Also, I hate having to deal with the SPD, but I’ve spoken with some kind and competent officers. The one who handled my case was nice enough, but said he probably couldn’t do anything. He then repeated this lamentation to one of my neighbors who reported an incident right after me. Yes, two more cars were vandalized just days after mine. But even if my hearse wasn’t the target of someone’s rage against death humor, I don’t feel much better. We put cameras all over the city, but we can’t put them in garages in quiet neighborhoods where we park our most expensive possessions.

I didn’t expect the cops to do much, since a broken headlight is considered a petty crime. Another thing I didn’t expect was how long it would take to report the incident. I discovered the damages on Saturday and called the non-emergency number. I was told that my issue would receive more attention if I could provide (mostly unhelpful) security footage. The property manager gave me the footage on Monday, and for the next three days I played phone tag with SPD’s crappy reporting system.

On Tuesday, they left a voicemail to recognize the fact that I had called a long-ass time ago and they still hadn’t sent anyone. The call back number went to a recording from the City of Seattle. The recording basically said, “Someone from the city called you. There’s no way to tell which department. There’s no way to tell who it was. If you’re trying to get in touch with someone here, go back in time to before the call was made and answer your phone, dickhead.”

Go ahead, give it a ring: (206) 733-9093.

While the folks at the SPD are doing their best to be public servants, whoever set up their POS phone system took the money and ran.

Lance: Still got your Malibu?
Vincent: Aw, man. You know what some fucker did the other day?
Lance: What?
Vincent: Fucking keyed it.
Lance: Oh, man, that’s fucked up.
Vincent: Tell me about it. I had it in storage for three years, it was out for five days and some dickless piece of shit fucked with it.
Lance: They should be fucking killed. No trial, no jury, straight to execution.
Vincent: Boy, I wish I could’ve caught him doing it. I’d have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It’d been worth him doing it just so I could’ve caught him doing it.
Lance: What a fucker!
Vincent: What’s more chickenshit than fucking with a man’s automobile? I mean, don’t fuck with another man’s vehicle.
Lance: You don’t do it.
Vincent: It’s just against the rules.

So, for the three of you who decided to visit this site before it is ripped from my cold, dead hands, I thought I’d create a post.

Driving sucks right now, so I’m only doing it when I absolutely have to. Here’s a picture of me driving in the summer, holding a snake that some guy gave me.

Renault and Ford have joined forces to create the perfect small car for women.

Mixing the Renault ‘Clio’ and the Ford ‘Taurus’ they have designed the ‘Clitaurus’. It comes in pink, and the average male car thief won’t be able to find it, let alone turn it on, even if someone tells him where it is and how to do it.

Rumor has it though, that it leaks transmission fluid once a month, and can be a real bitch to start in the morning! Some have reported that on cold winter mornings, when you really need it, you can’t get it to turn over.

New models are initially fun to own, but very costly to maintain, and horribly expensive to get rid of. Used models may initially appear to have curb appeal and a low price, but eventually have an increased appetite for fuel, and the curb weight typically increases with age. Manufacturers are baffled as to how the size of the trunk increases, but say that the paint may just make it LOOK bigger.

This model is not expected to reach collector status. Most owners find it is best to lease one, and replace it each year.

Now you know.

A little backstory: Pike Place Market is a big tourist attraction in Seattle. It is situated between our downtown area and the waterfront. The market spans a little three-block street, which for some reason is open to thru-traffic. It is also open to pedestrians, cyclists, vendor tents, weird dudes with snakes, street performers, and every other thing that makes driving impossible. You’re not going to score a killer spot in front of the first Starbucks or a waterfront with thousands of visitors a day. Don’t even try. Just don’t.

Here’s a map of the street on which no one should ever drive:

Thank you for your attention.