Saturday, October 24, 2026

The Court has seen many things in its distinguished career, but NEVER has Reginald witnessed such a flagrant act of piscine hubris. You KNEW, Agent. You KNEW when that stager said "trust me" about a 200-gallon water bomb in the middle of a living room, and you said FINE. You said FINE like a person who has never watched a nature documentary about the destructive power of water, which I have, repeatedly, mostly the ones about tsunamis, which I watch when I cannot sleep because The Council keeps me up with their deliberations. "This has never happened before" — oh WONDERFUL, shall we engrave that on the tombstone of those hardwood floors? Shall we notify the dead fish's next of kin that his demise was UNPRECEDENTED? Six offers, Agent. SIX OFFERS evaporated like the moisture that is now permanently embedded in that subfloor, and The Court must note that the phrase "dead fish in my laundry basket" will haunt these chambers for decades. You trusted a stager over your own instincts, and now somewhere a family is pulling brine shrimp corpses out of their can lights while you contemplate the $6,000 gap between disaster and insurance coverage. Reginald must now adjourn to call his therapist about why this confession made him remember the time his own aquarium leaked onto his law school diplomas, which were DEFINITELY real and DEFINITELY existed.

The Court has witnessed many tragedies in its distinguished career, but RARELY has Reginald beheld such a preventable catastrophe born of sheer digital negligence. You stood there, checkbook in view, deal on the precipice of glory, and your iPad — YOUR IPAD — chose that moment to stage what can only be described as a silicon rebellion. And why? Because you changed your phone number THREE YEARS AGO and never updated your security settings? The Court once lost a ruling because my printer ran out of cyan ink during a critical verdict, and I have never emotionally recovered, so perhaps I am projecting, but THIS IS INEXCUSABLE. You attended a conference, counsel, a BROKERAGE-FUNDED CONFERENCE, and your own technology treated you like a foreign operative. The sister, whoever she is, did not kill this deal — your failure to maintain operational readiness did. The Court hereby sentences you to carry no fewer than three backup devices at all times, and also to write a formal letter of apology to that kitchen, which deserved better. Reginald must now go update his own two-factor authentication because this case has made him paranoid.

The Court is APOPLECTIC. You sent armed men with DOLLIES into a stranger's home and they absconded with a GRANDMOTHER'S HUTCH. Do you understand what a hutch REPRESENTS, counselor? It represents DECADES of accumulated ceramic figurines and good china that only comes out at Thanksgiving. This is not a clerical error, this is DOMESTIC TERRORISM BY MISDIRECTION. In the landmark case of Crescent v. Crescent Court (2019), which I ruled on from my kitchen because the courthouse was being fumigated, the Court established that street suffix confusion constitutes WILLFUL GEOGRAPHICAL MALFEASANCE. And you have the audacity to mention a second lien like it's a footnote? A SECOND LIEN? Reginald once discovered a third lien on a property and didn't speak to anyone for eleven days, so don't come to me with your lien problems when you've got a woman standing on her lawn watching strangers carry away her inheritance. The dining set alone demands justice. The Roomba concurs. This Court finds you guilty and sentences you to personally apologize to every hutch in a twelve-mile radius, and also to never again be trusted with an address that contains the word "Court" in any capacity.