I received a wrinkled envelope containing an anonymous note made from letters cut from magazines. “Pssst.” was all it said. I looked up and down my beach, flitted to and from my skybox. Nope...no one there. I was intrigued. Who left it?
And then a link – literally – was sent to me - http://otherpeoplesplaces.wordpress.com/ *– detailing the exploits of SL’s premier cat burglar. I’d heard about him! Velvet unicorn paintings were being ripped off from around the grid and people were getting worried. I'd heard there was no building, no security system, he couldn't breach. As I pored over his journal entries I became increasingly excited - what did he want from me?
He wanted to meet. What do you wear when meeting a prowler? Nothing sparkly. He might grab it like a magpie. I tucked a pistol under my skirt and opted for trench coat and getaway thigh highs. I arrived at our agreed meeting place, palms sweating, gripping my notepad and pen.
And then there he was, right in front of me, knitted cap pulled firmly around his face, scratching his back with a lethal looking crowbar. Did I feel threatened? Yeah! I sat still and looked about. I was in his lair, surrounded by loot. He had taken me to his hub of operations. He began to talk and I was surprised by his gentle voice. Not at all what I expected.
He started prowling only lately, out of necessity, he told me. The recession had hit him hard. “It seems really unfair that people have pixel food in their fridge...and some have none.” Ah! A sensitive burglar. A bit like the amateur cracksman A. J. Raffles who justifies his thieving thus, “We can't all be moralists, and the distribution of wealth is all wrong anyway...” Mainly, our burglar prefers lifting collections of fantasy art that won't be missed, rather than decorative arts, furniture, or other objects. However, his sensitivity soared to new heights recently, exemplified by his – er - “adoption” of a baby that he found during a prowl, left alone, in a less than seemly home environment. “I know this is going to look all Limbergh baby and sh*t…and I don’t care. In the long run, this little tiger will thank me. And if worst comes to worst, in a few years...I have an accomplice...”
This burglar works hard. I asked how long it takes to scout a prospective home. “For every 20 places I find, 1 or 2 maybe are worth telling the story...All of this stuff...is not faked...these are not things I place in peoples homes. Everything you see here or in my stories is 100% authentic and found in their houses.” For each exploit, the burglar writes descriptions and shares the slurl so you can authenticate his movements if you care to (I tested out a few slurls and confirm their validity.)
I looked across at him, slumping slightly over the table, and sensed a bit of pathos about him...he seemed, to me, to be a lonely burglar. “What have you learned about people, from exploring so many homes?” I asked. “How do people express themselves?” He sighed. Through “Lots of porn. Lots of self-portraits. Lots of wolves.” I began to think it was less about the loot and more about revealing the proclivities of some of our residents. He serves as the Phantom Gourmet of SL aesthetics.
We spoke about his greatest challenge so far (the Gorean castle) and he offered a few tricks and tips for maneuvering around security systems (which he may share with us). Although the burglar works alone, he asked me to ask you for tips and comments. If you know of a place that begs exploration, drop him a line via his blog and he’ll follow up.
As for future goals? “I think a visit to a
*Be warned, his discoveries are NOT PG-rated.
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