For all the undead sex and BDSM overtones, the vampire genre has always struck me as deeply conservative for its undercurrent of “hearth anxiety,” which is too often reduced to a more specific xenophobic anxiety about racialized others. More generally, the genre fetishizes and eroticizes the worst case scenario of us opening our doors to new social intercourses, and it coming around to bite us in the ass. To whom have I offered a cup of tea, and how am I to respond to this stranger at my doorstep? Have I add-friended a nuisance, or worse, a liability? I know I’m supposed to be thinking about a decade’s decay in government and the oil-rush of media oligarchies, but instead I find myself staring at the food stains on my pants and wondering about RSVP emails. Hopefully by the 20th anniversary we’ll have won back some measure of sociability.