I hate my neighbors with the heat of a thousand suns. I seethe every time I pass them by - I hold myself back from yelling obscene things they can do to themselves whenever I think of them.
To the bitch on my left, whose son killed the two kittens I was feeding outside and left their mangled bodies in my driveway - your demon spawn and his brother are products of their upbringing, and as such I blame you for their cruelty and sadism. From scratching up our cars with tree branches, hosting parties for pay where guns are fired, and repeatedly terrorizing and cursing out our 95 year old neighbor, may you be infested with thrush that permanently seals your foul mouth closed, so we never again have to hear your filthy tirades.
To the bastards on my right, drug dealers that are out night and day, littering my lawn with crack baggies (the same ones I repeatedly brought to the local precinct, only to be told I could be arrested for having drug paraphernalia)…to you, for stinking up the air with your smoke, for having buys made openly right in front of my house, for blasting your throbbing music loud enough to make even my mild mannered husband snap, you with the foul mouth mother who has called me enough racist terms to fill a book, but yet who hosts religious crusades in your house…to you, I can only wish sterility, so you cannot reproduce and pass on your twisted genes to yet another generation.
I smile my tight little smile, preach tolerance to my son and patience to my husband, and try to keep it all to myself. There is no solution right now, so all I can do is vent here.
I think I hate your whole neighborhood. That isn’t normal unless you live in a particularly bad area of Detroit. I would either be burning all their houses down by now or packing up my stuff and moving to …anywhere else.
Pictures, videos, whatever you can, but from behind windows and with your lights out. Blog it, send it to 1 Police Plaza with a cc to the local papers like The NY Times, The Daily News, and The Post.
Add letter captions like “Above The Law: The Drug Dealers NY Cops Can’t Bust, Won’t Bust, or are Paid Not To Bust”. Keep sending them, with updates, over and over again until you see action.
Or maybe they just don’t give that much of a shit about some hotshot who found (gasp!) evidence of drug use in an apartment. I feel bad for your friend’s situation if his frothed up fantasy is indeed true, but I’m very, very glad that the failed war on drugs has ground the police’s motivation down to the point where a raid is not scheduled for such banal trivialities.
But then again, a bong was found (:eek:) which means inaction on the police’s part must be motivated by something more.
I had to answer this one. We have no more room for another indoor cat, and we’re feeding the outdoor feral kitties in another location so they’re not as visible. Hopefully they’ll be safer this way.
As for the drugs - I have no wish to debate the merits of legalization. Crack is not the same as pot. I’m sure the police are not involved in a criminal sense, but I do know what my experiences have been with them. I can only assume drug dealing is low on their list of priorities for my area.
For various financial and medical reasons we are here for the coming few years. I was just venting - thanks for the voices of support.
Could you try to trap them and take them into a shelter where they will be looked after and (hopefully) adopted?
I wish you the best in putting up with horrible neighbours for the next few years. I have some irritating neighbours, too, but the irritations are quite minor compared to yours (well, they’re minor, period, but living next to each other and getting irritated on a daily basis is, well, irritating).
I’ve taken some kittens to a nice family in New Jersey, took others to Long Island…but the ones out there now are too feral to catch. Our local shelter is overwhelmed, so we’ve put together shelters of a sort in the back to protect the remaining cats from the elements.
Finding the dead ones just broke my heart. Another neighbor saw the boys pelting the kittens with rocks, then stomping on them.