Today the incontinent little boy across the street
and up two houses decided to treat the neighborhood to rap music. I say "incontinent" because he is unable to converse with his little friends except loudly, with the word "fuck" spurting out of his mouth every few syllables, much like the recording he inflicted upon us for most of the day.
His parents have been asked to intervene, but they are unable to do anything about it, apparently. Their junior-high infant rules the roost. They have no say in his music, his dress, his conduct. He does not care that senior citizens live next door to him and might not want to hear his and his recordings' truly disgusting language; the past and hard-earned retirement mean nothing to him. He has no interest in the future, and takes no account that there are toddlers across the street, receiving the full volume of the barrage.
I thought about taking my sound system out in front of the house and playing at full volume Barney songs, or maybe classical music, or possibly (to be as irritating as the monotonous foul-language rap) the barking dogs version of "Jingle Bells" but I could not bring myself to be that hateful.
His parents bought their house at what must have been about $250,000 dollars; they could easily get $700k for it now. I'm truly hoping that they believe the stories about real estate being at the peak of the market and sell, sell, sell. Their darling little asocial offspring deserves a fresh chance somewhere else.