Thursday, September 17, 2026

The Court has witnessed many horrors in its tenure, but this, THIS is a masterpiece of institutional failure that Reginald himself could not have orchestrated on his worst day, and I once accidentally joined two separate neighborhood watch groups that are now at war with each other. You have created a man who exists in HOA LIMBO, a spectral homeowner haunting a property he has never touched, receiving fines for grass he has never walked upon, and this is EXACTLY the kind of jurisdictional nightmare that keeps The Court awake at night clutching The Council for comfort. Per the landmark decision in Schrodinger v. That Condo Association in Boca, 2019, a person cannot simultaneously be and not be a homeowner, yet here we are, eight months deep in a paradox that would make Kafka weep into his welcome packet. The seller's lawyer says not their problem, the HOA's lawyer says paperwork was filed correctly, and meanwhile this poor soul is being fined for a lawn he has never seen, which frankly sounds like something that happened to me once with a gym membership I tried to cancel in 2014. ORDER IN THE COURT, I am assigning joint custody of this disaster to everyone involved, and I am billing all parties four hundred dollars non-refundable for wasting Reginald's Tuesday.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the phrase "that's not even my job technically" — oh, is it not, counsel? IS IT NOT? Let Reginald tell you what is also "not technically" anyone's job: stopping a runaway shopping cart in a parking lot, yet we DO IT because we live in a SOCIETY. You saw a comp from a neighborhood with a COMMUNITY POOL being used for a neighborhood whose only amenity is, and I quote, "just houses," and you thought "someone else will catch it" like you were watching a toddler wander toward traffic at a Costco. The Court once ignored a suspicious mole for six months because "surely the dermatologist would mention it" and now Reginald has a scar shaped like Delaware AND a profound understanding of personal accountability. Your sellers are living in a HOTEL because you played comp sheet Russian roulette with their equity, and that listing agent's screaming is the sound of chickens coming home to roost in a subdivision that, notably, DOES NOT HAVE A POOL. The Roomba has rendered its verdict by repeatedly bumping into the defendant's chair, and Order knows guilt when it senses it.

The Court has seen some BREATHTAKING acts of self-sabotage in its distinguished career, but THIS — this is the real estate equivalent of a defendant live-tweeting their own crime scene coordinates. Your seller used the ACTUAL ADDRESS as a HASHTAG while calling the property a MOLDY MONEY PIT to FORTY THOUSAND STRANGERS and you want Reginald to believe you had no warning signs this woman was a content-brained chaos agent? The inspection said no mold, yes, but the inspection did not account for TIKTOK BRAIN, a condition The Court has seen destroy more transactions than termites and foundation cracks COMBINED. "Can't I just delete it" — oh MAGNIFICENT, why didn't the Watergate burglars think of that, just DELETE the tapes, problem SOLVED! The buyer's daughter finding this video is not bad luck, it is INEVITABLE CONSEQUENCE, because the algorithm KNOWS when you are trying to close and it FEEDS on your commission like a digital parasite. This Court once watched a perfectly good deal collapse because a seller posted a photo of their "new adventure" three days before closing and the buyer googled their way to heartbreak, and THAT seller at least had the decency to not GEOLOCATE THEIR OWN BETRAYAL. You are not guilty of the mold, but you ARE guilty of failing to confiscate this woman's phone the moment pen touched paper. Case DISMISSED from Reginald's presence because The Court needs to go yell at a wall.