The Steely Dan Man/University District/Wed April 5/1:42 am: After standing in the hall of an apartment building for a moment, Officer Kane knocked on a door, and a man answered it. The occupant was 50-ish, sort of Irish-looking, with gray hair and a bright red shirt expanded by his big belly. Officer Kane told the big man that he was playing his music too loudly and his neighbors were complaining. The big man took this as an opportunity to point out that he was playing Steely Dan, and that he loves Steely Dan. Officer Kane, apparently not a fan, advised the big man of the city's noise ordinance, which permits officers to confiscate stereo equipment if an offender continues to play loud music after a warning. The big man turned off the music immediately, and Officer Kane returned to his patrol car, satisfied that he had restored order to the apartment building.

Dark Things/Greenwood/Sat April 8/4:45 pm: This afternoon, two people were in the nocturnal animals section of the Woodland Park Zoo (I can't say who these people were, but there they were, standing in the dark, nonetheless). Suddenly something happened, something so terrible I can't reveal it, because, as you know, I'm a decent man -- a man of principles and limits, and this is definitely one line I'm not going to cross. Suffice it to say that the nocturnal creatures, Officer Rogers, and zoo security know what happened at exactly 4:45 pm, in that room full of dark and furry night animals.

The Mustard Men from Casablanca/Downtown/Sat April 8/7 pm: This somewhat murky (or soomerki) report goes something like this: Two Moroccan men with black briefcases were sitting in the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel, when an East Indian man approached them and said there was mustard splattered on the backs of their shirts. A moment later, another East Indian appeared, and again told the Moroccans that they had mustard on the backs of their shirts -- he also showed them where the bathroom was. What happened next is unclear, but it seems that the Moroccans headed for the bathroom while a mysterious third man grabbed their neglected briefcases and, followed by the two East Indians, walked out of the hotel onto the twilight city streets. When the Moroccans returned to their seats, they realized what had just happened and called the police. One has to wonder why the two men didn't simply examine each other's shirts for mustard. It's a complete mystery to me and the cops. "They were dressed so well," one of them tried to explain to Officer Moon. Moon was kind enough to leave the Moroccans with a case number.

The Baddest Motherfucker in Seattle/Downtown/Sun April 9/1 am: Here is an undiluted slice of cop consciousness, by way of Officer Hall: "He stated, 'Fuck the police. I ain't doing shit,' and refused to have his fingerprints taken to establish his identity. He was belligerent and aggressive in his posture and statements. KCJ [King County Jail] refused to admit him, due to his possible ingestion of cocaine and instructed us to take him to HMC [Harborview Medical Center] for an examination. KCJ stated that they would only admit him upon a signed release from HMC staff. We transferred him to HMC. At [HMC] he would not allow staff to draw urine or anything else. He would respond by twisting violently in this restraint, whenever approached by HMC staff. [He then] stated that he was going to find out where [the doctors, nurses, and] officers lived, and what were we going to do then? He was going to 'fix us' and leave the state and supply all of the drug dealers with guns. We returned to KCJ and he said, 'I got all the high-tech weapons. I'm going to take you on, I did seven years for assault 1. You don't know what I got. I got a Tek 9 and AK-47. You po' white trash. I'm the baddest motherfucker in the city of Seattle.'"