Inquiring minds (those not addled by the vindaloo chicken wings and infarction-inducing pasta dishes) wanted to know: What was this, some sort of coup d’état? Pressure from the sinister taskmasters upstairs? [We don’t have an upstairs, Karr. —Ed.] Or maybe more of a Cottonelle® “Clean Getaway?” Catterson, improbably dark mane gleaming in the spotlight, chin pumping to the Rush soundtrack he’d slipped into the MOTY videos, wouldn’t be drawn out.