Friday, December 01, 2006
War Ensemble
I warned the punk ass bastards who live next door to me that I had tired of trying to treat them like adults. I told them the next time they disturbed me with loud music or noise, that they'd hear my stereo. Since that warning, I've: had guests driven from my home by thumping Xbox noise through the wall Sunday evening; been disturbed by a loud screaming argument that lasted an hour Monday between 11pm and midnight; been awakened at 2:30 am Wednesday by Michael Jackson's Thriller at an unwholesome volume. Last night there was music thumping through the wall from 4 until 7pm. Their cacaphony only stopped at 7pm because I made good on my promised revenge. I have a Peavey sound system from the old garage band days. I placed the speakers facing against the wall adjoining the bedroom of my naughtiest noisy neighbor, the room from whence his stereo daily plagues us, turned the volume to 11, and inserted the above LP of light ballads by Slayer.
I used this tactic with the previous residents next door. After a week of such Pavlovian training all noise ceased, and they actually moved out. Last evening, after ten minutes of Dave Lombardo's thunderous double-bass drum kicking the stereo next door was off and the two roomies and their guests had left the house. I hope their plaster ceilings came down.
Yes, this is asinine behavior. I've become what I despise. But if I hear their stereo again I'll do the same. And if they wake me up one more time I'm going to start using my secret weapon at 6am when I get up for work. I'll continue using it during exam week.
Next selection? Pantera. Then perhaps Penderecki's Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima.
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3 comments:
Nice choices! Some Fantomas might suit the situation as well.
Just before we bought our house, the Woman Warrior and I lived in the bottom floor of a two-family place. The upstairs neighbors were two women who would get into whiny, driveling, sniveling fights that dribbled down onto our heads like a dry version of the old Chinese water torture. The worst part was, you couldn't actually hear what they were saying, just the noise of their whiny voices: "Nweeeew newww neww mweww wuwuwu nyah!" "Neyyah meeh meeh mayo BEEEGA meeya!"
As is so often the case, music was the answer. Every time they started whining, we pumped up the volume on Tito Puente's "El Cayuco." After the first few times, they usually settled down before Tito sang "Baila baila BAIILLAA Baila!"
Ah, I didn't even think of Fantomas, which also features Lombardo kickin' it.
I think hearing shouted arguments is even worse than hearing thumping bass. We endured one last week from next door, and for two years had an apartment where our upstairs neighbors routinely fought at 2am. Of course at that time we had loud parties on Monday nights.
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