Petty Theft Auto

Winter has extended her wife-like frigid vise grip on San Diego.

Believe it or not, it's not always 72 and sunny here. In fact, last night it dipped down to 28 degrees in our neck of the woods. Of course, as I type this, it's sunny…and 72 degrees, but sooner or later, that sun will go back down.

This morning, I left for work only to find frost where my windshield once was. I started my car to "warm up" the engine (I saw it done in a movie once) and reached in the back seat for my rarely-used ice scraper…

"Hey, the back seat of my car looks a little more ransacked than usual…", I thought to myself.

Upon further inspection, it looked like one of those fictional cinematic motel rooms after the bad guys had tore it up "looking for the microfilm" or whatever passed for covert containers of espionage information in the '70s or '80s.

Upon further inspection, it was readily evident that I'd just been a victim of a vehicular break-in.

Now, I was running late for work, so the flood of emotions at that moment were too numerous for me to recount and recap, but I know that the first thing I thought of were my CDs…

Sho' nuff, some of my favorite discs from the last few years were gone, including Little Brother, Ghostface Killah and Lupe Fiasco.

Apparently, we can cross my mother off the list of suspects.

Oddly enough, the only other things that appear to have been taken were a couple of old music magazines that I'd been meaning to throw away, anyway, so I guess I should say "thanks" to whichever felon (or felons) accosted my Acura. I hope they recycle.

On my lunch hour, I had a better chance to look around and inventory anything else that might be missing. As I pulled loosely strewn papers from the seats and floor, I found that some of the old restaurant flyers and Mapquest directions were, well…"wetter" than some others.

Please tell me these people didn't pee in my car.

I actually uttered that aloud. And, just before I was about to utter the R-rated version of the exact same sentiment, the unmistakable stank of stale beer overwhelmed my olfactory system.

So, in addition to breaking-and-entering and petty theft, someone poured beer all over my backseat. And, I know what you're thinking, but believe me…at least 80% of my beer is spilled in the front seat.

And, the best thing about all of this? Apparently, there wasn't any forced entry. Best I can tell, I forgot to lock the door and Cryme Tyme just let themselves into the confines of my four-door smorgasbord.

It's times like these that make me wish there was such a thing as a Black Republican, because I'd flip the switch on the electric chair, myself for this misdemeanor. Unfortunately, as a registered Democrat, I have to sit here in fear, while concurrently hoping we coddle these criminals right past prison and on to probation.

This wouldn't have happened in Al Gore's America.

I'm just sayin'.