When I sat down this evening to whip up a little bl*g post, I realized I had nothing. So I turned to the yachtsman and asked what I should write about. His answer?
"Seagull wars, and my jihad, and why I’m on the righteous path."
But of course.
The yachtsman has opened a new front in the dumpster wars: YouTube. But I refuse to post a link to his seven-minute video of seagulls recorded at 5:30 in the morning, because he is now targeting not only the crappy Brazilian restaurant in our lobby, but also the delicious Italian restaurant in our basement, and I want to be able to continue to eat at the latter without finding saliva in my gnocchi.
And really, the yachtsman's tongue is mightier than the sword, the pen, and the online video combined, so I offer you a few of his recent war-room comments:
"What do you think of me setting up a 24/7 surveillance for that back alley? I’m only half being not serious."
"Did you hear the garbage trucks at 3:15 this morning? 3:15. I’m going to booby trap the whole area down there. It’s going to be like Da Nang. I’m going to light up the sky."
YACHTSMAN: Victory is mine.
ME: It is?
YACHTSMAN: Victory is in the eye of the beholder.