Crime Fighter

Most people (including my girlfriend’s father) hate lawyers. In an attempt to simultaneously maintain longstanding convictions and welcome me into the family, he decided to give me, or rather my occupation, a new name. Instead of referring to me as a lawyer, he suggested that since I work for the government, I should refer to myself as a “crime-fighter.”

In my mind, crime-fighter is practically synonymous with super-hero; and as someone that grew up with comic books, role playing games, and Saturday morning cartoons, this appealed to me immensely.

I was having trouble coming up with a name for my super-hero self until Jenny found it. She was at a graduation celebration when someone tried asked after me, but couldn’t remember my name. Instead of using my given name, they named me Angus for my red hair and a beard. After some mental gymnastics, Jenny caught on and was able to give the update, but in the process recklessly extended the circle of people that know my secret identity.

With a name like Angus, it seems hard to avoid a super-hero costume consisting of Kilt (bold, but not too flashy), Sporran (the highland equivalent of Batman’s utility belt), and Dirk (in case I need to fight any knife-wielding super-villains). For a little extra flash, I like the idea of wielding the Bag-Pipes-of-Justice. And in homage to Popeye, I like the idea of eating haggis for strength or berserker rage, depending on the situation. To disguise my identity, I could take off my glasses and put on a hat (like Superman in reverse).

Super heroes often represent the duality of life with their super-selves ordinary alter-egos forced to occupy the same body. Lawyers too occupy a similar duality: trusted advisor and guardian of justice, juxtaposed with the greedy charlatans of so many lawyer jokes. It is hard to hold such duality in the mind without giving each its own name. Clark Kent and Superman, Bruce Wayne and Batman, and now Gavin and Angus.