A COUPLE of weeks ago me wife and I noticed Squeaky, crying and sobbing, not in her bedroom with the door closed, but in the hallway, as if the last day in the final judgement. In the beginning we the people thought it was perhaps result of the stupid burglars who entered thinking there was possibly anything worthy of stealing in such a house.
Some time later, Leo the worst drummer in the world, (featured at least 10 times in youtube) next door, was seen packing his Salvation Army wardrobe and belongings, not in a truck but his four doors, white Japanese vehicle.
There was not fight, physical or otherwise to mention. However, your humble servant, enemy of noise, intolerant to loud conversations, laughing as if in the middle of nowhere, noticed that Leo was bringing his male friends on a daily basis, staying late at night to snort coke/heroine or whatever. I know, because concrete residences are just a resonance chambers, anything said, done is heard next door.
I do not hate them bastards, riff raff, or wish them any harm, but I declare that I am happy. Now I do not have to listen to Leo also known as Pillsbury Boy, playing his drums out of tune, cheap cymbals with the sound of a soda cracker tin can cover, unable to keep a decent beat or some melodic riff once in a while.
Or his retard conversations with his likewise friends, frustrated musicians wannabes without talent, only good making amplified noise with electric instruments, loud as possible in one room without any acoustic isolation.
Squeaky is less repugnant, only her drill like voice in your eardrums, cut in half melon breasts by the collar bone and turtle body. She does not have the habit of slamming the kitchen cabinet doors as the gone bastard used to at breakfast, lunch and dinner. That simple act has made a difference in my daily activities at home, believe it or not.
Both are guilty of no consideration to human beings, us. Or animals. Two pets were killed by lack of attention in their backyard in the last four years, left out through rain, heat, cold, fed only when they remembered they were there.
You out there living in some neck of the forest may think I exaggerate.
But I rarely do. Anyjuan can accuse and be a critic, what matters in any court is the evidence. Yours to check in youtube. Copy, paste and click if interested.
http://youtu.be/Xv-x2k3Mte0 Leo, retard constituents from porch
http://youtu.be/KMGofgvwMIQ Animal abuse
http://youtu.be/0mEMMiQej44 Music virtuosos
http://youtu.be/LYiUV7N7vu4 Vampires in day time
Finally, when I started blogging I was only focused in becoming a reference about gardening/agriculture/landscaping in this concrete/asphalt urban context of the Caribbean and beyond.
After writing these lines, looking in retrospect all the video clips I e realize I have covered the whole court and nine miles. As a bonus, without much thought, a collateral benefit, chronicler of the low quality of life dominating the scene, panorama in this hell of noise, still the Paradise the Enchanted Isle for the village idiots. Puerto Rico, where misery not only loves companion, it is rewarded with recognition when one falls in the isle quicksands of the dominant mediocrity looking the other way.
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