Now The Law Is In The Picture

Monday, June 16, 2008

You know what I did? I went and called the flippin' cops, that's what. Well, before I called THE cops I called A cop. My cop. Officer Johnson. Which is, coincidentally a pretty good nickname for your penis, if you have a penis and you haven't given it a nickname yet, that is.

Officer Johnson once cheated off a take-home musical theater history test and I always remind him of that whenever I need heads busted. Stop laughing, I kicked ass on that test. I would have cheated off me too.

What OJ told me was that I could file a police report and one of Salt Lake City's finest would register the serial numbers of my stolen camera gear in a database. Then, any time a local pawn shop checks in a new piece of equipment, they have to verify everything against the database. A long shot, for sure but it was worth a try.

So, right after I left a note in the bathroom pleading with the criminals, I called the cops. I told the she-cop that took my report exactly what I told you yesterday. What I was hoping is that they would send a SWAT team down and follow the smell of Lysol and urinal cakes to my camera. What happened was that she wrote down all my serial numbers and told me "a detective may follow up with you in the next few days."

In other words, I'm shit-out-of-luck. They will never bother looking for my camera because... well... I don't know why not. Because it would be hard to find. Ironically, that's why I called them in the first place.

No matter. I now have a case number. A case number that I then gave to my insurance company. You see, my homeowners' insurance covers personal property loss from my home, my car OR the restroom counter top of my office. It's got a five-hundred dollar deductible but in this case, it'll still be a claim worth making.

Who wants to bet the adjuster calls me back before the police do? If you lose the bet, will you buy me a new camera?

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