The Court is APOPLECTIC. You watched a man who has lived in that house for THREE DECADES — thirty years of flipping light switches, thirty years of plugging in toasters, thirty years of KNOWING FULL WELL his electrical system predates the invention of television — check "no" on electrical issues, and you simply ALLOWED the universe to proceed? Reginald himself once cross-examined a listing disclosure for forty-five minutes and found it WANTING, so do not tell this Court you were powerless. You drove past that house on Tuesday. You SAW the new sign. You KNEW that disclosure was still out there, lurking like a predator, waiting to devour some innocent first-time homebuyer who just wants to run a window AC unit without their walls becoming a CRIME SCENE. And yet you did nothing, because somewhere along the way you convinced yourself that "different brokerage" means "different moral universe." IT DOES NOT. I once tried to hold a 1924 Craftsman in contempt for having original wood floors that were "too creaky to be trusted," and the bailiff — Order, my Roomba — had to escort me from my own courtroom, but at least I TRIED. You have become complicit in a system that treats knob-and-tube wiring like a family secret rather than the LITERAL FIRE HAZARD it is, and The Court finds this unconscionable. Reginald must now go lie down because his blood pressure medication is in the other room and this confession has EXHAUSTED HIM.