow creepy.)