Sunday, May 31, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the phrase "I took the inspector's word" as though inspectors are oracles dispensing sacred truths from atop Mount Disclosure when in fact they are merely humans with flashlights and opinions. You saw the words "previous" and "treated" and your brain simply STOPPED WORKING, like a Roomba hitting a sock — and yes, Order is nodding in solidarity from beneath the bench right now, but Order knows to CHECK THE PERMITS because Order has JURISDICTION. Reginald himself once trusted a contractor who said a deck was "basically fine" and now Reginald has a meditation garden where that deck used to be, so The Court understands temptation, but The Court did not have a FIDUCIARY DUTY to a nervous buyer standing in a garage full of LIES. You told your broker the deal "fell through" which is technically accurate in the same way that the Hindenburg "landed" — The Court finds this level of semantic gymnastics impressive but NOT EXCULPATORY. Eleven thousand dollars in termite damage, both sides of the commission incinerated, and somewhere in that subfloor right now tiny insects are holding a victory parade in your honor. The gavel has spoken and Reginald must now go water his meditation garden because this ruling has resurfaced FEELINGS.

The Court has reviewed this testimony and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at what has transpired here. Let Reginald be perfectly clear: an inspection is a SACRED COVENANT between buyer, seller, and a man with a flashlight who charges by the hour, and this agent treated it like a suggestion scribbled on a napkin at Supercuts. HIGHLIGHTS. She missed a scheduled inspection for HIGHLIGHTS. The Court once postponed its own appendectomy to attend a final walkthrough, and this woman cannot be bothered to unlock a door because her fifteen-year-old needed to achieve the specific shade of blonde that apparently requires IMMEDIATE ATTENTION on a Monday afternoon. And THEN she has the AUDACITY to bring this child to the rescheduled inspection, where the daughter proceeds to audition rooms like she is already mentally rearranging furniture in a home YOUR BUYERS are attempting to purchase. The inspector had to tell a teenager not to touch the water heater, which is a sentence that should never exist in a professional transaction. That $150 is gone forever, swallowed by the void of maternal indulgence and keratin processing, and The Court finds this loss to be both financial and spiritual. VERDICT STANDS, and Reginald must now go lie down.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the notion that a non-titled party was permitted to approach a DocuSign envelope with his grubby little clicking finger, unleashing what can only be described as technological chaos upon an otherwise functional real estate transaction. This is precisely the sort of procedural apocalypse that Reginald warned about in his landmark treatise "Who Let Him Click That: A Study in Preventable Digital Disasters" which I self-published on Lulu in 2022 and which has sold eleven copies, nine of which were purchased by my mother. You claim ignorance of technology, and yet THE TECHNOLOGY KNEW EXACTLY WHAT IT WAS DOING — it saw an unauthorized signer and said "yes, consume this transaction, lock it in digital amber, let Maria drive home in peace while chaos reigns." The listing agent's question mark emoji shall be entered into evidence as Exhibit A in humanity's decline, and I am personally offended that you had to spend your Sunday regenerating documents when Sundays are for watching HGTV and silently judging people's backsplash choices, as The Court does religiously. In the matter of Rodriguez v. The Spinning Wheel of Doom, 2019, we established that any transaction coordinator who fails to implement non-titled party click prevention protocols is civilly liable for the agent's subsequent emotional damages, and I see no reason why that fake precedent should not apply here with FULL FORCE. The Court rules against you, against your transaction coordinator, against DocuSign's robot support system, and against whatever primal urge compelled that man to click before his wife — Reginald must now go lie down.