Westword, Denver’s altweekly, had a great post last week debunking a sort of semi-official convention rumor—one that made it as far as the august pages of the New York Post. Apparently, someone told someone that someone had been asked to piss in a pail as part of pre-convention protest prep. Three months ago. And that contribution, supposedly, was a drop in the bucket: as the story goes, somewhere in Denver, a “House of Urine” awaits tapped-out ne’er do-wells interested in filling up projectiles.

As the piece points out, three months is “a long time to be storing someone else’s piss.”

Let Westword (and basic logic) take it from here:

Where is this mysterious house? How is it that the house is “full” of urine? Does it brim to the ceiling or to the attic? Does urine spray out of the mail slot when the postman comes around? Does the neighborhood smell like piss?

CJR’s verdict? Golden reporting.

Clint Hendler is the managing editor of Mother Jones, and a former deputy editor of CJR.