not casing the joint, really

Near the “parking-for-our-Hummers-is-more-important-than-history” country club in Knoxville is an estate that has one of the best Halloween displays in town. The estate is on a road that has such heavy traffic, stopping even for a second is very likely to cause an accident. Every year I try to snap a picture and every year I end up with a dozen blurry, useless pictures. Not one to learn from my mistakes and unwilling to give up on my quest to immortalize someone’s very macabre sense of humor, I’m planning to drive back and forth in front of the estate this week. I’ll try until someone reports me for suspicious behavior. When that hapens, you’ll vouch for me won’t you? Won’t you? Hello? Anyone? chirp-chirp

Update: Fearless Doug hopped out of the car and took pictures.

3 thoughts on “not casing the joint, really

  1. Amusing story about that residence: the woman who taught my real estate class knows the butler of the home and saw him one day at Fresh Market. She knew the house had been on and off the market, so she asked him whether he’d had any calls. He said (imagine an English or Scottish accent–can’t remember which), “Oh yes, we will be visited next week by a Mr. Puff Father.”

    In the end, Puff Daddy (as he was then known) opted against the place due to the lack of security that its proximity to the road presented.

    I like the name Puff Father better anyway.

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