Where's the Irish Mafia When You Need Them?

Sometimes I wonder where all the asshats in the world come from. Those people who never think beyond their own genitalia to realize that there are other people in the world. No wonder there's war. As long as there are these kind of people, there will be those of us who get pissed off at them one too many times. One only has so much patience you know...

I've complained here before about the Asshat family who live across the street. You know, the people with the Shar-Peis. Like most families today, the dogs are better trained than the kids are.

Today the high school boy came home with his car stereo louder than usual. I mean LOUD. It was so loud that the pictures on our walls were rattling. It was so loud that my heart actually fluttered, and not in a good way. Eventually, Joel, Heather and I ran into each other in the entry, each of us brought out by the noise. We went outside and stared at the guy, who left the stereo on while he proceeded to clean out his car. After a few minutes, he stood up and saw us standing there.

"Could you please turn that down?" I asked, too nicely.
"Sure." And he did.

Not two minutes later it was back up. I called the police to ask if anything could be done. I explained that this happens every day, several times a day, and often late at night. I was told that the next time it happens, call them and they'll send an officer out to ticket the kid. Yeah, right. I call and the police make it out 20 minutes later, after the kid has either left or gone into the house.

I wrote the landlord of that house a letter, but nothing changed. Guess now I'll have to go talk to him personally next time I see him come home (he lives in the house next door to the Asshats).

I don't get it. I like to turn my car stereo up sometimes, but when I pull into the neighborhood I turn it down. And when I have to make the turn-around in the cul-de-sac late at night, I turn my headlights off so that they don't disturb people who may be asleep. That's what a nice person I am. What's so hard about being considerate?