Pretty Good vs. Fairly Evil
I’m not going to obsess over the stolen Rambouillet, but it’s still top of mind, and there was a further development yesterday that got me wondering whether doing more or less the right thing more or less most of the time isn’t just for suckers; thieves and sociopaths have the right idea: the meek may inherit the earth, but it’s gonna be stolen away from them by the bold.
And the Rambouillet thief is nothing if not bold.
When I found the beater mountain bike that I conjectured he had ridden up on before ditching it and upgrading to my bike, I Kryptonite locked it to a wooden pallet in the alley. On the bike, I duct-taped a “reward for return of stolen bike” notice thinking that if the thief came back for his beater, he would see it locked, despair of freeing it, read the reward notice, have a change of heart about my bike, and return the Rambouillet in exchange for the reward and having his bike unlocked from the pallet.
Instead—and in broad daylight, because it happened sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon when, ironically, I was out dropping off reward notices at various bike and pawn shops around town—the thief returned and apparently, simply ripped his beater right off the pallet and carried it—(he would have had to, the rear wheel was locked to the frame)—down the alley and back into whatever hole he had emerged from.
So, now I’m out my bike—and a lock—while the thief gets it all.
I’m reading this book right now that I rather like, The Kite Runner, and in it, the protagonist’s father reduces all forms of evil—lying, cheating, rape, etc.—to a species of stealing. I’m not sure I entirely agree, but certainly, taking what isn’t yours is the essence of many bad deeds.
So howcome right now the bad guy’s laughing and I’m moaning like this?
And the Rambouillet thief is nothing if not bold.
When I found the beater mountain bike that I conjectured he had ridden up on before ditching it and upgrading to my bike, I Kryptonite locked it to a wooden pallet in the alley. On the bike, I duct-taped a “reward for return of stolen bike” notice thinking that if the thief came back for his beater, he would see it locked, despair of freeing it, read the reward notice, have a change of heart about my bike, and return the Rambouillet in exchange for the reward and having his bike unlocked from the pallet.
Instead—and in broad daylight, because it happened sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the afternoon when, ironically, I was out dropping off reward notices at various bike and pawn shops around town—the thief returned and apparently, simply ripped his beater right off the pallet and carried it—(he would have had to, the rear wheel was locked to the frame)—down the alley and back into whatever hole he had emerged from.
So, now I’m out my bike—and a lock—while the thief gets it all.
I’m reading this book right now that I rather like, The Kite Runner, and in it, the protagonist’s father reduces all forms of evil—lying, cheating, rape, etc.—to a species of stealing. I’m not sure I entirely agree, but certainly, taking what isn’t yours is the essence of many bad deeds.
So howcome right now the bad guy’s laughing and I’m moaning like this?
posted by Professor Dave at 9:49 AM
2 Comments:
Do you really suppose it’s the same thief? Bold indeed. If so it raises certain concern: will he return for more? If he went into your shed did he not see other bikes there? Will locking the shed keep him from entering it? He / she would seem rather resourceful, no? But I reckon he’s not the same thief. Too soon to return to the scene of the crime. But who knows. Only one thing is certain: too many thieves.
The reason you are moaning is because you didn't attach live electrical wires to it or smear it with pine tar. That would have won the respect of the thief, who is no doubt upset at you for not playing your proper role in the transaction. You are supposed to want to see him in pain or in jail. Anything less and he will only feel contempt for you.
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