Let us celebrate the Arcata Eye Police Log

Introduced to me some years back by Elvis Telecom, I believe. The Arcata Eye itself is, as its masthead declares, "the mildly objectionable weekly newspaper for Arcata, California" (Arcata being a town on the coast way up north near Eureka and not too far from the Oregon border as a result -- it is rather a hippyish place, as a look at the town home page will demonstrate).

So far so good, in that police logs are common enough things in smaller town newspapers, usually being dull recitations of reports looking into disturbances of the peace. However, the Arcata Eye Police Log is something else again. Written in a rather wry style, shall we say, it's popular enough to have spawned two books and, well, has to be experienced to be fully appreciated. Dip in anywhere, but here's a sample or two from recent reports:

3:04 a.m. A hitherto unimagined link between an unlocked door and missing jewelry was uncovered in Valley West.

5:40 p.m. The origins of the road rage incident are unknown, since, said the reporting motorcyclist, he had been following his eventual aggressor - an old gray four-door - at a responsible distance. (If true, this would differentiate him from the majority of bumper-beguiled motorists in Arcata.) So there they were, driving south on West End Road all peaceable-like, when, just before the roundabout at Spear Avenue, the car slowed to about 10 mph. Then, in the roundabout, the car driver suddenly slammed on the brakes. The two vehicles proceed west on Spear to the four-way stop at Alliance Road, where, said the motorcyclist, the gray car suddenly kicked into reverse and accelerated at him at high speed but stoppped before it hit him. The car then continued west on Spear while he turned left to head south on Alliance. At this, the car driver hit the brakes and cut through a gas station so as to race up behind him at high speed on Alliance. But, anticipating the aggression, the biker zipped in behind a parked semi truck to hide as the gray car roared past. He waited a few minutes, then continued south on Alliance, only to see the hostility-mobile headed toward him in the northbound lane of Alliance. As the two vehicles passed each other, he said, the car swerved at him and one of two young males deployed a perkily upturned middle finger along with the compact if unimaginative felicity, "Fuck you."

Tuesday, February 1 12:11 a.m. Two million years of societal evolution culminated at the portal of a Ninth Street tavern, where a bartender and doorman were menaced by three men wielding sticks. There was some pushing, then some scampering, then some arresting on public drunkenness charges. The sticks were released on their own recognizance.

1:18 a.m. A pair of motorized feebs bred in Huntington Beach allegedly tried their hand at a form of motorized baking, spinning donuts in the Plaza's lawn. With the troubled town square's track-torn turf behind them, they raced southbound on State Route 255, only to be pulled over and arrested on a DUI charge and a warrant near Samoa. Installed in the Pink House, the boozy boyos had time to contemplate the $745 vandalism bill headed their way.

1:44 a.m. Three men sprayed water-soluble red paint on a freeway overpass. Police told them to find something better to do.

10:24 a.m. A man who roams the streets occasionally yelling at passersby is now said to be in possession of several knives and even swords, and is known to frequent City Hall. perhaps not coincidentally, fresh physical barriers now confront those with business in the lobby.

And so forth. Current archives stretch back nine months (any more and why would they need to publish the books?) but they've been doing this for over a decade now, bless their hearts.