Common Sense and Consideration

It's 4am. It's 4 effing am. Ask me what the hell I am doing "blogging" at this hour. The old me, (read: pre-kid me) would usually just be getting home from dancing all night to Covenant's "Dead Stars" or the latest release from VNV Nation. But this is the new me, the mom, the old lady who goes to bed at 10, reads her book club assigned reading, and is asleep before 11.

I'm awake and blogging because some idiot 2 STREETS OVER has decided to party like it's 1999 and blast this reggae/hip-hop/techno/rick james/sean paul club remix from

• their car?
• their house?
• a bad radio?
• 2 turntables and a microphone?

No clue. I have no clue what Mr. DJ over there is playing this shit from but it woke me, woke Randy, and caused the neighbor's dog to start howling right by the window Dante's room faces, and guess what happened then? Fucking asshole. Right now, I've got The Smiths running through my head with choruses of "Hang the DJ" repeating themselves over and over again.

Who, in their right mind, looks at their watch and says, "Hey look, it's 3:30 in the morning, let me blast my music so the whole neighborhood can know that I have both bad taste in music and little or no consideration for the fact that it's 3:30 in the FUCKING MORNING and people are probably sleeping." Really. Who does that? I bet it's the same guy who drives in the middle of the road instead of picking a lane. Or the guy who throws their trash all over a kid's playground. Or the guy who sits there in a public place, like a restaurant or shop, on their cell phone and talks so loud about "bid'ness" or "bitches" with no regard that there are little children near them. Or even These Guys over at Nanny Goats in Panties.

What ever happened to common sense and consideration? Where is the logic in blasting your music in the middle of the night? Who thinks that this is ok? Even if you come from Broken Home Town and your name is Orphan McLonelyton, and you've been raised by wolves and have no social graces, what could possibly compel you to think that "3:30 am" plus "stereo" plus "this one goes to eleven", is a good and sound choice?

The irony is always this: I call the police to report noise violation and by the time the get their derrieres over here, the music is either turned down or Lawrence Welk has decided to turn in for the night. Either way, no citation is issued, no wrists slapped, no evidence of noise, and I look the "that crazy lady who hears things in the night". I wonder if that happened tonight as I was sitting here with my watery eyes, staring at this bright white computer screen.

I guess I'll go read until Reggaefest Craputron 2008 ends.