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Discussion in 'Bad Dog Cafe' started by Larry F, Jul 20, 2019.
You need this guy.
Feel your pain Larry, definitely feel your pain.
Our next door neighbor, a tenant in the two family next door, has been there ten years or more. Working, normal guy.
Likes to hang on his front steps, smoke ciggies and have a beer, no big deal. Weekends, maybe out until 11 or a bit later. No big deal.
Last week, he had a friend visiting, and Tuesday they were out there until almost midnight, Wednesday until 1:30 am, and Thursday night until 3:30 am. I mean laughing, joking, yelling at each other, obviously quite drunk.
That was it. I went over on Friday and, very politely, read him the riot act--"Have some consideration for your neighbors. Your front steps are not a barroom, they are a street where people live."
He took it well, and peace has reigned since.
But holy mama, I was angry! I said about 1% of what I could have.
Worst comes to worst, there's 911.
150 watt stereo playing Trout Mask Replica is what I employed last time I found myself in that position!
For added fun play along!
This. Over and over, as loud as you can.
Even though I've got some residual paralysis in my legs, I wouldn't be too afraid of mixing it up with those kids. For one thing, they come from well-off families, from what I've learned living here. Me, I grew up playing in bars with my bands in the Pacific Northwest for 15 years, starting at age 17. We handled all of the business and travel logistics ourselves, without the input from our parents. They did pitch in to help us pack up after a gig in which the whole town was iced over. We really did appreciate our dads helping us drive across the locally infamous steel bridge, the narrowest I've been on. But otherwise, we just wised up, kept our mouths shut, and did the gig. Maybe we would tell our parents the next day how the gig went, or maybe not. It was OUR deal, not our parents'.
Anyway, playing in logging towns, biker bars, mill towns, skid road establishments, etc., nothing fazes me in terms of public misbehavior. And paraphrasing Walter White, we weren't the ones who had to be afraid in tough bars; it was the patrons in the tough bars that were afraid of us. That was one of the most useful things I learned about gigging when I started out: I was the badass and everybody else better watch the eye contact thing with me. Sometimes I played pretty (like the time I played a solo version of Over the Rainbow in a logging bar in Washington state during a technical pause of some sort, and a Native American guy with a gorgeous, long ponytail took the mic out in front of the stage and gave a soulful vocal rendition of the tune--goosebumps, man), but I could play violently and scare the crap out of anyone I wanted, whenever I wanted. All with just a 54 Strat, custom-made amp, and no pedals. I sometimes thought of my solos as a kind of guitar-whipping.
Med students? Ooh, now I'm scared, shaking even. Not.
Seriously, the party eventually moved inside, but the sound in our house was much louder. I finally did call the cops, which did the trick. Our town, population 1,000 (we sit inside the larger city of Iowa City) has a history of being unhappy with renters in general, and the cops are all too happy to keep them in line. Our laws and regulations are set up to keep renters from ruining the otherwise nice vibe here. If I was serious about shutting these guys down, I'd just call the house's owner and tell him what's up. The rental property owners are terrified that their tenants will piss off the regular owners, who can be fined themselves for the bad behaviour of their tenants.
Remind me to tell you guys about my Chicago apartment noise wars. Need I have to say who emerged victorious? Thought not.
No, no, no. Don't even think it. No good would ever come from it and it won't work with today's kids. I feel sorry for your pain and there is a feeling of helplessness with a bunch of boorish neighbors going above and beyond to be A-holes.
Speaking of my band days, we once played a gig in a logging community in Oregon named Vernonia (Ring of Fire was filmed there). We had dinner in the local diner, which was populated with loggers. On the jukebox (this was 1970), I found Instant Karma or Cold Turkey, with the B-side of Don't Worry Kyoto... Daring the rednecks to beat me up, I played the song to see if I could get a rise out of them (it was a very divisive time, and I certainly didn't try to smooth things over). What I didn't expect was the reaction I got: nothing, absolutely nothing. The patrons didn't even seem to notice that music was playing. I had been hoping for a better story than this, but this is what I got.
A couple of years later, I was firmly ensconced in the bar scene in the Portland area, and needed to be ready to jump into any fight involving an audience member and a band member. Fortunately, the other bandmates, and a sizeable number of audience members would gladly, gleefully even, jump into action. Some of our regulars were millworkers out dancing with their wives, and were the straightest, most lowkey guys you could hope to meet. But when danger on the dance floor beckoned, these modest, lowkey guys would leave their wives at the table, and would jump up, taking off their glasses and watches and rolling up their sleeves. Even though we were long-haired rascals (at best), we were their band and this was their bar. I don't remember many punches actually being thrown, but we did have the sheriff's department post squad cars outside after threats of "tearing this place apart, stick by stick," and the like. Good times.
Larry you can borrow my PA anytime if you want to make a point!
Cat urine is tough... Would Coyote Urine work???
Comes in gallons and gels apparently...
Pic of the girls in Bikinis or it didn’t happen!
I'm in the get your band round for an outdoor rehearsal camp. 100 watt HiWatts and Twin Reverbs. 'Call that loud? This is loud!'
So am I reading this right?
There are a bunch of young, semi drunk women next door in bikinis, all soaking wet and sliding around together on the floor.
Hell.. I’d pay for that.
I live next to a major construction site in central London. I bought a pair of Bose noise-cancelling earphones.
They are life-altering.
Just saying, so you don’t have to do something stupid.
Ya know, my attic studio has a window facing the house next door, overlooking the backyard.
Have I mentioned my amps? Three ODS types, a Trainwreck type, and a Victoria Bandmaster type. More speakers and cabs than I can count.
Ready to rumble!
Hmm, I'm a bit biased about the original post....of course it's very rude behaviour from the neighbours.
It's absolutely standard in my neighbourhood to inform the neighbours that a party/BBQ/whatever extravaganza is going to happen and it's probably going to be long and loud - usually followed with an invitation to join the party.That's how our neighbour's and we do it and it works fine.
Key to it having been us to start a summerparty each year since 2014 and invite neighbours and friends. It's a whole different atmosphere once you actually know your neighbours personally - in 99% a more relaxed relationship.
I'm all with you on being p....d about that annoying party.
Now, the one thing that irks me a bit - even if the whole OP is obviously a rant and maybe meant to be tongue-in -cheek - is that you're in no way targeting the ones responsible for the nuisance. That would be the neighbours throwing the party and obviously not able or interested to sort of watch after their guests....instead your idea is fat-shaming woman?
Sorry, that's just not cool in real life and rather not funny as a joke.
Out of your entire old man rant all I remember is this.
"The group includes about 5 25-year old girls in bikinis."
What was the problem again?
Wait. I assume you own a guitar. And an amp. Seems to me that one way or another, that can solve this problem.
My dear man, one inflates the entire cat. Or attempts to. Meow.
Maybe an old Jim Nabors 8 track, if you have one.
It was the flip side of Cold Turkey. At the time it was a hit, a co-worker and I would hang out after work at a small tavern near our homes. Cold Turkey was on the juke box. A couple of regulars discovered Don't Worry on the flip side and would deliberately play it to see if it would get a rise out of anyone. The manager/bartender finally got tired of this one night, unplugged the juke box while it was playing, took it out and threw it as far as he could into the snow-covered fields next to the tavern.
Yoko has that kind of effect on people.