Like a lot of people, I went through a brief phase where I read various serial killer books. I never got the whole thing of glorifying serial killers, however, as most of the real life variety appear to be enormous losers. The serial killer concept is of someone who is empowered, but actual serial killers tend to be anything but empowered. Nonetheless, I did read a number of the novels with fictionalized murderers and liked some okay. I’m uncomfortable with bad things happening to good people, so this somewhat limits my ability to enjoy the genre. I read A. J. Holt’s Watch Me, found it absolutely delicious and unexpected, and pretty much stopped picking up that variety of thriller.

I’ve got a soft spot for whatever the term will eventually be for long-form cable television shows which emphasize quality, character, and complex story lines. So I gave Showtime’s Dexter a chance. If you have not caught this terribly fun show yet, I’ll give the overview without spoilers. In the first season, we meet Dexter Morgan, whose day job is blood spatter forensics for the Miami PD and whose nighttime avocation is meeting out justice. In the second season, we see what happens when there is a romantic triangle featuring a nice girl who knows nothing of Dexter’s hobby and a crazy bad girl who would not mind dating a killer.

The dialog is snappy and the story lines are very tidy and satisfying. Among other things, the show explores themes of alienation. The scenes are darkly hilarious where Dexter, while thinking very abnormal thoughts, fits in fine at his normal job with normal fuckin’ people. Michael C. Hall, best known for his portrayal of David Fisher on Six Feet Under, plays Dexter Morgan with beautiful nuances where he comes across as simultaneous milquetoast normal and very disturbingly creepy. The viewer is tempted to write off his vigilantism as virtue, but the problem with that is Dexter’s monstrous pleasure in torture-killing strangers. It is a show which manages to be both a lot of fun and food for thought. Plus it somehow strikes a balance where the gore and violence are neither phony nor unbearably grisly, which no mean feat, given the subject matter.

If you would like to see the first episode of Season 3 of Dexter for free two weeks before it airs the end of the month, you can go to this special Blue Blood Dexter preview link, press Watch Now, and enter the password Lady Killers when prompted.

People tend to be most open-minded about trying new things when they are first being romanced. For example, most people are extra-likely to taste a new food or listen to a new band then they start dating someone new. By this scientific equation, I hope that readers perusing the erotic portraiture of BlueBlood.com will be feeling extra-receptive to new ideas.

One of the most important messages I would like people to internalize from Blue Blood is that having purple hair or a tattoo or a pervy wardrobe in no way makes a person a second class citizen. You are entitled to the rewards of the larger society. You are entitled to the same love as anyone, whether or not your sex is a bit kinkier than average.

The ancient Romans celebrated Lupercalia on the Ides of February by whipping hot girls with portions of sacrificed goat. (The Ides is the 15th day of a month, for those of you who have repressed your Julius Ceasar studies.) Historians can’t agree on the origins of Lupercalia or precisely which gods the festival honored. They are pretty solid on the format for the party though. If you wish to throw a Lupercalia event, you will need a variety of eligible maidens, two goats, and a dog. The idea is to sacrifice the animals and then hit the girls with pieces of them in order to ensure fertility, painless childbirth, and general sensuality. A match-making lottery is optional but considered to be part of the tradition. Sort of the bloody pagan version of a 70’s key party. Blue Blood is not really down with the animal sacrifice portion of the show because we love our dogs and goats far too much for that.

In non-ancient Roman and non-70’s times, having an unusual piercing or wearing your lingerie in public can mean that your love life is limited to brief conversations with strangers off MySpace you message for 2am threesomes. But it doesn’t have to. There is no rule that thinking for yourself, owning your sexuality, and dressing flamboyantly equals eschewing all sentimentality and always feeling alone on Valentines Day. So I’m thinking I know more people who celebrate Valentines Day than Lupercalia.

Historians appear to be even more confused about the origins of Valentines Day than they are about the origins of the older Lupercalia. There are three different dudes various factions present as being the patron saint of romance. Most folks these days celebrate Valentines Day February 14th with hearts and flowers and, of course, sentimental greeting cards in both digital and paper form. Some scholars argue that the match-making lottery tickets of Lupercalia were the first Valentines. I feel that a date lottery ticket is no more a Valentine than the keys to some guy’s Porsche (unless maybe I got to keep the car.) The medieval Xtians appear to have come up with a variety of different mythologies and rituals in attempts to co-opt and dilute the pagan Lupercalia rites. Difficult to discern which one was the most successful, but, by the 1700’s, it is well-documented that there was a thriving Hallmarkian industry which created pre-made cards for Valentines Day and produced books with suggestions of how to express one’s love.

So flowers are pretty and an obvious gift, but how did hearts get associated with Valentines Day? Cadbury, founded in 1824, is credited with producing the first heart-shaped box of chocolate. Perhaps it is because of the way one’s heart beats when aroused or in love. Not that a heart shape is shaped much like a human heart. There are vaguely disgusting treatises on how what we consider to be heart-shaped is more similar in structure to a cow’s heart than a human heart. I’m not sure if those who study this are proponents of cattle-fucking or what.

Whether you prefer pieces of sacrificed animals or pieces of chocolate, there is someone out there who is the perfect match for you. If you have already found them, Valentines Day is the perfect holiday to celebrate your good fortune. As part of Blue Blood’s Valentines Day greetings to all of you, Forrest Black and I photographed a professional piercer, the lovely purple-tressed Natalie Addams, cutting out her own heart, gift-boxing it, and sewing up the “wound” with quite genuine play piercings. The Cadbury chocolate boxes of the mid-1800’s were made with velvet and mirrors. So we just had to say Happy Blue Blood-style Valentines Day with a bloody heart in a spooky ornate gift box! We’re traditional like that.

Happy Valentines Day!