I pit the moron in the back yard, and his fucking radio.

Now, I normally don’t pit people, apart from myself. In fact, I’m a firm believer in minding my own damn business, and letting other people mind theirs. I’m also usually a gentle soul. I consider myself tolerant. It takes a lot to tick me off. However, every man has his limit, and this morning, dear Dopers, I discovered mine.

I live in an apartment building, on the first floor. My window faces the back yard, where there is a small common area, with some greenery, as well as some benches and tables. It’s a very nice building. People around here mostly quietly keep to themselves and mind their own affairs, just the way I like it. There’s usually never any noise or loud music, apart from every now and then on the weekends, but hey, I can live just fine with that. Now, to set this little story up properly, it must also be mentioned that I currently have a job where I start work in the afternoons on the weekdays and work until nighttime. This means that I like to sleep until late in the day, which I’m usually able to do in peace, happily undisturbed.

This morning, however, to my absolute horror, I find myself suddenly awakened, at a most inappropriate time, with all the gentleness of being kicked in the balls by a donkey. The cause of this untimely arousal is the sound of a radio, sounding like it’s in the room with me, cranked up loud enough to wake the dead, mercilessly blaring out the latest Top 40 bullshit in copious amounts.

Hang on. I don’t own a radio, and if I did, I most certainly wouldn’t be playing that manure. I curse. I get dressed. I go to investigate. I check the back yard.

Turns out there’s a guy sitting out back, reading. I’m able to deduce with a fair degree of certainty that he is the person living in the apartment directly above mine, as I quickly spot a set of huge loudspeakers positioned in the open window of said apartment, pointing outwards, spewing forth garbage all over the back yard, and, most importantly, right into my open window directly below.

I confront the obviously brain-damaged moron:

“Excuse me, sir”, I inquire tentatively, “do you know anything about this?”, pointing to the wailing monstrosity in the window.

“Uh, yeah. It’s such a nice, sunny morning, so I thought I would sit out here studying a bit, and I like to have the radio on…”

“You do know other people live here, don’t you, who might not share your love of the latest concoctions from the entertainment industry?”

“Uh, sorry. You know, this place is so quiet it seems almost abandoned, I just didn’t think there was anyone around who would mind…”

Listen, fucktard. You live in a large apartment building. There are dozens, probably hundreds of people living in the building with you. Now, miraculously, they all seem to be well-behaved and considerate towards their fellow residents. So yeah, the place is nice and quiet. That is, it was, until your stupid ass and your fucking radio showed up. You know, if you’d been playing Beethoven, and perhaps turned the volume down to a humanly tolerable level, I wouldn’t have said anything. Hey, I would have loved it. However, that moronic dreck you’re listening to is where I draw the line. So, congratulations, sir, you have managed what few people are able to do: you have pissed me off.

Idiot.

Anyway, he turned it off. I think I’ll go get some more sleep now. Yeah, I know, I’m probably turning into one of those old geezers, and next I’ll be telling kids to get off the lawn. But still… idiot.

Well, that is all. Carry on.

Hey, I know you’re pissed off but you asked him to turn it off and he did. He sounded pretty resonable about it, lots of neighbours aren’t. So he did a boneheaded thing, everyone does from time to time, learning to deal with that is what makes the world go round.

SD

Yeah, count your blessings.
You could have little pre-pubescent popslut wannabes who play the SAME DAMN POP SONG OVER AND OVER on their CD player which happens to be pointed away from their house and straight at yours. On the days that you especially feel like lobbing a grenade over the fence, you politely ask the little darlings if they would mind turning it down - which they do. Unfortunately, they appear to suffer from instantaneous amnesia, because the following day or the next, here comes Smashmouth again!
I guess it is hereditary, because every 5th time or so when you talk to their parents, they say, “Oh! Are they playing music? I couldn’t hear it.”
Of course you couldn’t you syphillitic cow. The damned speakers are aimed AWAY from your house, directly AT ours!
I gotta move further away from people, for their sake, as well as mine.

Yes, count your blessings the guy actually was reasonable. That seems to be pretty rare these days.

I just had a great idea - an invention that will revolutionary the act of listening to music in public!

I envision using the technology of today to craft very tiny speakers - speakers that could be placed in some sort of brace or frame, such that they would fit over the head and reside directly over the ears. In fact, it might be possible to create speakers so small that they could be wedged into the ear itself, eliminating the need for the frame or brace.

Using my device, which I have modestly called the Brickerphonic Headspeakers, people could listen to music in the nice warm outdoors without bothering their neighbors!

I go now to draw up my patent application.

You’re not related to Leonard of Quirm , are you, Bricker?

I recently had a situation like this in the place I used to live. Thankfully, I have now moved, but this really just floored me when it happened.

I lived in a little 6-plex. Maybe 50 yards or so up the hill (accross our parking lot) was a 3 story apartment complex. For over 5 years I had never had a problem at all with anyone in either complex… the place was dingy but quiet and the neighbors kept to themselves… until “Captain Stereo” moved in to the other complex.

Captain Stereo has to have some kind of a disorder. The moment he moved in the first thing he did was set up the stereo, crank it up to 11, and flush the knob. He would then leave the door to his apartment wide open so the rest of the neighborhood could share in the experience with him.

I don’t mean party loud. I don’t even mean drunken party loud. I mean front-row-at-a-rock-concert-while-747’s-explode-overhead loud. So loud that from 50 yards away the sound came through my window and rattled both pictures and nerves.

Day 1, I sucked it up. Maybe he’s just having a get together, I thought. I ground my teeth, turned the swamp cooler fan on, and tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

Day 2 though, after a long day at work, I couldn’t take it anymore. I steeled myself (I hate confrontation), marched accross the parking lot, stood in front of his door, and politely knocked on the doorframe.

The music in that apartment was so loud I am fully convinced it could have killed small children and pets. I mean, it was so loud it wasn’t even MUSIC anymore. It was just sound induced pain. My knocks on the doorframe were washed away in a tidalwave of blaring top 40. It amazed me that the other people in his apartment complex had not banded together and stormed the ramparts. There was no way this could be tolerable to anyone who lived next to him.

Since my polite kocking obviously wasn’t going to carry the day, I went to plan B.

Plan B consisted of sucking a large amount of air into my lungs and yelling “HEEEEYYYY!!!” so loud my throat hurt. This had the unexpected consequence of scaring the crap out of his wife/girlfriend who happened to be hidden just out of sight, probably trying to stem the blood flowing out of her ears with q-tips.

The wife/girlfriend’s scream, brought Captain Stereo running out of the bedroom. He was bigger than me and he looked PISSED. For a moment I thought I was going to get my ass kicked to the vulgar strains of “Genie in a Bottle”.

CS: “Why are you screaming into my house??”

ME: “I tried to knock!” <rapping the doorframe to show no civilized form of polite summoning could possibly survive the unholy sound inferno pouring out of his house>

CS: What do you want?

ME: Could you turn your stereo down?! Its rattling crap in my apartment 200 feet from here…
The conversation ended with him turning down his stereo and telling me “I didn’t need to have called the cops on him.” I explained I hadn’t. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that someone did though. This wasn’t loud music for the sake of recreation. This was loud music sheerly for the sake of showing how loud his stereo could be. The sound levels in that house were almost inhuman. It also surprised me that a visit from the authorities failed to convince him he should really find another hobby.
The next day, he was at it again. And the next. And the day after that.

I called my landlord so he could call the other landlord. He informed me that all the guys neighbors were all complaining.

A few days after that, Captain Stereo was evicted.

Whatever happened to those bone conduction radios that were pitched for skiers? All the pleasure of loud music, without annoying your neighbors or blowing out your ciliae?

Genius!

I feel your pain.

A few years ago, I had an upstairs neighbor who worked the night shift. He liked to come home and take a load off after work, which in his mind consisted of blasting loud, profane rap, of the “bitches and hos” variety, at 2:30 in the morning. Invariably this would be the night before I’d taken a day off work to finish my thesis revisions. Now I can’t ever stand that stuff, but certainly not at 2:30 a.m.

The first few times I knocked on the door in my bathrobe, hair standing on end, he apologized and turned down the music. But he kept doing it, and got increasingly more belligerent. I tried banging on the ceiling with a broom, but that was about as useful. Finally I went up there and told him if he didn’t knock it off, I was going to call the police (a prospect that didn’t thrill me, because well, this guy was built like a linebacker and would certainly know that I was the one who had done it). He actually had the chutzpah to tell me that he had a right to relax after work, and that I could basically fuck off with my headphone suggestion.

Did I mention that he was also rather hard of hearing? I was talking with a friend of his in the lobby one day, and his friend even mentioned that he thought the music was too loud and asked whether I’d noticed that the guy was a bit hard of hearing.

One day, I woke up and saw him and his friends loading his things into a moving truck. And there was much rejoicing. Shortly thereafter, I finally defended my thesis. :slight_smile:

OK, I admit that I might have overreacted a bit. You’re right, it was just one incident, and I guess the true boneheads are the ones who keep doing this kind of crap, even after having been told where to stuff it. It just seemed like such an absolutely mind-numbingly stupid thing to do. I still wonder what the heck the guy could have been thinking.

You know, the thing that really bothers me about this kind of thing isn’t primarily that people play loud music, but that the music they play is also invariably utter crap. If you absolutely have to make noise, why not at least play something that actually has a smidgeon of artistic value, instead of stuff designed only to inflict the greatest possible amount of pain? Or is that actually the entire point?

It’s one of life’s mysteries.

Actually, it might be that people who listen to good music tend to recognize that the best condition for appreciating it is probably not so loud that you can’t hear it properly.

You know, I used to think this way. Then I turned 13.

I was totally with you on the volume thing; playing music loudly in a quiet residential place is a blatant disregard and should be taken care of. But now you’re bitching about the quality of the music they’re playing? How 'bout not making everything about you and just accepting the fact that what is good music to you might not be good to someone else, and vice versa? I’m sure they’re not deliberately choosing music that is designed to be disruptive; they’re choosing the music they like to listen to, which may or may not lie within your tastes.

Again, I agree on the volume issue, but this post makes you sound really snobbish.

And on preview, this goes to you too, Excalibre.

Yes, yes, I’ve heard it before. All taste is entirely arbitrary. It is completely unreasonable to imply that any piece of art could possibly be any better than any other. All things are equal. To say otherwise - even in jest, as it appears PeakBanana was - makes you an elitist.

I’ve got the Henry guy. Although it’s now apparently turned into the Henry crew. I live in an apartment complex on a residential suburban street, and my living room windows overlook a small parking lot between my building and the next one over. Apparently a gentleman named Henry lives in one of the apartments in the next building over, and Henry, it seems, does not have a phone. I conclude this from the fact that when Henry has visitors the standard procedure seems to be for them to pull into the parking lot, exit their their vehicles, and stand in the lot shouting “HENRY!!!” at the tops of their lungs. It can take a while for them to get his attention. And Henry’s visitors come around a lot. Usually at least twice a day, around midmorning and again sometime in the 11 pm-ish area. When I’m having a good day, I snort at this. When I’m having a bad day, it makes me batshit crazy. Now that the warm weather is here, I’m hoping Henry will be running his air conditioner a lot and his friends will be forced to devise some other method of communication.

What? You’re seriously telling me that it’s not possible to say to that Beethoven is better than Britney Spears, without being an elitist? And you’re able to say that without cracking up? Well, fine, I’ll be an elitist, then.

Once you figure out his sleeping schedule, I recommend “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana. Alternately, the “Dies Irae” from Verdi’s Requiem is another fine choice. Extra bass. :cool:

Anyway, I only came here to rant. I thought arguments was in room 12 A, next door.

I suspect that there was a bit o’irony in Ex’s post. Twinle Twinkle Little Star is every bit as good as the Goldberg Variations, however.

Oh, sorry, by the way - my vitriol was of course directed at DooWahDiddy. I didn’t notice that Excalibre was being ironic. :smack:

Yeah, I’ll just go over here and write “I will read the thread properly before posting” 100 times on the blackboard.