Shalom, chosen ones. So I was sitting in the cabin Saturday morning, enjoying my caramel coffee and a meager bowl of cereal when I heard a knock at the front door. It looked to be an officer of the peace, or at least an overweight birthday stripper very convincingly costumed. I put all the illegal stuff away and answered the door.
RetiredJK: "What can I do for you, officer? Donut, perhaps?" (Snickering)
Officer Harris: "Hello, I'm officer Harris. I'm looking for the mad blogger known as RetiredJK."
RJK: "You have found him."
OH: "I'm responding to a complaint from a neighbor that you may have trespassed on her property. Do you know a redacted------ down the road? Did you remove some rocks from the road in front of her yard?"
RJK: "I did indeed, they were a hazard to everyone."
OH: "Well, yes, this lady is a bit-- off-- and I spoke with the Homeowner's Association President and he says you were indeed righteous to do this." (I had never thought of myself as righteous before, so now I can add another positive attribute to my already inflated self-image.)
OH: "But she did accuse you of trespassing on her land, and said you were quite threatening when you removed the rocks from the road. She also said that you introduced yourself as Mohammed Abdul."
RJK: "That is true, but never was I threatening. I think this woman is simply accusing me of threats because she is a racist."
OH: "I'm going to warn you for trespassing, just to get this over with, I'm not even going to write it up. Can I have your full name and birthdate?"
RJK: "I wasn't trespassing on her property, though."
OH: "OK, I'll just let her know that I spoke with you. She's a bit mad." (I assume he meant "mad" in a mad hatter sort of way.)
I'm hoping to get an official copy of the incident report, I will post this online if I am able to. I couldn't get a picture with the sheriff, though, to celebrate this proud moment of homeowner civil disobedience.
On I ventured to Denver for the weekend, meeting a couple friends from high school for dinner and drinks. One of my friends' friends showed up, and they were named "Parker" and "Collins," tying them for whitest-named people along with "Dax," "Logan," and "Colby"....
I took a cab to Flamingo Court in Denver to meet with my other friends, and there we engaged in several "round"-style songs: first, "What What" by Samwell, best known for Butters' rendition of the song on South Park: "I said what what, in the butt... you wanna do me in the butt? OK." I can't remember what the second song was, but needless to say, our round-singing skills are a bit rough since we finished third grade almost twenty years ago.