Once every year or so? No biggie. Twice in a three days? Grrrrr. Three times in five? And I’m ready to camp out with a shovel handle the better to jump out and brain the tagtard when they go for a fourth.
And we all know they will go for a fourth.
Walking Susan down the front steps to see her off to work this morning we found the garage door spared but the mailbox hit, this time on the front and side, like so:
Nevermind deciphering the whogivesashit meaning of “SDK” on the side I’d freshly painted Friday… what’s up with “CABLE” scrawled across the front of the boxes? With a DirecTV dish plainly visible atop our roof, could this be some sort of guerilla marketing ploy by Time-Warner?
Don’t I wish. In the inconsiderate world of whatever night-crawling opossably thumbed zygote did this perhaps it’s an acronym of some sort. Or maybe the vandal’s such an idiot he thinks it means something it doesn’t… perhaps the sap’s the unwitting victim of a practical-joking uncle who used it in a sentence enough times when the doof was growing up that he bought it, like “I’m so mad I could cable my probation officer!” or “There will come a time when you will cable the day I was born!” or “Hey, let’s go to the pier and cable some fish!” or “Check it: I ordered a No. 5 at Taco Bell and they gave me an extra cable supreme by mistake!” or “Nah, man ‘Cable Train’ is waaaaay better than ‘American Bandstand'” or “Cable to your mother.”
All silliness aside: whatever. Thirty minutes with some nail polish remover and another coat of paint later… and the box is ready to be hit again.
But don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything rash like lay in premeditated wait to cable catch the tagger in the act, but hmmmmm, I may look into the logistical possibility of setting up some sort of Scumbag Cam. But if that doesn’t pan out I’ll just be there to quickly clean up after him until this sorry excuse gets tired of losing this battle and moves on to a property where its residents aren’t so ceaselessly diligent.
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