toraque: You all can laugh and make jokes about this if you want, but the truth of the matter is that not only is the potato cartel real, they're some scary, badass motherfarkers. If you cross them, they'll come for you. The count each and every time they get crossed. Boy, can they count.I was working vice squad in Boise one freezing Thursday night a couple years ago when the call came in: big time hit up in tater town, bodies everywhere. We peeled out of the station in a hurry, but when we got there it was all over; god-awful mess, skins everywhere. Walls of the place looked like hash browns from so many tater tots being thrown around. The perps-whoever they were-knew how to work sour cream and chives all too well. They left their calling card, the way they always do: one big plastic Mister Potato Head hand, all scrunched up like it's giving the world the finger. Now, I was all boiled up and ready to go, but my partner just looked at me and said, "Forget it, Jake . . . it's Tater Town."We never did close that case.
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