That sounds like a PC term for multiple personalities - in which case you'd have to change "I" to "we".

Nah, that would be "extremely localized pluralism"

I personally resent being compared to Colonel Samuel P. McPostington.  Most people have forgotten about him, but I haven't.  He was the maniacal villain responsible for the atrocities committed during the early Cola Wars.  Some have even said that he was behind New Coke from the beginning.  Historians generally agree that he was a Knight of the Royal Crown, purposely sowing the seeds of war between Coke and Pepsi in order to weaken the two companies. 

McPostington's diary was discovered some years after his death in 1987.  A misguided idealist, McPosington had an irrational hatred of what he referred to as the "Commoner Colas".  His vision was for the "True Cola" to regain past glory over the broken corpses of the Coke and Pepsi companies.  His plan would have succeeded, but Coca-Cola caught on to what he was doing. 

In what was a top-secret operation at the time, Coke and Pepsi actually teamed up against this common enemy.  They assembled a covert task-force composed of the best-of-the-best of the time: Levar Burton, Duran Duran, Erno Rubik, Pac-Man, Michael Jackson, and the entire cast of "the Breakfast Club".  Michael Jackson was, of course, shot and killed during the operation.  The Michael Jackson Beta Clone, manufactured by the mercenary Disney corporation, was then deployed as backup. As a reward for service well done, the clone was allowed to live the life of the original Jackson after the engagement.

McPostington, who in the end had gone completely insane, threatened apocalypse by shipping 78,000 tons of Pop Rocks into Coca-Cola's Atlanta, GA bottling plant.  In the end, the Coke-Pepsi alliance won the firefight.  Historians agree however, that if the effects of Mentos and Diet Coke were known at the time, the outcome would have certainly have been different.  McPostington, unwilling to be taken prisoner, fell on his proverbial sword.  Several open packages of Pop Rocks and empty cans of the "True Cola" were found scattered about his corpse.

Well, you all know the rest of the story, so I'll stop here.  I just think it a bit odd that we have to share this lunatic's name, is all...

I have a bunch of friends in NYC, and I visit all the time.  This is something I would love to do.  Would I be allowed to wear pants?

Your spoiler tag is where I disagree.  I think Victor was given an unused ritual to test whether it would work, and was otherwise totally disposable.

Speaking of which, during Storm Front, Harry was totally convinced that only a human practitioner could pull of that spell.  I understand that he was very young and even as of GS, he does not have perfect knowledge of everything magical, but he was sure to the extent to limit the suspect pool to human beings.  We never really found out what his reasons were for believing that.

Interesting...

heres one i have been playing with for a while.

Gold.
Shimmering gold moving softly in the wind.
As the bewitched eye follows the brain is shocked back to consciousness by a figure standing impassively, also watching the golden tresses.  For tresses they are, lost from their anchor and blowing gently across the courtyard in the light spring breeze.  The figure turns away, turns their back on the corpse covered in a blanket of shimmering blonde, ignoring the fine threads of hair caught on robes soaked in blood.  The woman (for the figure is female, as is the woman vacant of life sprawled across the dark stone flags) moves to a fountain in the very centre of the sheltered courtyard and begins to wash methodically.  Without turning her head she adresses another, one lost in the shadows of the protecting walls, and a shadow of something else, something other.
"And so she is dead.  Payment is expected by sundown tomorrow."
"It will be there."
"And you?  Will you be there?"
The dark watcher does not answer, causing the woman to turn and address them directly.
"Will you be there?"
Movement indicates a nod, but in the fading light it is hard to be sure.  The woman watches, waiting for any indication of a definite answer.  Finally the dark one speaks again.
"At your stepmothers funeral?  Of course.  Perhaps the key question is, will you?"
Around the base of the fountain blood begins to pool.

I'll read on.. Hooked

I wonder what else my parents lied to me about.  Looking back, i think it's silly that this was the first thought to go through my mind as the monster in my closet was slowly making its way toward my bed.  Well, I think it was a monster.  It could have been George Burns.  One of the two.  It was still six feet away from me, apparently in no hurry. 

I could have used my old childhood method of dealing with monsters-- hide under my blankets.  That wasn't an option.  My flashlight and Teddy Bear were both packed away somewhere.  I decided to do the next best thing.  I picked up my bedside lamp, yanked the plug out of the outlet, and threw it at the thing's face.  It connected... Hard.  I was a quarterback in high school.  Monster George never even flinched.  Hell, it never even attempted to block it.

By this point, the initial shock had worn off, and I was headed toward the door.  The knob turned, but the door wouldn't budge.  The monster continued its patient advance.  It was four feet away now.  I kicked my flimsy wooden door.  Nothing happened, and I'm no lightweight.  I tried another kick and got the same result.  Three feet away.  I couldn't get to the window.  The monster was too close.  Two feet.

It stopped.  It smelled like cigars and mothballs. Maybe it is George Burns after all. "What do you want?" I asked.  No reply.  It just stood there watching me for maybe a minute or so. Then, it reached a withered hand into its rather fashionable jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me.  It turned and stalked back into the closet.

I stood in stunned silence for a while after the thing had left, envelope in hand.  I debated whether or not to open it.  What the Hell?  I opened it, there was a small piece of parchment inside, folded once.  I opened that.  Huh.  I had been invited to a party.