Police Blotto.

I subscribe to the police report for my 'hood that they send out every week, partially because I want to know what I'm dealing with out there and mainly because I'm a Nosy Parker (not to be confused with Parker Posey, which is allegedly her real name, which I have a hard time believing). Like I found out that a week ago around the corner, some guy woke up in the morning to a homeless man standing in his bedroom, wearing his bathrobe. At a shady hotel/halfway house type place, someone got their X-Box stolen, but they didn't report it until three days later... to the Airport Police. One time, there was a graphic description of transvestite prostitutes "flagging down passing motorists and yelling massage."

But the incidents that get me are the ones that are invariably there every week: car window gets smashed, and something ridiculously valuable that was obviously clearly visible through said smashed window gets stolen. Really, people? You're surprised when you leave your laptop in your Mercedes and it gets popped? Oh, you left your iPod in the car and now it's no longer there? Your solid gold infant was left in your unattended and unlocked car and now you're upset that it's gone? COME ON.

I'm not into blaming the victim and not every break in results in a haul like a laptop (or anything at all), but when I park my piece of junk car, I put the trusty Club into place and leave the empty glove box open to show that there's nothing in there anyone wants. Unless they want a manual for a 1992 Honda, a map of PA and NJ state parks and a cassette tape of The Best of MTV's 120 Minutes (Part 2). Then they can have at it.