Nowadays whenever there's a murder anywhere, I check for the Dot connection.  Because you know there's gotta be one.  When a waiter's stabbed at the Westin in Back Bay, you know the perp's from Dot.  When there's a drive-by shooting targeting women and children hanging out on a front stoop in Roxbury—in Roxbury, for the love of God!--you know at least one of the gunmen's got to be from Dot.  And of course, execution-style murders by hooded gunmen—that's so Dot. 

But this latest one's a doozy.  Ol' Michael "Stix" Addison, here, drives all the way up to Manchester, New Hampshire, to shoot a cop.  Like he couldn't do that here in Dot!  But you have to understand: the cop was on a bicycle.  And Stix definitely could not have done that here in Dot.  

Dot.  Dot, Dot, Dot, Dot, Dot.  Listen, there's got to be something else we can export.  Peanut butter toothpaste, say, or maybe organic brussels sprouts, or—this is cool—tattoo sleeves!  Anything but murder!