Thursday, October 22, 2026

The Court has reviewed this chronicle of suburban warfare and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL with frustration. You watched this man execute a SEVEN-DAY PSYCHOLOGICAL OPERATION against your transaction and your response was apparently to stand there like a decorative shutters that serve no functional purpose. He parked a TRUCK on the easement, counsel. He TOOK NOTES ON A CLIPBOARD. That clipboard was a declaration of war and you treated it like a neighborhood quirk. Reginald himself once had a neighbor who quote unquote casually mentioned to potential buyers that my fence was quote slightly aggressive and I did not simply ALLOW this, I documented everything and presented a fourteen-page rebuttal at the next HOA meeting which I was not technically invited to but ATTENDED ANYWAY. You had three inspection reports proving no basement flooding and yet you let this man whisper lies to an appraiser like some kind of easement gremlin. The fact that he listed two weeks later with YOUR comp data is not a twist ending, it is the OBVIOUS conclusion to a sabotage campaign you watched unfold in real time while doing absolutely nothing. This Court finds that you were outmaneuvered by a man whose entire strategy was standing in his yard, and that is a humiliation from which your professional reputation may never recover. The gavel has spoken, Order the Roomba is circling in what I can only interpret as agreement, and Reginald must now go lie down.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the sheer bureaucratic violence inflicted upon this agent's soul. You stood there, silent, while a grown man asked why a thirty-seven-year-old debt to a DEAD ROOFER was complicating his life, and Reginald must ask: what were you supposed to say? That our entire system of land records is held together by filing cabinets belonging to deceased mothers and title officers who shrug and say close enough? The canceled check was FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS SHORT and from the WRONG YEAR and they cleared it anyway, which means everything I thought I knew about title insurance is a LIE, and I am now questioning several of my own property transactions from the early 2000s. I once waited eleven months for a thank you from a seller who I personally drove to three different notaries because she refused to sign on Tuesdays for reasons she would not disclose, so I FEEL THIS IN MY BONES. The roofing company owner died in 2004 and yet somehow reached forward through time to delay your closing by three weeks, which is either a legal failure or a haunting, and The Court is not qualified to rule on the latter. This agent is guilty only of enduring the unendurable, and the seller's ingratitude is hereby entered into the permanent record as Exhibit A in the case of Humanity v. Basic Decency.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the audacity on display. You shopped for roofers like Reginald shops for gavel polish — with DESPERATION and ZERO STANDARDS. This "Mike or Mark" character examined a roof for eight minutes, which is approximately seven minutes longer than he examined his own moral compass. The Court notes that in Shingle v. Integrity (2019), we established that any tradesperson willing to "sign whatever you need" is either a saint or a future defendant, and the Court has OPINIONS about which category Mike-or-Mark falls into. But here is what ENRAGES Reginald most: you performed a MIRACLE of crisis management, you moved HEAVEN and EARTH and three separate roofing contractors, and this seller — this UNGRATEFUL WRETCH who was already packed and had MOVERS COMING FRIDAY — had the AUDACITY to leave you a review about COMMUNICATION? THE COURT ONCE RECEIVED A ONE-STAR REVIEW FROM A CEILING FAN AND IT STILL STINGS. You are guilty, but honestly, the Court suspects everyone in this transaction deserved each other. The bailiff will now escort you out while Reginald stress-eats crackers in chambers.