Tiny Bubbles in my Tequila sunset.

Ya mean you don't keep that piece loaded? What do when some missionary comes knocking unexpectdly? Dig around till you find some bullets?

I don't have simply sympathy, I have empathy. The only time I've felt homicidal in my life, but that many times over, is when our next door neighbor, next door as in eight feet away, had the wife's rather violent fourteen year old nephew ensconced in the room directly across from our so called study - which is where my husband wrote, and I did my landscape architecture homework. His writing was complex, and my homework could suck up thirty hours in the bigtime courses, many times 'stressed' homework as in mgod how will I ever get this done ever...
and they both involved thinking consecutive thoughts. I also worked full time before taking the classes and then, and then, doing the assignments..

He decided, I gather, to be Hendrix, but without any melody all. Full blast. Hours. Police calling to close to no avail. Homicide would be justifiable in that case. We nearly sold the house.

But, Tiny Bubbles? Homicide near mandatory, unless you can think of some better response...

I think, on longer mulling, that Tequila Sunrise is worse than Tiny Bubbles.

Ok so it just gets worser and worser. I found the ammo, loaded for bear I am and saunter ouside. It's quiet so I sit down and then, and THEN, "he" starts off with Hoagy Carmichaels' Stardust and then, and THEN seques into David Essex's Rock On. I need dynamite and the freankin' government Patriot Act says me, a common law abiding citizen can't use dynamite in the city limits. Fargin' Bastiches.

Does Freakin Idiot have a wifey?

A snotty fourteen year old trying to do Hendrix???

Quick, I'll help find the ammo.

As for the neighbors, we have the secret weapon of Fred. Fred goes outside and starts screeching and no one can hear anything but Fred. Hah!!!

I used to be one storefront away from the Venice Canaligators playing Extremely Loudly on Sunday afternoons. That was when we had an upstairs studio on a business street. In that case we opened the windows wide and sort of danced around as we caved in, organized what we were doing - say, cleaning, not reading - to the time-constrained predictable blast of amplified noise in the summer. But hey, however good or bad they were, they played some music.

Not the same thing as in a quiet neighborhood. Bet you are not the only annoyed person.

Damn, dyslexia! That just sucks!!

Just give it up to Mary, the dude is now doing some bossa nova. I'm calling for a tactical thermo-nuclear device.

Oh, lord, I'm so sorry for you, Dys!

I'm not too sure how things are organised in the US of A - but - with this noise - electricity os the key!

Can you just sneak in and take out the fuse - or cut the powere or sumthin'?

Worked a treat in a shop once - where the radio was really blaring, and then came the spruiker. I complained to the shop staff about the noise, and got an inane response. Decided to walk out, but had to go past the spruiker to get to the exit - and there was her little tinny amplifier, plugged into a power point, just in my way - and definitely a safety issue! Turned it off, yanked the cord out and walked out the door. Almost quiet! Looked back, and there she was, goldfishing and looking a tad surprised. Shoulda jumped on the plug and broke it - and gave us all some peace!

Yeah! Sic Fred on 'em! It'd serve 'em right!

Good idea, Diane!

Good, quiet neighbors are worth their weight in gold.

Lousy, loud neighbors on the other hand, should be drawn and quartered.

Church Bells
From 'Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album'

(Sound: Church bells, lots of them, ringing.)

Man: I wish those bloody bells would stop.

Wife: Oh, it's quite nice dear, it's Sunday, it's the church.

Man: What about us atheists? Why should we 'ave to listen to that sectarian turmoil?

Wife: You're a lapsed atheist, dear.

Man: The principle's the same. The Mohmedans don't come 'round here wavin' bells at us! We don't get Buddhists playing bagpipes in our bathroom! Or Hindus harmonizing in the hall! The Shintus don't come here shattering sheet glass in the shithouse, shouting slogans-

Wife: All right, don't practice your alliteration on me.

Man: Anyway, when I get my membership card and blazer badge back from the League of Agnostics, I shall urge the executive to lodge a protest against that religious racket! Pass the butter knife!

Wife: WHAT??

Man: PASS THE BUTTER KNIFE!! (pause) THANK YOU! IF ONLY WE HAD SOME KIND OF MISSILE!

Wife: 'OLD ON, I'LL CLOSE THE WINDOW.

Man: WHAT?!

Wife: I SAID, I'LL CLOSE THE WINDOW!

(Sound: Window closing, bells get faint, but are still there)

Man: If only we had some kind of missile, we could take the steam out of those bells.

Wife: Well, you could always use the number 14-St. Joseph-the-somewhat- divine-on-the-hill ballistic missile. It's in the attic.

Man: What ballistic missile would this be, then?

(Sound: Bells begin to get increasingly louder)

Wife: I made it for you, it's your birthday present!

Man: Just what I wanted, 'ow nice of you to remember, my pet. 'ERE!

Wife: WHAT?

Man: THOSE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER!

Wife: WHAT?

Man: THOSE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER!!

Wife: THE BELLS ARE GETTING LOUDER! OOOH, LOOK!

Man: WHAT?

Wife: THE CHURCH, IT.. ITS COMING CLOSER! ITS COMING DOWN THE 'ILL!

Man: WHAT A LIBERTY!

Wife: ITS TURNING INTO OUR LANE! WELL, YOU BETTER GO PUT IT OUT OF IT'S MISERY.

Man: WHERE'S THIS MISSILE, THEN?

Wife: IT'S IN THE ATTIC. PRESS THE BUTTON MARKED CHURCH!

Man: 'OW DO I AIM IT?

Wife: IT AUTOMATICALLY HOMES IN ON THE NEAREST PLACE OF WORSHIP!

Man: BUT THAT'S ST. MARKS!

Wife: IT ISN'T NOW, LOOK!! OH, ITS OP'NING THE GATE.

Man: WHAT? USE THE MEGAPHONE!

Wife: IT'S OP'NING THE GATE!! 'HURRY UP, ITS TRAMPLING OVER THE AZALIAS!

(Sound: Missle launch, explosion, bells diminish)

Man: Did I 'it it?

Wife: Yes, right up the aisle.

Man: Well I've always said, There's nothing an agnostic can't do if he really doesn't know whether he believes in anything or not.

I live in a rural area--no antelope, but the deer and the bear frolic in the back yard.

For several summers we were tortured by a neighbor nearly a quarter mile away who liked to turn his bass waaaaay up.

The State Police used to talk to him about music on a regular basis.

He's in jail now for strangling his 17 year old girlfriend. She dissed him about his music.

Yow!

Hmmm....dys, maybe you and your wife should just take some bosonova lessons so you can dance while he plays.....if ya can't beat 'em....join 'em!