Kosovo: The Musical

How does a satirical Beach Boys song parody, made by a Seattle DJ in 1999, get turned into music video by bored Norwegian soldiers stationed in Kosovo in 2002, only to somehow become an international incident in the summer of 2005, and then only make it to my notice in the summer of 2009?

I don't know. Video's funny, though.

Watch it here.

Then get the full story below.

NY Times, August 21, 2005
Video of D.J.'s Satirical Song Provokes Offense in Kosovo
By NICHOLAS WOOD

PRISTINA, Kosovo - Most of the satirical songs written at the radio station
KZOK in Seattle amuse listeners for a brief life, then fade from the air.
But one number from 1999 about the war in the Serbian province of Kosovo
has ignited a diplomatic dispute years later and halfway around the world.

The song, written by the D.J. Bob Rivers and set to the melody of the Beach
Boys hit "Kokomo," ridiculed what he considered the nonchalant way the
United States assumed the role of the world's policeman when it led an air
war over Kosovo, a place most Americans knew little about.

The trouble started, Mr. Rivers said, when a group of Norwegian soldiers on
peacekeeping duty in Kosovo came upon the song in 2002 and decided to make
a rock video of it.

The two-and-half-minute video shows four soldiers miming to the music -
dancing on watchtowers and armored trucks, wearing bulletproof vests over
their bare chests, performing routines in their military compound and even
splashing mineral water on one another.

Over time, the tape (which has a link on Mr. Rivers's Web site,
www.bobrivers.com) made its way to the Internet and caught the attention of
BK TV, the Serbian television station. When the station broadcast the
video, it incited an uproar, and not only because of the dancing and
lightly clad soldiers. What was most provocative were the song's lyrics.
Verses such as "Protecting human rights, airstrikes and firefights/We'll be
dropping our bombs, wherever Serbian bad guys hide," caused deep offense.

The video prompted criticism among Serb leaders of the NATO-led
peacekeeping mission in Kosovo, a province that officially remains part of
Serbia, but has been administered by the United Nations and patrolled by
NATO since the two-and-a-half-month bombing campaign in 1999.

A senior adviser to Serbia's prime minister, Vojislav Kostunica, said the
video suggested that the NATO mission, which was meant to be evenhanded
between the province's majority Albanian population and its minority Serb
community, was biased.

"Such things only help the Serbian side to prove that there is no security
in Kosovo, no respect for human rights and no multiethnicity," Agence
France-Presse quoted the adviser, Slobodan Samardzic, as saying.

"The president was very shocked to learn about this," said Vuk Jeremic, the
senior foreign policy adviser to President Boris Tadic of Serbia. Mr. Tadic
was especially upset because the soldiers came from Norway, a country with
a strong record for peace initiatives and conflict resolution, Mr. Jeremic
said in an interview.

The video showed that four years after the collapse of Slobodan Milosevic's
autocratic government in Serbia, the nation's image abroad is still
sullied. "This is what boys from Norway think about Serbs," he said.

Norway's ambassador to Serbia and Montenegro, Hans Ola Urstad, promptly
issued an apology calling the video "highly regrettable" and promised an
investigation. He expressed the hope that the video would not do "serious
harm to the longstanding and deep friendship between Serbia and Montenegro
and Norway."

The original intent of the song - to question American involvement in
Kosovo - had clearly been missed. "It was meant to be very lighthearted,
and was aimed at our own government," Mr. Rivers said in a telephone
interview, but instead it was taken as propaganda.

He said that for several years he had received e-mail messages from Serbs
complaining about the song.

Zoran Stanojevic, a journalist who writes a column about the Internet in
the Serbian news magazine Vreme, understood that the song was not the work
of Norwegian soldiers. If they were that good at satire they would be
"doing stand-up on the radio," not serving in the army, he said.

"If nobody tells you it is a satire, it can sound a bit harsh," he said in
a telephone interview. He blamed cultural differences for the
misinterpretation. "For example, the ironic use of a love ballad, they
didn't understand the idea." Most Serbs still do not know the song's
origin, he said.

The Norwegians' video is not the only case of cultural insensitivity by
NATO troops in Kosovo. In July, Express, a Kosovo Albanian newspaper,
republished an interview by an American soldier with his hometown
newspaper. In it the soldier, Sgt. Robbie Nelson, from the 635th Armor unit
of the Kansas National Guard, compared local farming methods to
turn-of-19th-century America. The article caused some amusement and some anger.

Sergeant Nelson said he had no idea that his article would be reprinted in
Kosovo. "I didn't have any intention of causing anybody offense," he said.
"I was just telling my local paper what's different about Kosovo."

A spokesman for the Norwegian Ministry of Defense said this month that
there would be no proceedings against the six soldiers responsible for the
video because they had all left the army.

Mr. Rivers said he believed the Norwegian soldiers were to blame for taking
his song out of context. But he was not sure if the video merited an
international dispute, or if the Norwegians should have apologized for what
was, after all, his song.

"I don't know enough about the world to know who should apologize to who,"
he said.

Up In Smoke

Okay, so I'm on day three of "bye-bye stogies".

As some of you may know, I'm both a proud cigar smoker and unemployed. These two things do NOT go well together. It is very difficult to be both.

And I knew this once the unemployment thing happened, and knew a time was coming with the cigar thing was going to become unrealistic. It took a surprisingly long time. Having friends that would surprise me out of nowhere - in person or via FedEx - with cigar gifts was both unexpected and ridiculously awesome. Between that happening and money not being as huge of an issue at the start, I was able to mostly continue my cigar lifestyle, with occasional, short gaps. Sometimes these gaps would have no cigars in them, or would be filled, instead, with smaller, less expensive cigars (note that I didn't say "cheap cigars". Once you've switched to the good stuff there's no going back to the liquor store brands). Sometimes not. But I finally hit the wall a few days ago and ran out. Though while I was over at a friend's house just after that, he passed me a couple of great ones (my brand, and even larger than my usual size). So I spread those over the next two days, using each of them at my perfect smoking time of the day - that being around 4:00am, for reasons I'm about to get into. So Thursday night/Friday morning was the last one, and I said, "that's that", and went off to bed.

Haven't had one since, but let me just advise you, in case you didn't know - while they're not near as bad as cigarettes (as I know from experience), there is an addiction factor with cigars. And that means withdrawals. That, in and of itself, is (almost) enough to make one realize that something good for you probably doesn't need to whisper its name in your ear while you're trying to watch TV. I'm used to those withdrawal feelings after years of off-and-on cigar smoking, so I know from experience that it takes me around 48-72 hours to get past the crankiness - which, again, is nothing like the Marlboro crankiness. The tougher part is the lifestyle adjustment change, but I find that, often, change is good, and can lead to a series of other positive changes. Change, like fine tobacco products, can be addictive.

And my smoking lifestyle has become more complicated, anyway. Here's the thing - I'm a patio guy. I'll be out here when the weather's bad, and don't mind bundling up as long as it's not so cold that my laptop is freezing up. But what I wait for all year is that glorious summer season, when I can come out here, light up a smoke, and do my writing, my reading, or just my heavy (or light) thinking, surrounded by the toasty warm air that I dream off all winter long when I'm whining about the chill. If it's daytime and hot out, I'm okay with that. But, better yet, if it's late at night, and the temp is up in the high 60s or low 70s? THAT is my happy place.

Summertime does have its double-edged sword metaphor, though. Unfortunately, it seems I don't live in this complex all by myself.

Last year is when the upstairs guy problem started. I've lived here for over five years now. But until this guy moved in? I'd never given my smoking a second thought, as far as how it would affect anyone above me. I guess I'd just been lucky enough to have a neighbor up there who, like me, just didn't care to open his windows...ever. My luck changed with the new guy last summer. I didn't even realize there was a problem at first. But soon I started noticing the sound of windows shutting up there after I'd lit up. Soon after, those window closings started becoming window slammings. Okay, it was starting to sink in. My thought on the matter was that well, I felt bad about it, but there was nothing stopping him from closing his windows and using the A/C for the thirty to sixty minutes it took me to finish a cigar. So, problem solved? Not really. One day I started hearing a noise on the balcony above me, and couldn't quite figure out what it was. I quickly did. He, or his girlfriend (who I actually think was the one who was offended and all window-slammy), opened the sliding glass door up there, loudly dragged two rotating fans out onto the patio, pointed them outward, and turned both on to attempt to blow my rising smoke away.

Experts in the "subtle" business classify that as a "no, that's not really subtle at all" hint.

So it irked me for a couple of days, because I was clinging indignantly to my "I was here first" sense of entitlement. I griped to some friends, who all universally gave me the "screw him!" back-up on that. But really, come on - in what universe is the guy puffing cigar smoke all over the place, smoke that's going into other people's homes and invading their space, considered to be the victim? Yes, I felt I had a right to enjoy smoking on my patio. But I realized he had every right to be able to open his window without the clearly delicious fragrance of fine Dominican tobacco (what is WRONG with these people and their nasal retardation?) wafting in.

So I worked within the system, trying to be a good neighbor. Feeling like a stalker, I would first go outside - perhaps using getting my mail as an excuse - and take a look up at his window and see if it was open. If not, I felt okay to smoke up. If so, I was okay with that. I could put in my earbuds, turn on my iPod, and head to either end of my building, go around the corner, and enjoy some shade and some away-from-keyboard thinking over whatever I was writing at the time.

As an ironic and fun twist to this, check this out: so a while after this started, with me still feeling kind of resentful at that guy and his woman messing with my life choices, I was outside writing away. I don't think I was even smoking at the time. I heard this guy open his door and start coming down the stairs. Then he stopped, went back up, and came back down the stairs after going back into his apartment. I was doing my usual and avoiding eye contact when I saw him start coming toward my patio. I looked up, and he was standing there with, of all things, a couple of cigars in his hand. Friendly as you please, he told me that a friend of his had given him those some time ago, and he wasn't going to smoke them, so he thought I might enjoy them. And just like that, all my grrr-that-guy resentment went away. It's amazing what one unexpected act of kindness can do to defuse a situation. And I like to think that maybe that was his way of saying he'd noticed my not smoking when his windows were open, and appreciated it. Maybe.

Anyway, that was last summer. Cut to THIS summer's problems.

So after losing my job, I figured, well, at least I'd have some good patio/writing/smoking time. And that was working swell for a while. Then, in classic good-news-bad-news tradition, the weather started getting better. I should also mention that I noticed that my upstairs neighbor was suddenly home ALL THE TIME. I know this mainly because of his vintage Prelude that's parked right in sight of my patio. He would just never leave. For a while I thought he was some kind of work-from-home guy (I do know that he's a musician, so maybe he made a living at that somehow?), but soon realized he was probably unemployed like me. Which was too bad. For him AND for me.

See, as soon as the weather started improving, his windows started opening again. Which led me to my stalker thing again of always having to go outside and see if they were open or closed. And they were open a lot. So I started doing my thing again of going to my alternate spots elsewhere in the complex. But suddenly, that had its own problems. Now he wasn't the ONLY one opening his window. At the evening spot I prefer - at the front of my building, under some trees, with the complex driveway between me and the next building over - I picked up some new neighbors, too. I didn't even think about this until one night while I was out there, with a podcast playing in my earbuds, and I saw some guy over there come walking out his front door and stand there. I kind of caught him out of the corner of my eye, and didn't want to look right at him, but he seemed to be looking right at me - you know, that kind of thing where if a guy gets cut off in traffic, he feels the need to speed up and look at the person that cut him off, just so...well, so the other guy knows he's been looked at, I guess? Soon he went back inside, and I happened to pause my podcast, just in time to hear a window slamming. Oops. Okay, I'd have to watch out for his window as well.

Soon I found that the window on other the other side of the building from him was a problem, too. The miraculously mild summer weather we started out with this year seemed to be inspiring all kinds of folks to enjoy the breeze. I diverted over to my other alternative, which is the back of my building. This is a little grassy spot, also under a couple of trees, at the entrance to a couple of apartments. It's also right next to the low brick wall that people climb over to get to the parking lot of the strip-mall next door, either to get to their cars (some prefer to park there) or, more often, to walk to the liquor store for a beverage. I'm cool with using this spot during the day, but prefer not to at night. Why? Because it's a parking lot of a liquor store. Really, would you want to be sitting out there next to that in the middle of the night? It's a lot that's also a favorite stopping point for impressively hallucinatory homeless folks.

Now the windows of the apartments back there didn't seem to ever open. That was good. However, if ever I was out there when this one woman, and her son, came home? She would pause and give me what clearly a very dirty look. O...kay. Since there was no window problem, I didn't really see the issue. But a couple of those looks prompted me to maybe find another spot. One night, around 1:30am, I went all the way around to the other side of the complex, next to an iron gate that our garbage men use to exit with their truck each Monday morning. From there you can see the back of the strip mall, which, at that particular spot, is the back of the corner bar (yes, a liquor store AND a bar). That was about the only other place I could find with no open windows that night, so I made use of it, telling myself to keep an eye out for shenanigans on the other side of the gate (there's the occasional fight or...other alley stuff behind the bar). After a few minutes, though, I spotted a large guy in shorts and a tee shirt come ambling quickly from behind one of the apartment buildings, seeming to be heading for the nearby dumpster. I relaxed. No big deal. Probably just one of my neighbors, needing to throw out some forgotten trash. He disappeared behind the dumpster. Then I heard him in the bushes behind me and right near me - violently puking his guts out.

Okay. Gave up on THAT spot.

Recently, I was down to the brick wall spot again, and it was evening, maybe 10:00 or 10:30pm. I saw the evil-eye lady come home, and felt another evil-eye. She went into her place. I had some music playing in my ears, but caught a shadow about a minute or so later, and then saw her in my peripheral vision as she came back out. I paused the music and pulled out my earbud, turning to address her, as she was just standing there.

"Is there some reason you come out here to smoke?" she asked me, bluntly.

Uh...well, it was a question I could answer, though I was a little lost on the reason for it, so I did - I explained to her about open windows in the complex, and me not wanting to bother anyone with the smoke, and me not being able to use my patio until very late at night to smoke on. I asked her, honestly and quite politely, if that was a problem. I couldn't, at the time, see why. She went on to explain that all kind of people are hanging around out there in that corner, and there are drug dealers doing business there, and she didn't want any of that around her son. She also stated she guessed it was okay if I was just smoking cigars. That's when we got down to it - she had assumed I was smoking something ELSE, which is why I was back there (near all the drug dealers) doing it secretly. I HOPE that I properly convinced her that I'm NOT getting high behind our building like a high schooler, and that I'm her middle-aged neighbor that she's seen, plenty of times, cigar smoking on his patio as she's walked by. But I can't quite be sure. She's kind of hard to read, as she's one of those people that just kind of looks pissed off all the time.

But really, my main problem all comes down to this - if not for my upstairs neighbor and his open windows, I would be able to do as I had all winter, and come outside with my trusty laptop, whatever time of day I pleased, light up an Upmann and get creative. But things got even worse this summer with him. As the weather stayed kind, only reaching highs in the 80s, or sometimes lower, he would leave those windows open twenty-four hours a day. This kind of confirmed my belief in his unemployment. I figure he really can't afford to use his A/C. I sympathize (though, really, I rarely used mine when I did have plenty of extra dough laying around). But where does that leave Mr. Downstairs (me) when it comes to EVER being able to smoke and write at the same time again, at least before winter comes back around?

Aside from the occasional lucky breaks when I've seen him get in his car and head to the gym (the shorts, sleeveless tee shirt and the towel around his neck when he goes leads me to that conclusion), allowing me to grab a smoke in the later afternoon, my patio smoking time had gotten cut down to right around 4:00am. This is what I figured out to be about the time that if his windows happen to still be open, he's probably going to sleep through the smell while I'm out here. So I've used this as my final writing shift of the day (late-night lifestyle guy that I've become), but it's always, still, with a little bit of worry. Always at the back of my mind is the anticipation of hearing that window slam up there, or the fans being dragged back out, either of which are trumpets sounding out the announcement that I'm a BAD NEIGHBOR! And you know, I really don't WANT to be a bad neighbor. Hopefully, all this effort I go through (that no one really knows about...) shows that I want to be fair and come to an arrangement that works for everyone.

Well, problem solved. I finally hit the point, as I said, where I could no longer justify spending cigar money, even at the awesome online rate I would get. I have just now (almost exactly) hit the 72-hour mark, so the addiction blackboard is wiped clean again. The next step now becomes re-arranging my creative schedule and getting it used to writing and being on the patio again without a smoldering cigar. It can certainly be done. It's all just a matter of reconditioning. Considering that it's 5:20am and it's right about 70 degrees out here right now? I'd call that incentive enough.

However...

Cut to last night. I came out here to work on a writing project. I wasn't necessarily in the greatest mood, either. But I made myself come out anyway, reminding myself that the important thing is actually sitting in front of the computer with fingers on keys, even if the work's not really flowing. So out here I sat, with the weather quite nice. Yesterday, after all, was quite a scorcher, as anyone living in Sacramento can attest to. As I stared at my monitor, doing battle with a disagreeable paragraph, suddenly, I heard a loud noise behind me. It shocked me because it's one I hadn't heard in quite some time. For a year, in fact.

Last night, just at the time when I finally stop the cigars, the guy upstairs decides it's time to finally turn on his air conditioner.

I could have decked the son of a bitch. But I'm sure that was just the addiction me talking.

So the weekend I end up quiting, after a couple of months of fighting with the air needs of my whole complex, changing my hours, getting the stink-eye, being accused selling dime bags to high school kids out behind the building, AND getting vomited at...the weather finally changes. As of right now, the neighbor upstairs still has the A/C running (apparently he now just lets it run all night), and a quick check seems to indicate that there is not one open window anywhere else in the complex around me.

Irony SUCKS.

I just wanted to point that out.

WARNING: Vital survival information - please read

In these times of concern about terrorism, pandemics, climate change, etc., it's easy to overlook more common and, potentially, more deadly risks to ourselves and our communities.

Please click on the attached image and familiarize yourself with these important tips. Experts suggest printing this guide and posting it on your refrigerator so that your children can learn from it as well. As much as we don't like to think of such things, we may not find ourselves home when our kids come into contact with such dangers, and a prepared child is a healthy child.

Please share this information with others, and let's all be sure to look out not only for ourselves, but for others. We're all in this together. Thank you.

Please note: I have checked this through Snopes.com, and found this guide has been verified as both genuine and accurate. Also seen on ABC's "Good Morning America". And on CNN. And a friend of a cousin of a co-worker of mine claims to have had to make use of this, so I assume it must be completely true.

If you forward this to at least ten people, God will bless you, and your true love will find you within three days. If you read this and do not, all the curses of Egypt will descend upon you, and your pets will combust instantly before your eyes. God bless!

Patio Update: More Sex, More Cops, and a Dog.

Been a while since an update, huh? I figured another visit by the Sacramento Sheriff's Department justified a CGWI update.

When we last left off with the neighbor drama, the cops had shown up, at her request, and requested the asshat boyfriend leave. I'd closed that update out wondering how many days it would be before the Asshat was back.

Well, that's a little open to conjecture. There was a guy, about three days later. I could hear that through the open window. Whether it was the same guy, I couldn't be sure, but I suspected this was someone new. I got this from the argument I was forced to hear. I couldn't hear all of it (I was, frankly, trying hard to ignore it and get back to writing), but the accusatory, angry words I heard from him were, "After all I've done for you, and then I try to take our relationship to the next level, and you--" I lost it after that. Just heard her crying and yelling stuff back. So from that, I gathered that this was a new guy, a male friend who'd been waiting for his opportunity to make his move, and now had a chance since Asshat was out of the picture. Three days is a fair expectation for a woman to get over a relationship, don't you think? And now it appeared he'd been up there trying to make that move, and she wasn't having it, and he was pissed off about it, certain that whatever it was he'd done for her was an investment that was going to get him some if he waited long enough. Nice. She can really pick 'em.

I think it was a couple nights after that I caught a reflection in my laptop screen while it was powering up - her and a guy walking toward her building. Just a quick flash, but it did make me wonder if this was the Asshat or someone new (maybe the man friend who'd been feeling ripped off by the lack of quid pro bone). Frankly, it's really hard to tell these guys apart. They're all the same. Fairly short, but with plenty of time spent in the gym to compensate. Ball cap tilted sideways. Pants hanging down over their boxers. I couldn't be sure. But it was about a half hour later when the sex chorus began again. At least the windows were closed this time. But that wasn't enough to drown out either her or the overly loud spanking sounds and accompanying screams.

The next night, around 3:00 am, I carefully opened my patio door and listened. Silence. No porn chorus. I sighed in relief. I went back inside, finished up something I was working on real quick, punched a cigar, grabbed my laptop, and came back out. As I rolled out through the door, I heard the chorus sounding, closed my eyes, and shook my head. Part of me wasn't going to be bullied out of my nightly ritual and intended to stay, but that idea lasted about a minute. Every window and the glass door seemed to be open up there, and it didn't just sound like they were right in the next room, but right on the patio with me. I couldn't take it. I went back inside, checked the clock, and decided to try again in maybe thirty minutes. Once more, I cautiously listened first after cracking the door. The concert seemed to be over, and it didn't sound like there was an encore coming. Had it still been going on, I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or to give the guy a thumbs-up of congratulations next time I saw him. The complex quiet again, I cleared my head and got down to writing.

Since then, things have been workable. No free x-rated radio, no fights, nothing. I've counted myself fortunate. All I've heard, mostly during the day, has been the incessant barking of her little dog, who apparently is locked in there by himself all day. It occurred to me that except for a couple of times after I first saw her in the complex, I haven't ever seen her walk him, day or night. I know enough dog people to know how much that would piss them off, yappy small dog or no. A dog needs fresh air, needs some exercise, and also needs to NOT crap and whiz all over the apartment. This got me wondering, again - aren't pets NOT allowed in my complex? But I figured I must have been remembering wrong, because surely something would have been said to her by now, especially knowing MY apartment manager.

Today, after doing some running around, I came home and noticed my upstairs neighbor's car was gone. This is a rare treat, he-of-the-open-windows actually leaving his home (he's normally there 24/7, either unemployed like me, or stuffing envelopes and making the fabled $3000 - $5000 per month from home that the telephone pole flyers promise), and giving me a chance to have a smoke out here in the middle of the day. I did my usual courtesy rounds, though, after I got my mail, just to see if any other windows around my place were open. The only one I saw was the second story one of CGWI, and imagine my lack of concern about THAT.

So I got out here, lit up, and decided to do some reading before I started writing. After a few minutes of this, I heard CGWI coming out on her balcony, clearly talking on the phone. I say clearly because she only seems to have one volume - whether while chatting or moaning - and that is playing to the back row of the theater. So, like it or not, I was once again privy to her conversation, something that blocked out any chance of me focusing on my reading. The conversation, I quickly learned, concerned the dog. What do you know - my manager HAD brought it up. She was talking to a friend about how the landlady wouldn't listen to her because she knew that her father was paying the rent, and that she didn't think the landlady could do anything about it, blah blah blah. If I'd had her cell number, I might have texted her at that point and let her know that the landlady (the office is right by my apartment) could likely hear every word she was saying, just like me. But, sometimes these kids gotta learn.

She went back inside after a couple of minutes, but not before I heard The Guy (Asshat status unknown) talking to her from inside. I was able to read again. I heard a car pull up into the complex, and decided to check and see if it was Upstairs Guy returning home from his all-too-brief-journey (maybe he'd gone out to pick up some more envelopes). No, not him. It was a Sheriff's car. Two officers got out and came walking by me, calmly and slowly, and one said hi to me. They kept going, and GUESS where they ended up?

I heard CGWI talking to them at the top of the stairs, but couldn't make out much. I did hear her use the words "I'll be moving in a couple of weeks anyway" and my heart did a pleasant little somersault. Soon one officer came strolling back and got in the car. After a couple of minutes, the other officer did, too. Okay, I was really confused. Clearly, if it WAS Asshat up there, there had been no fighting of any kind, so there was no reason for her, or anyone else, to call the police. Was my landlady trying to have her forcibly evicted for having a dog? I didn't think such a thing was legally possible, but I wouldn't put it past her to try. This is the same landlady who has cars of tenant guests towed at 1:00 in the morning on a Friday night for being in the (closed) office parking row.

I heard the office door open as the cops started their car, and out came said landlady, walking toward them. "What's going on?" I heard her say, because her volume level, too, is suited for singing the national anthem in a powerless stadium (thankfully, I only know this to be true for her "chat" volume...). She clearly hadn't called them. Traffic was going by on the street, being rush hour, and the police cruiser engine was going, so I could only get little bits. But I heard:

COP: "Just a father and daughter blah blah blah--"

LANDLADY: "Not even supposed to have a dog in there."

COP: "Blah blah leash--"

LANDLADY: "Blah blah blah even with a leash--"

COP: "Blah blah moving in a couple of weeks blah blah--"

That's about all I got. Now I'm still confused. The police being called was some kind of father/daughter thing? Did her father call the police on her? For the DOG? Or did CGWI herself call the police, in some kind of dingbat expectation that they would listen to her story and go tell the landlady the dog was allowed to stay? I do not know. But the police left, the landlady went back to the office, and I saw the girl and her young knight come down the stairs (without the dog, who surely sat at the door wondering, "Is anyone going to #$@& walk me EVER?!") and head toward the back of the complex, where he parks his white Camaro (which I know because I've been out on that side smoking a couple of times when they've parked and climbed over the low brick wall between the mini-mall and our complex).

So today's mystery is still a mystery, but one with a dandy silver lining. Loud neighbors gone in a couple of weeks! Woo hoo! The complex will once again be peaceful and quiet. All that will be left to make the tenants' lives here perfect is to find some way to rid of that cigar guy...

Footprints II

Okay, can you see two sets of footprints NOW?

UPDATE - India Cloud found and back home

You might have seen the comment on the initial post on this blog stating that India was back home with her family. I wanted to confirm it through a couple of other sources before I updated here, and I did so. It is confirmed that she's back home. She was found in the Haight area in San Francisco.

I don't have any other details, and don't need 'em. Now that she's back, that's her business and the family's business. The important thing is that she's safe, and she's home.

Thanks for your eyes and prayers, everybody. Happy ending.

India Update - Spotted in San Francisco

Got this update, posting it here:

"India Cloud was recently seen on Haight Street, near Amoeba Records in San Francisco. Her hair has been bleached so she may appear slightly different from her photo. She has moved from this location, but may not have gone far. She was reported alone and seeming confused.

India Cloud has been missing from her home since May 29th. She is 16 years old. Her family is desperately looking for her and is concerned for her safety. Please help them find her."

Anyone in the Bay Area, please take note, and see the previous note for contact info. Thanks.

ALERT: Nor Cal people - MISSING GIRL

This is one of those things you come across, a friend of a friend of a friend situation. But it's here, it's local, it's real, it's not some internet email forward thing that's been floating around for ten years. A 16-year-old girl is missing, in our area, and her family needs our help.

The girl's name is India Cloud (the family's last name is Cloud). I'm just going to go ahead and cut and paste the information note from her father, Chris, that's been going around to people:

MY DAUGHTER INDIA IS MISSING
Share Today at 2:21am

India Cloud was last seen on Friday May 29th, at 1:30 pm, walking on Sir Francis Drake blvd. in Fairfax, heading towards San Anselmo. She was carrying a wheeled suitcase and was possibly hitchhiking. India is 16 years old. Her Height is 5'7", she weighs approximately 120 lbs, her eyes and hair are brown. Her clothing is unknown.

Possible areas she might be are: Marin County, San Anselmo, San Rafael, or heading towards Sacramento. Please contact Chris at 916 267-9883 or email at cfcloud23@gmail.com



I really don't know much more than that myself, except that things are really getting mobilized, fliers are going up, and a lot of people are on the lookout for India. All I ask, all my Northern Cal people, is that we do the same. In case like this, whether it's a runaway situation or not really doesn't matter. Finding her and getting her back to her parents does.

Please, if you hear anything, contact Chris Cloud using the information above. Or, hell, contact me and I'll do it. Keeps your eyes sharp and your prayers strong for the sake of the Cloud family, will you? Thank you all.