I’m fairly certain this was only the third time I’ve been called, during my entire ridiculous life. Twice to Lackawanna County Court in Scranton, and once to Los Angeles County, but after we’d already moved here. So, I’ve only actually reported twice. It seems like some people are called all the time, but not me. Sometimes I wish I’d get involved in a long drawn-out trial, maybe with sequestration and all that. I think it would be interesting, for sure. But I’ve never made it anywhere near an actual jury. I’ve only done time in the pre-jury holding pen, and been dismissed.

Yesterday I went down there and entered the garage where they provide free parking. That thing must have been built during the 1930s, and was extremely narrow and dark. It felt like something out of SAW. There was a lot of construction going on in there, and many of the parking spots were filled with heavy machinery. I just kept climbing up, up, up, and was possibly in a neighboring building at the end. Then I emerged into sunlight on the roof of this horror movie, where I finally found a few open parking spaces. Grrr…

Some guy in a giant pickup truck parked near me, climbed out, and immediately said, “This is bullshit.” Being on the same wavelength, we began a conversation. He was there for jury duty too, and predicted we’d be “out in four minutes.” I told him that’s pretty optimistic, and he repeated, “Four minutes!”

We went looking for an elevator, and never found one. While searching, an older man joined us and he was listening to an obnoxious sports talk radio show through his phone. And that thing was cranked! Everybody on there had a strong NY/NJ accent, which makes a person sound perpetually exasperated. Going on and on about the Yankees, etc. And the three of us walked down, down, down the stairs… ’cause there was apparently no longer an elevator in the building.

The old dude didn’t say a word to us until we got near the courthouse. Then he pointed and said, “You gentlemen are going to want to go through those doors there, and I’ll see you on the inside!” Then he walked away with his impossibly loud talk show blaring. Who the fuck was that guy?

The room upstairs was packed to the gills, and there was an overflow section in the hall, also super-crowded. How many people do they call to these thing? Holy shit. There must have been 200 people, and that’s not an exaggeration. I found an open chair, but was wedged between two guys who were slathered in cologne. I’m in hell… I confirmed to myself inside my head. Last time I went through this thing I was there for eight hours, before they mercifully let us go. Nobody said a word to me, I just sat for eight hours and a man eventually came in and told us we’re free to go. But it wasn’t so freaking crowded then. This was going to be an ordeal.

Then I heard the radio show again. Off in the distance, but getting louder. It was that dude, now wearing a fancy blazer, greeting people as he walked. I still don’t know what his role was there, but everybody knew him, and he knew everybody. And he was still tapped into NYC sports talk at a very high volume.

After a while a gentlemanly older man in judge’s robes appeared and asked us all to squeeze into the main room. The temperature inside was way too high, probably because of the overload of humanity in there. I looked around and was disgusted by many in the crowd. People wearing sweats… cargo shorts… Spongebob pajama pants… There were many baseball caps and hoodies with construction company logos on the back. Some big woman was piled in a chair wearing an Ocean City 2015 shirt. I wondered if she’d decided to dress up today and rejected the 2011 shirt?

Finally the judge started talking to us, but in a very hushed tone. I could make out maybe every other word. Very soft spoken. He was telling a story about Vietnam, where he said he served as a young man. It was heart-wrenching tale, apparently, but it was hard to follow. Then, an amazing thing happened. The guy with the sports talk reappeared in the hallway, with the volume at the same outrageous level. He was way down the hall, but the radio show was louder than the judge. Then the guy called into the show! I ain’t shittin’ ya. He called into the talk show and was on the air.

“Thanks for taking my call, Marco!” he shouted. Right in the middle of the Vietnam tale. “Let me throw a name out at you! Horace Clarke. Are you familiar with Horace Clarke?! Played in the ’60s, fantastic underrated player!” It went on and on, and you could hear both sides of the conversation, because it was on speaker. The judge was whispering his story that probably had a poignant and relevant payoff at the end, and I was 100% focused on this loud baseball talk down the hall. It was crazy! Like something off Green Acres. But the judge didn’t seem to notice, and continued without acknowledging the insanity.

After the talk was over we went back to our cramped seats, and waited. I couldn’t stand being wedged between those two cologne boys, so I got up and began pacing. And I overheard a snippet of a conversation that included the line, “It’s hard to get work as a dietician when you’re a big fat person.”

Eventually a woman appeared and announced that she was going to call 45 names, and those people would be going upstairs with her and “getting to spend the day with us.” So, she started listing ’em off and my name was never called. She took the “lucky” 45, and disappeared. We were told not to move, that somebody would be in shortly to tell us what was happening next. And about five minutes later a guy came in and told us we were free to go. Ninety minutes total… Not bad at all. I was there from 9 to 10:30. A little longer than the 4 minutes my new friend predicted, but I wasn’t complaining. “Screw it. I’m telling my boss I’m on a case. I’m not going back until Thursday,” he told me as we walked back to the scary parking garage. “You sound like one hell of an employee,” I wanted to reply. But I just laughed and wished him luck.

What kind of jury duty experiences have you had? Anything crazy? Please tell us about it in the comments section. Supposedly I’m good for three years now. We’ll see.

Last night I uploaded a new episode of the podcast. It’s available right here, or wherever you get podcasts. Here’s your summary:

In this one, I tell you about our incredibly active weekend that included a radical overhaul of the Surf Report bunker, the surprise arrival of a commercial dumpster in our driveway, and a crazy turn of events while receiving a quote on some extensive landscaping work. I also discuss the great new Deadwood movie and play another message left on the Surf Report podcast hotline that touches off a lengthy story from olden times. It’s a fun episode. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!

Also, give us a call at the new hotline! You might end up in a future episode of the podcast. Just leave a message, ask a question, make a suggestion, whatever floats your ferry.

And the new Deadwood movie debuted on HBO on Friday. Needless to say, I was there with my fuck-counting pad. Check it out. It was still fairly fuck-heavy, but not anywhere near the high bar set by the series. It was great, though. I plan to watch it again real soon. Let us know your thoughts if you’ve seen it.

I’ll be back on Thursday.

Have a great one, my friends!

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When we were in Atlanta we had an HOA, but it was about as half-assed as they come. I’m not even sure what their role was, beyond collecting the yearly fee. It was probably just maintenance of the community pool, and maybe mowing grass in the common areas, and that sort of thing. We never heard about them telling someone they couldn’t paint their garage door a certain color, or anything like that. As HOAs go, this one was decidedly hands-off.

So, our limited experience was painless. But what about you? We all know about the legendary “gargoyle trouble” my friend Chris had, back in the day. Do you have any history with a homeowners’ association? Good or bad? Please tell us about it in the comments.

While I was sprucing up the bunker over the weekend I uncovered a sheet of paper that I grabbed in Myrtle Beach a few weeks ago, while Toney and I were looking at houses and condos. It lists the HOA guidelines for a place called Bridgewater. I have no idea… We looked at so many of them, and all those subdivisions have similar names. But I thought I’d share a few o’ their bullet-points today and get your thoughts. This isn’t the whole list, just the items that I thought were especially interesting:

• Storage buildings are allowed as long as they are approved prior and must match the main house detailing, trim, roof slopes/overhangs and placed on a permanent foundation.
• Above ground pools and tree house are not allowed.
• Clotheslines are not permitted.
• No parking on the streets allowed.
• American flags are permitted, no larger than 4×6.
• Up to four domestic animals are allowed.
• Garage doors must be kept closed when not in use.
• Artificial vegetation is prohibited on the exterior, all other sculptures and ornaments must be approved.
• Surveillance cameras/lights must be approved.
• Fences must be approved. Wrought iron or aluminum, no more than 4 ft high. Black or bronze color only.
• Solar panels are not permitted.
• No window air conditioning units are allowed.

The list goes on and on, but those are the highlights. What do you think? Could you live under such a regime? I don’t personally have a major problem with any of it. Maybe a philosophical problem with all of it, but that’s a different matter. The fence color rule seems rather bizarre, but I’m not super-passionate about my fence color freedom rights. What are your thoughts? Tell us about it in the comments section, if you’re so inclined.

And I don’t know what’s going on with the podcast. There’s a new episode out there somewhere, I’m just waiting for it to come back to me. I’m sure I’ll have it shortly.

Here it is, and here’s the summary:

In this one, I tell you all about our big honkin’ three-day weekend, which included but was not limited to lazy sackism, grilled meats, beer, and baseball. I also talk at length about the Brazil-like weather we’re having and the problems it causes, my recent mastery o’ the grilled meats, and our trip to a fantastic beer emporium. And I also share a recent call left at the podcast hotline. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for listening!

I hope you guys have a great weekend! I’m working on a major bunker overhaul. I’ll tell you about it on Monday unless I completely lose my shit. Which is a distinct possibility?

Take care!

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How’s that for subtlety? Obviously, I’m promoting the use of our fancy new podcast hotline. You can call it any time, and leave a question, suggestion, or comment and there’s a good chance I’ll include it in a future episode of the world famous Surf Report podcast. I’ve featured three or four already and it really adds another dimension to the show. So, give it a try! It’s fun.

Last night at work we had to go into the “storm shelters” again. There were tornado warnings, which I’ve always written off as pure bullshit. However, a year or so ago one actually touched down near us and took out a few businesses, including the Barnes & Noble store and a great sandwich shop called Stations Grill. I believe B&N is back up and running, but Stations has disappeared, apparently forever. So, that sucks. Not only because we lost a kickass restaurant, but also because I can no longer write these things off as a gross overreaction. Wotta ripoff.

Check out these pictures from last year. This is why my “this is bullshit” proclamations don’t carry much weight with people anymore. <sigh>

But nothing happened last night, of course. We just hunkered down for 40 minutes and were eventually given the all-clear. I believe this is the third or fourth time we’ve had to do this over the past couple of years. And yeah, I know the Panera Bread store was completely demolished last year by a goddamn twister, but what are the chances of that happening again? I mean, seriously.

The thing is? If I actually saw or heard a real-life tornado I’d probably pass out and shit on my way down. I’ve been in a couple of situations where it looked like something like that was really going to happen, and it scared me. Once in Myrtle Beach, when I was a kid, camping at Pirateland. Awnings were ripped off campers… trailers were tipped over… It was nothing short of terrifying. And the ocean, which was right there, was like something out of a horror movie. Man, you talk about menacing… So, I’m certainly no storm chaser. But I always assume all these “watches” and “warnings” are the just the result of some overly cautious beancounter somewhere,  covering their ass. Ya know? Perhaps I should be less cynical? Yeah… I don’t see that happening.

For some reason, this episode of This American Life also haunts me. It’s about a tornado striking during a high school prom. I’ve listened to perhaps hundreds of episodes of the show, and that one sticks out in my mind. So, yeah. I guess I have a true tornado phobia. However… I know how humans work, as well. So, I always write off the warnings as utter horseshit until there’s evidence to the contrary.

Have you ever seen an actual tornado? I haven’t. I’ve seen funnel clouds forming in the sky, but they didn’t make it all the way to the ground. Scary as shit, I might add. What about you? I assume you folks who live in the middle of the country see them every day while driving to the bank, or whatever? Tell us about your tornado experiences in the comments. I have none and would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

And speaking of the podcast, I posted a new episode today for patrons. I like it. I don’t always like it, but I like this one. Here’s the brief summary:

A few nights ago I stopped at Sheetz to put air in one of my tires, and this somehow turned into a full podcast episode. The funny thing? It’s one of my recent favorites. Thank you guys for listening, and thanks for the support!

I’m going to work now. A big three-day weekend coming up!

I hope you guys have a great one.

I’ll be back on Monday. Or perhaps Tuesday.

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You can hear all about it in the new episode of the Surf Report podcast. I mean… this was the closest of close calls, my friends. It makes me anxious whenever I think about it, which is approximately once per minute. Click here, or snag it from wherever you get podcasts of the highest quality.

Have you ever come close to clipping a pedestrian with your car? Or maybe you actually hit a few? Perhaps that’s your thing? Hell, I don’t know. But please tell us about it in the comments. I can’t recall coming that close before. It scared me. The adrenaline spike was enormous.

Also, our power went out last night for about an hour and fifteen minutes. Like we’re in freaking Venezuela or something. Our phones kept receiving weather warnings, especially Toney’s. I mean, those things were coming in at an accelerated clip. I thought there was a catastrophic Samsung malfunction, due to the sustained chiming. But I pay very little attention to things like that, ’cause it almost never adds up to anything. Right? Right.

But shortly before 9 on Sunday it was raining and windy, and the lights started into flickering. Everything went down for a split second, then came back up… That happened again, and finally, it all just shit the credenza. We found ourselves sitting in total darkness, like assholes.

We fumbled around and unplugged our computers, hoping they weren’t already damaged by all that stopping and starting. Then we waited. At first, it was kinda fun — a novelty of sorts. The whole neighborhood was pitch black and very, very quiet. Kind of cool.

But it quickly became boring. Within twenty minutes I was about to crawl out of my skin. This is bullshit! Both boys were at work, and the power was out there too. Eventually, they came home and reported that all the traffic lights were down. It was anarchy! We were undoubtedly just a few hours away from cannibalism.

I was pacing around with my kickass high-powered flashlight, going onto the deck and out front repeatedly. I didn’t know what to do. I was losing it, man. I could see flickering through the windows of neighbors, candles I presumed. This is ridiculous. Maybe it was the Chinese? Maybe they took out the grid? They’re always talking about that on George Noory, perhaps it finally happened? No, probably just the hellacious storm. Back to pacing…

We’d been watching Dateline, which was also annoying. We’ll never know if Cam killed Kaylee, or if it was that security guard who was acting suspiciously. It felt like we were being manipulated by the Dateline team, ’cause they were definitely making it seem like Cam was guilty. It felt like a twist in the tale was right around the corner, but we never got there. And now we’ll probably never know. Bastards!

But as I was pacing, something exciting and invigorating occurred to me: Game of Thrones finale was on at 9, and the power was out! At least I had that bit of good news to cling to. Hopefully, the Half-Shirts are big fans.

It came back on about 75 minutes later, give or take one or two trips to the deck. And, incredibly, the internet worked and the cable worked and everything. Most of our clocks are still flashing, but we’ll get to them in a couple of weeks, I’m sure. So, I watched three episodes of Green Acres on Amazon Prime, uploaded the podcast at 12:01 am, and called it a night.

And now it’s time to go back to work already. How is that possible?! It feels like it was only yesterday when I almost took out that lanky piece of shit on my way home from the office on Friday night. Where did the weekend go? The Chinese probably had something to do with it. And speaking of that, I wouldn’t mind the L14 beef and broccoli lunch special right now, with an eggroll and a Cherry Coke.

I’ll see you guys again on Thursday. Don’t forget about this. Give me a call!

Have a great week, boys and girls.

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In the Monday episode of the podcast, I told you guys about a situation I found myself in with Amazon. You can listen to it here. I’ll briefly recap it now, but you’ll get loads more detail in the show… ’cause I went on and on about it.

Recap: I ordered a Kindle Fire tablet for Toney as a Mother’s Day gift. It’s always $150, but they were having a sale and offering it for $120. The “guaranteed” two-day delivery failed and it arrived a day late, on Friday. I was at work, and when Toney got around to cracking open the box, there was nothing but packing material inside. No tablet… no packing slip… What the?!

She passed on the good news, and I immediately called Amazon. I assumed they’d take care of it without any problem because I’m always hearing about their impeccable customer service. Thankfully I’ve never needed to use it, which is kind of amazing when you think about how long I’ve been doing business with the company. In any case, I was thrown into a baffling quagmire of uncommon accents, low-talking, and people “with fever.”

They needed to do a three-day investigation I was told, to find out what really happened. That kinda ticked me off… She was hitting that really part pretty hard as if what I was telling her was questionable. “I’ll tell you what really happened,” I answered, “Somebody stole it! Either an employee of UPS or someone in an Amazon DC. That’s what really happened!” Grrr…

Here are a couple of pictures of the box I took. As you can see, the Amazon tape on the bottom had been slit open and somebody re-taped it. Also, there’s a sticker on the top that seems to have REP written on it. I don’t know what that means.

But she insisted that an investigation must happen, and she’d personally get back to me on May 14. She did not. I never heard from them. So I called and was thrown straight into the same quagmire. It sounded like millions of people were talking in the background and the person on the line with me had a thick accent that I’d never heard before.

I told her I was promised a call-back and didn’t get one. I’m not sure if she apologized because I couldn’t make out 75% of the words she was speaking. But we quickly got down to business and she said they were very pleased to offer me a full refund. I told her I’d prefer a replacement, but she said that was not possible. So, I asked if I’d be able to re-buy the tablet at the sale price, and she said “no.” That was literally her answer, “no.” Why not?? We do not price-match, she said. “It’s your own price!” I shouted. “From a few days ago!” “No,” she repeated.

I said I appreciate the refund, but I’m not very happy with them refusing to honor the sale price. She got a little exasperated and said something along the lines of “I don’t know why you’re unhappy because as far as we’re concerned the package left our facility and was delivered to your house.” Which ticked me off again. “Yes, the package! Literally the package, with nothing inside!!” I answered. She just sighed and said nothing.

And that’s where we stand. The refund was issued, and the tablet now costs $30 more than the day I ordered it. I won’t re-buy it, because fuck that. But I read some stuff online and found out they don’t always offer a refund in that scenario. So, I don’t know if I should be satisfied or somewhat annoyed. I’m leaning toward the latter. What are your thoughts?

Also, have you ever had anything like this happen to you? How did it work out for you? Any experience with Amazon customer service at all? Are you familiar with the quagmire? What country is that call center located in? It sounded like the backward-talking in Twin Peaks.

And I must again emphasize… I’ve been doing business with Amazon since the late 1990s and hadn’t had to call customer service about anything before. This is, as far as I can remember, the only problem I’ve ever had with them. And it probably wasn’t even their fault. Some UPS employee probably did the plundering, right? They should definitely investigate, starting with the United Parcel Service. What can Brown do for you? Plunder your shit!

Please let me know your thoughts on this important matter.

Also, if you’d like to be a part of the Monday podcast (maybe), please leave a message on our exciting new hotline. Ask a question, leave a comment, make a suggestion. Whatever floats yer boat. Here’s the info:

And speaking o’ the podcast, I’m going to upload the Thursday show for patrons shortly. I know it’s Friday, give me a break… It’ll be available at Patreon within the hour. Thanks for the support, and thanks for listening!

I hope you guys have yourselves a fine weekend.

We have a 6-pack of this stuff chilling in the fridge. It was purchased in Cleveland, and is possibly one of the best beers ever! That was my feeling after the first 6-pack, anyway. It’s unavailable in Pennsylvania, it appears… Good stuff.

I’ll be back on Monday.

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