Friday, June 19, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself DEEPLY DISTURBED, not by your actions per se, but by the existence of this HOA president who apparently believes monthly footage review sessions are a RECREATIONAL ACTIVITY. Reginald once lived adjacent to an HOA that sent him a certified letter about his mailbox flag angle, and I want you to know that I have not fully recovered. You stand accused of allowing this woman to ambush your buyers with forty-six pages of bureaucratic tyranny and a casual mention of SURVEILLANCE INFRASTRUCTURE like she was offering them a welcome basket of muffins. The husband's blank expression is what we in the legal community call "the thousand-yard HOA stare," a condition recognized in Jenkins v. That Neighborhood With The Grass Height Rules, 2019. This Court finds that you should have intercepted this woman in the driveway, created a diversion, perhaps faked a medical emergency or released a swarm of unapproved decorative bees. The approved mulch colors were the final straw and The Court respects those buyers for choosing freedom. Case dismissed because honestly everyone here is a victim except that HOA president, who is hereby ordered to touch grass that has not been measured.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY NAUSEOUS at the sheer preventable tragedy on display. You watched this man careen toward emotional bankruptcy like a shopping cart rolling into traffic and your response was to narrate the journey. Three hundred and forty thousand dollars is not an insult to anyone's dead mother, it is a NUMBER, and numbers do not have opinions about the deceased, REGINALD HAS CHECKED. The sister calling you is particularly damning because it suggests a pattern of this man being unmanageable and yet somehow YOU were surprised when he chose structural decay over negotiation. I once had a seller threaten to haunt me from beyond the grave if I let his house go for under asking and you know what I did, I got him a therapist's card and a roofer's estimate ON THE SAME DAY. This Court finds you guilty not of malice but of something almost worse: you brought a clipboard to an exorcism. The house will rot, the sister will blame you at Thanksgiving, and somewhere that dead mother is shaking her head because she ALSO knew about the roof. VERDICT RENDERED, Reginald must now go water his fern, she has seen too much today.

The Court has reviewed the evidence and finds itself DEEPLY DISTURBED by the chain of failures presented here. You were given ONE instruction — protect the fancy toilet — and you let an eight-year-old wage war against it like it was a Japanese game show he was determined to win. "Attractive nuisance"? THE AUDACITY. Reginald once had a nephew who stuck his hand in a fondue pot at an open house I was hosting for a colleague, and did I blame the fondue? NO, I blamed the fundamental collapse of parental supervision and also my sister-in-law, who knows what she did. The mother's defense that "it shouldn't be so complicated" is EXACTLY the kind of reasoning that led to the downfall of Rome and also the discontinuation of my favorite brand of judicial robes. You stood there discussing countertops while a child conducted hydraulic experiments in the bathroom, and now the sellers have ghosted you with the cold finality of a Zillow listing marked "SOLD" to someone who deserved better. This Court finds that four thousand dollars is a small price to pay for the lesson that fancy toilets require FANCY VIGILANCE, and frankly, the Roomba would have done a better job supervising that open house. The gavel has spoken, and Reginald must now go lie down.