I always read The Leader’s Police Log, and it occasionally has a weird posting. But I like even more of the stranger cop items. And I know just where to find them.

In The Leader’s Aug. 14 edition appeared this amusing Police Log entry: “In the 800 block of Jefferson St., police were called for vandalism to a building. A hole was dug in the shape of a penis, and paint was poured into it.”

I love items like that. And Exhibit A, as the cops might say, is the Arcata Eye, which its publisher calls “The mildly objectionable weekly newspaper for Arcata, Ca.”

Arcata is a cannabinated college town near the Oregon border, long known for its grow rooms and odd characters whose cerebral balance is often sketchy at best.

Kevin Hoover, the Eye’s publisher, is a talented writer, and he’s seized on a rich source of local material. His Arcata Police Logs have been made into books.

When I was on the faculty of Centrum’s writers’ encampment, I led a seminar in humor writing, and Hoover’s police items got the biggest laughs. My premise to these would-be humorists was that you can make just about anything funny — even a local cop column.

Submitted for your consideration: A few items from a recent Hoover Arcata Police Log:

—“Never pay up front to an unscrupulous lawn-mowing professional, as it may not happen.”

—“The Fort Knox-like security of a glove box parked on K Street somehow yielded its iContents after a quick smash and grab.”

—“A busy man outside a Plaza bar balanced out his personal hydrology by peeing in the street while holding a beer. He somehow found time between moisture-management mandates to bang on passing vehicles with a bat.”

—“Someone put a plastic baby doll inside a wicker basket on Spear Avenue and set it on fire.”

—“A guy in a hoodie and Grateful Dead t-shirt dishonored Jerry’s memory with verbal aggression at a downtown restaurant.”

—“A man said his ex-girlfriend was harassing him with text messages threatening to change their daughter’s last name.”

—“A woman charged $232.86 to the account of her estranged husband and signed the receipt ‘A—hole.” (Note: Hoover didn’t redact that word. Publisher’s prerogative)

—“Sure, the gate was closed. But the bike behind it was worth $900, so by sheer force of nature, it disappeared.”

—“A man wearing a helmet briefly refused to leave a Northtown erotic          supply store.”

—“A man who claimed to be the victim of a car theft left the police station after waiting five minutes for an officer. He told the staff they are “doing a terrible job.” A records check showed that he had no known vehicles registered to him.”

And I haven’t even mentioned several items about the Arcata guy with a yak.

Hoover, as you can see, is quite the clever humorist. I’ve just bought one of his books.

It’s good that PT doesn’t have this much strange behavior. But I probably should ask a local cop to confirm that.

—Bombers Away: The Growling is about to get much growlier, my military source tells me. There will soon be four times as many flyboy squadrons launching from Oak Harbor.

As noisy as the skies are getting around here, a personal perspective:

I went to high school next to a big Air Force base (my Dad was stationed there) in Oklahoma. Our school’s nickname was the Midwest City Bombers. No cute mascot.

Our school day was constantly interrupted by massive B-52s and B-47s taking off from Tinker Air Force Base. We were truly sonic youth — we had frequent three-minute noise timeouts in classroom lectures, waiting for the deafening roars to abate.

It was a bit like going to class in a strip mine.

(PT resident Bill Mann wrote the music and TV columns at four major dailies and humor pieces for USA Today).