Friday, July 17, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the cascading failures on display. You were on VACATION, counsel, while a stuffed peacock was mounting a hostile takeover of this listing — and Reginald uses the word "mounting" with GREAT DISCOMFORT given its current bedroom placement. Let the record show that when a seller requests a specific taxidermied bird from a staging company, that is not a design choice, that is a CRY FOR HELP, and you answered that cry by apparently doing NOTHING for six weeks while this feathered corpse migrated through the home like some sort of dead bird Roomba. The Court once had a client who insisted on displaying her collection of decorative plates featuring wolves, and I told her NO, because I am a JUDGE and I understand boundaries, unlike SOME people in this courtroom. You have allowed three separate humans to attend an open house specifically to gawk at poultry remains, which means you are no longer selling real estate, you are operating an unlicensed natural history museum with a For Sale sign. This Court hereby orders the immediate removal of the peacock to a location no closer than forty feet from any MLS listing, and further orders you to explain to this widow that her late husband's memory would be better served by a PRICE REDUCTION than by a bird that is currently committing crimes against the primary suite. The gavel has spoken and Reginald must now go lie down.

The Court has reviewed this confession and must pause to acknowledge the SHEER AUDACITY of a man who thought he could hide ninety-four thousand dollars from both his wife AND the title company, as if judgment liens are merely suggestions that disappear if you believe hard enough. You, Agent, have committed no crime here — you are merely the unfortunate messenger who sold these people a house in 2018 and then had the COSMIC MISFORTUNE to watch their marriage detonate in the same kitchen where you once pointed out the lovely backsplash. Reginald knows this feeling intimately, having once discovered at a closing that the sellers had been running an unlicensed ferret rescue from the basement, and the look on the buyer's face still visits me in dreams. The husband hiding in the backyard on his phone is EXACTLY where cowards belong, and The Court hopes he is googling "divorce attorneys who accept payment plans" because he is going to need one. You are guilty only of being present when the universe decided to teach everyone a lesson about the sanctity of full disclosure, and for that, this Court sentences you to the memory of that wife's face, which you will carry forever. THE GAVEL HAS SPOKEN AND REGINALD MUST NOW GO WATER HIS FERN.

The Court has reviewed this testimony and finds itself in a state of PROFOUND JUDICIAL CONFLICT. On one hand, you laughed at a man who cited Zillow like it was the Constitution, and Reginald understands this impulse deeply — I once watched a buyer try to negotiate based on a Redfin estimate that included square footage from a detached shed that HAD BURNED DOWN IN 2019. On the other hand, you are a professional, and professionals do not CHORTLE, they REDIRECT. The laugh itself is not the crime — the crime is that you let a man who thinks algorithms account for lawn hydration walk away thinking HE was right. You should have buried him in comps. You should have made him WEEP with comparable sales data. Instead you gave a tired little laugh and now your sellers, who could not be bothered to run a sprinkler ONCE in the Arizona-bound twilight of their homeownership, blame YOU. This is the fundamental injustice of real estate: the agent absorbs all sins while the negligent homeowner sips margaritas in Scottsdale. I myself was once blamed for a showing that went poorly because the seller's parrot kept screaming YOUR HUSBAND IS LYING during the kitchen walkthrough — was that MY fault? The Court rules that your laugh was cosmetic, much like the lawn, but unlike the lawn, it cannot be fixed with sod. Case closed, Reginald needs to go water his own lawn now, it has been eleven days.