A #poogate saga update.

We have been notified of our trial date and, while the nerves are mounting, I'm certainly looking forward to getting justice for my “shitty” client.

I was a mess when I was notified of our transgressions. I was out for blood. How could my good, kind neighbors in our perfect little “community” not understand that “shit” happens and human beings make mistakes? (Let's see how many poo puns I can work into this post.)

Be that as it may, I've calmed down a smidge, and will probably let my client stay home and lick his butt while I go alone to defend his honor.

I'm glad to see so many international folks here on write.as. How ashamed I am to share this story, the pinnacle of first world problems, with those of you who are perhaps suffering more than we could ever imagine.

While you are out marching and dying in the streets for just a bit of freedom or maybe the right not to be raped or put in jail or executed without a trial, we sit here fat, happy, safe, and bored. Despite all our blessings, riches, and leisure time we are indignant.

While you are out there wondering if the dirty water you are about to give your dehydrated child will kill him, or if you will be subject to torture for speaking out against a repressive government we are here, sourly confronting and threatening each other for playing with dogs “on the grass”. Without signs and without locks, apparently I was the last one to realize we were in a prohibited area. I should have known it was forbidden to chase each other around in plant matter the Almighty Lord himself put on his green Earth for us to enjoy.

Read the Manual, they say. It's not my job to explain this to you, they think. No, of course not. For the Manual is there to prevent the kinds of conversations they're utterly incapable of having.

We may have abolished actual torture, but here we are, desperately imagining creative new ways to torture, humiliate, and punish each other. These new ways are getting more creative all the time, for we've run out of even sorta, kinda bad problems to solve.

No, we fat, oblivious humans in the first world's HOAs have run out of real wars to fight. Real movements to defend. Real communities of others to join to achieve a higher purpose and promote human dignity.

Our dignity is so intact that we must come up with new ways to tear it down and, I must say, the behavior surrounding the PooGate saga is one of the best pieces of work I've ever seen. You should be proud of yourselves.

My human dignity on the day of the trial will be at an all time low. What better way to challenge a successful person's adulthood, humanhood, value for their time, and love of their “community” than to put their name on a docket, in plain public view, where they will be obliged to answer for the crime of poo, in person, before a “committee”.

You have won.

---

Follow the #poogate struggle

Oh my god, y'all, stuff done got dialed up a notch. I was half-joking, kinda sorta, when I wrote my last post.

It was a humor piece. An absurdist take on life in the sterile, vanilla suburbs.

Do I really have time to attend an “appeal” about my dogs shit?

(Again, I'm laughing hysterically writing this.)

I must admit I didn't read the letter thoroughly. Why would anyone waste eyeball space on such ridiculousness? But I just read it over and, lemme tell you, the kid gloves are 'bout to come off.

Ahem, I quote:

Attached is the documentation with the results of the pet waste sample that we collected. You may contest the fine by delivering written notice to the Association within 14 days after receipt of this notice. Upon your request, the matter will be turned over to the Hearing Committee who will schedule a Hearing. You will be notified of the time, date and place where you may appear at the hearing to plead your case before the committee.

First of all, there's no attachment. I can't even see the evidence against my client. So I'll have to waste time asking Management to send me this evidence. Jeez, I thought we were running a proper Shit Court here, people.

Second of all...

Bwahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

“Plead my case?”

“The Committee?”

Are “The Committee” composed of actual human beings whose calling in life is to hear cases relating to dog shit? Am I dreaming right now? Someone jump through the screen and pinch me.

Oh, it...is...on. The Committee better buckle up cause I'm bringin' some horsepower to this “Hearing”.

Not only am I going to dress up a fucking dog in a fucking suit, I'm bringing expert witnesses.

If anyone out there in the write.as community is a geneticist or knows one and wants to help me troll an HOA please reach out on Twitter to @writeas__. (Matt, dude, sorry I'm bringing you into this mess.)

Now I need to figure out the rules of the game. Is it preponderance of evidence or beyond a reasonable doubt? I assume, since it's a civil matter we're going with preponderance.

But you never know with these guys. We could be talking hard time for my schweet wittle angel face.

I will ask them to submit their evidence to council before the trial begins, whereupon I will formulate my defense.

I will ask for a representative of the (snicker) Poo Prints program – a scientist, preferably – to attend “The Hearing” via Skype so I can cross-examine.

No dogs are allowed ever, anywhere on precious HOA property. But, in my letter “submitted within 14 days” I will ask for an exception. Surely the accused has a right to appear at his own trial!

I will ask them to produce witnesses. Did anyone actually observe my client shitting? Were you intoxicated on this evening? Please, describe for “The Committee” the circumstances under which you observed my client shitting.

This is going to be so much more fun than I ever imagined!

Remember kids: idle minds do the Devil's work. I have no client work right now and I'm here trying to entertain myself until I can get the fuck out of this place.

I'm ready for your commands, oh Dark Lord.

#poogate

I'm a little sensitive lately. Been lashing out at people I love an stuff and I can't quite put my finger on why. Luckily, I have the luxury of being alone with my thoughts and thinking about life, which I hear is becoming very hard to do with all these “important” notifications we have to respond to RIGHT NOW and all the important people we have to entertain on Facebook and the like.

Man, I'm at a loss. I'm at a loss with what the hell has happened to people. Every time I bring something up that seems downright absurd to me I'm either ignored or called crazy. Am I overthinking this? Does thinking about something logically truly have its limits? Like, at some point do we reach diminishing returns by dissecting something and turning it on it's head a thousand times? Do we just give up, keep our mouths shut and join the crowd in saying: yeah, man that's the way the world is.?

I guess it is me. I guess I never lost my rebellious spirit. I'm a grown-ass woman but I still question life as if I'm in high school. The sad part is: I know everyone else around me is thinking the same...damn...thing. It takes a lot of courage to speak up. But that's always been the case, right?

For the 17 of you that read this blog, welcome back. I truly appreciate you. I know I've been nebulously sharing family drama lately and when I have the strength I'll go into it in great detail. I'm afraid the post I'll have to write to explain it will be a mini-novel, so I'm gearing up for the day when I'll sit my ass in a chair, not move for a few hours, and let my little fingers run like hell.

But, for now, let's get into reason 487,398 why I think people have lost their damn minds.

Welcome Back, Comrade

A bit of back story. Yes, I've been traveling like a gypsy for well over a decade, but I've always had sort of a “home base”. It's a rental property when I'm not here, but when it's vacant it's somewhere to take a load off, regroup, feel “normal”...you get the idea.

It's a condo we bought back in 2006. Back when we were a we and I wasn't yet just a me.

Yes, it had an HOA. But that's just how it is in good ol' Florida. Let me put it this way: communities without an HOA command a premium. And, if you've ever had the misfortune of living in a “deed restricted community”, you know exactly why people don't mind paying more to buy their freedom.

We bought it, whatever. But, back then I remember bragging to friends in stricter communities how laid back they are here. I was like, yeah, it's great! People are super chill and generally mind their own business. Sucks for you!

Now, I haven't been here in years. Just moved back in to make some repairs, and I'm sad to report that's not the case anymore. My, my, how time changes a people.

I could write an actual novel about what's happened with our Glorious Leaders since I got back here three months ago, but today, we'll just focus on the most entertaining thing.

Same Shit, Different Day

So, I get a dog. I know...my days of travel and adventure are as good as over. I bring him home. I'm stressed AF. He's absolutely stressed AF, having been torn out of one home and circle of trust and sent off with a stranger. I'm trying to get him settled, deal with my own shit, renovate some crap in the house, and so forth. Not four days into bringing him home I get an email from our “Community Manager”. (How fucking sad we need someone to “manage” communities of autonomous, supposedly thinking adult human beings, but this is the world we want.)

I would pull up the actual letter but I'm lazy so I'll paraphrase:

Good afternoon Miss [Redacted],

It has come to our attention that you are in possession of a certain blonde canine. As you very well know, in our Community, all dogs must be registered with the office. During this registration process you will be asked to provide vaccination records and proof of neutering (for male dogs).

Sounds like our modern world, right? If you have balls you're not welcome here.

But, in all seriousness, their request didn't seem that unreasonable. Of course I'll provide vaccination records and whatever nonsense y'all need. I can completely understand that you don't want anyone running around with rabies. Well, no dogs anyway.

Now, whenever something seems reasonable coming from the lips of an HOA, my friends, you haven't been reading long enough.

You are also required to register your dog with our Poo Prints program to ensure a healthy and sanitary environment for all.

I'm sorry...Poo what?

I chuckle a little cause I like the word “poo”. What the hell are they talking about?

Turns out, these lunatics would like to DNA test my dog's shit. If you're asking “why?” right now, congratulations...you are a sane person. But, don't worry. I speak lunatic, so I'll translate.

They would like to DNA test my dog's shit so that, just in case I don't pick up his shit, they can slap me with a big, fat fine. Again, this makes sense on the surface. People are dicks who don't clean up after their dogs. Nobody wants to step in dog dookie while they're walking through the grass, right? Well, suuuurrrree. I guess. I would at least throw ya a bone if I ever actually saw anyone in the grass. I don't. But, what about kids playing?! you ask. Nope. Never see any of those, either. I know there are kids here, but they certainly aren't outside playing...that would just be silly.

Again, on the face of it, this doesn't seem like an outlandish idea. Fine those who don't clean up after their dogs. Full stop. But, ahhhhh, that's where most people would stop using their little God-given bean and call it a day.

I think about it further.

So, you're telling me, you are going to make me do something as ridiculous as DNA test my dogs shit in the first place...fine. But what happens next? Let's explore, shall we? When you find my dog's shit you are going to have to 1. Take a photo of it. (I am not making this up!) 2. Bag up the offender's specimen. 3. Send said specimen off to a lab. A lab containing REAL SCIENTISTS, I presume. 4. Wait to get the results back. 5. When the results come back, take the time to write me a letter, which gives me the option to “appeal”...

Sorry, I'm literally laughing out loud writing this.

5. Then, I can waste more of management's time, and mine, attending the appeal, seeing the “evidence”, which is a photo...of...my...dog's...shit. Read the DNA report. Nod pensively and scratch my chin while taking it all in...

“Yes, yes gentlemen. This does in fact appear to be my dog's shit. I cannot deny such solid detective work.”

I would be offended if this weren't so fucking hilarious. This is solid gold HOA living right here.

So, after aaaaallll this time and effort, why don't they just clean up the shit, on-site, in the grass, and call it a day? Wouldn't that be cheaper for everyone? If you just asked this question, dear reader, you are still a sane human being.

I heard the reason we don't just have maintenance clean up the shit and let everyone get on with their precious lives is because The Board voted it down. Nobody wants to pay for it! they say.

No, no they don't. Instead, these idiots wants to make everyone around them go through this humiliating and downright ludicrous process, taking up valuable sciencing time so some poor schmuck who would rather be curing cancer can DNA. TEST. MY. DOG'S. SHIT!

Really?! Fucking really?

This is the world we want to live in? Seriously, who hurt you when you were a child? Who didn't educate you in school about economics and how opportunity cost works?

I have no reason to complain, so I'll stop. After all, I've never voted in one of these fancy Board Meetings.

But, just cause I can't complain doesn't mean I can't have a little fun...

Have Mercy, Your Honor

I was mad when I first got the letter. We've been busted. Of course I cannot recall a single time when I didn't pick up the detestable feces, except that one time when he had the runs. I bent down to bag it up and it “ran” right out of the bag. Nothing to pick up. Nothing to see here. The rain will wash it clean within hours, fuck off and good night. (It was late.)

Jesus, people! How could you be so petty? But two can play this game. If you take my dog's shit so seriously, so will I.

So I will go to this appeal! I will bring the accused! I will prostrate myself before judge and jury. I will beg for their forgiveness.

(If I pluck a few nosehairs I might even be able to force a tear.)

But I'm not done yet...

I will wear a pantsuit. My client will wear a jacket and tie. I will get him tired first at the dog park so he looks extra sorry.

If this is what it takes to make these people feel important and powerful for once in their lives, I'm willing to do it.

At the end of the day, I just want to get out of this $180 fine.

Yep, you heard that right. ONE-HUNDRED-AND-EIGHTY dollars. For shit.

That's a lot of money for something critters have been doing out in grass for hundreds of millions of years. But, fuck it, I'm bored. You can't find entertainment like this on TV, folks.

Maybe a little humor will soften their hearts. I'll report back on the verdict when this is all over.

#poogate #justice #whatwouldjesuspoo?