LIVE MUSIC CRAPITAL OF THE WORLD

Dear reggae/whatever band that practices in that 2nd floor garage apartment from 8pm-midnight right behind our building: please stop getting high before you play - the 2-chord song you jammed on for the past two hours is not as interesting as you think and my anger is keeping me awake. Now you're done but you're all talking in loud voices. I'll bet at least one of you people just lit up an American Spirit something or other with a sense of post-coital satisfaction. Of course, I lack the backbone to go out on my walkway and tell you to shut-up, since such an outburst would cause all the tiny non-sheep-herding, non-hunting, non-frisbee-catching purse-sized dogs in our building to start yapping even more loudly than they were at the tooth-rattling sound of your bloodless, three-note major-chord bass runs and marginally competent drumming. Which is ridiculous, because if I did you'd probably all just apologize and look embarassed and call me "sir".