Pet Peeves

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Catch and Release

By Mark D. Crantz
By Mark D. Crantz

America’s got talent. Laguna’s got no talent left. So says an Indy article “Turn Over at City Hall.” I take umbrage. Hello, look at me. I’m tapping my head and rubbing my stomach at the same time. Not easy to do. Geez, if you still work for the city, you must feel lower than whale poop on the bottom of the ocean floor. We’re just daring more employees to leave. Thankfully, city workers still here can’t read. Our city is safe for the moment.

I think we took our collective eye off the beach ball. The city has been so busy dealing with the village entrance that employees snuck out the village exit. The village exit is right before the “Welcome to Dana Point” rock on Coast Highway. Well, the landmarks were adjacent until a few weeks ago, when a driver overstayed his Dana Point welcome by smashing the sign to smithereens. Below the faux rock was where they hid the village key. Shhh, tell no one. I’ve had a blast with that key. It opens up everything in Dana Point. I’ve got more swag than you could dream of. I even got fence that I had to fence. Getting rid of this bounty hasn’t been easy. Thankfully, Dana Point reopened both sides of the main drag that run north and south just to accommodate my trucks. Maybe you’ve seen them, “Two Crooks & a Truck.”

I’m not saying if that last paragraph is true until Laguna’s city attorney gets hired elsewhere. Then I’ll sing like a canary because there will be no one left at city hall to hear my confession and prosecute me. That’s why I’ve moved my senior citizen burglary ring to Laguna. Don’t confuse us with second story burglars. We can’t do steps any more. But if you live in a ranch or what real estate people call mid century modern, then be sure to lock your doors from 4 a.m. until 3 p.m., which is the time we knock off for the early bird specials. After that your place is safe until we get up again at 4 a.m. Old crooks can’t sleep much. My gang dubbed “Ring around the Collar” is at their peak performance between these unusual hours. And we won’t be collared because the city’s present catch and release employee program assures me that police third shift now exists as a first shift someplace else. Hot diggity dog. We’ve got loads of stuff. Come and get it. Ask around. You’ll find us.

When you find our hideout, knock three times. The password is “Seagull.” A peephole will slide open. Then spell “Seagull.” Oops. “Sorry pal. Wrong spelling. I think you’re looking for Siegel, first name Ben, alleged dead uncle’s nickname, Bugsy. He was the city’s deputy city manager. He’s left town. Took a bunch of employees with him. Some say to Las Vegas. Others say to San Juan Capistrano.”

“I’m the new Seagull in town. It’s a different spelling. Here’s a hint. We’re birds of a feather and we rob together. Hurry up. I’ve got a lot to unload. You know what, forget spelling it. I’m just glad you’re here. Now look at these wonderful items from faraway Dana Point. Yes. They are tall ships, aren’t they?”

 

Crantz tells the Indy that the “Ring around the Collar” gang wanted the Forest Avenue parklet as a hideout, but it got way too much attention.

 

 

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