Hard to believe, but it's now officially four years since a Saskatchewan judge told undischarged bankrupt and burger-munching financial fugitive Patrick Ross that he owed me a pile of money, and cranked up the accruing annual interest rate to a whopping five per cent. At this point, Patrick owes me somewhere in the vicinity of $125,000-$130,000, but I'm not really trying to be precise anymore; I just know that with every month that goes by, Patrick's debt to me gets kicked up by another several hundred dollars.
The only potential recent development is that my Lloydminster-based spies and confidential informants tell me (via drive-by photos) that something is happening at Casa Ross with the appearance that that collection of truck-driving hillbillies might finally be cleaning out that property in preparation for selling it, since I imagine all four of the Ross siblings really want to get their hands on their late father's bloated assets and, if that is the case, well, I have all the right people lined up and ready to go once that dump goes on the market.
In the meantime, I have heard nothing about Patrick's idiotic defamation lawsuit against me, and I have been advised that, if he chooses not to pursue it (which is his responsibility), I should not waste any time in worrying about it.
Until next month, or something.
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