Thursday, July 18, 2013
Thanks, Neighbor!
There used to be a column in my hometown paper called "Thanks, Neighbor!" Actually, maybe there still is; I don't read the Quincy Herald-Whig much any more as I have little need for news on hog future prices and the politics of the Elks lodge. Frankly, the fact that there still is such a thing as a hometown paper in Quincy is impressive enough. What with the internet and all. It's a series of tubes is really what it is.
Anyway, I always enjoyed this column because although it was ostensibly a way for people to write in and say nice things about the nice things their neighbors did for them because they are nice, it invariably trended towards passive aggressive bitching. People thanking their neighbors for "finally" cleaning up their yards or "agreeing to keep the noise down since I have small children." Such is human nature, I suppose.
And now I have some neighbors I'd like to "thanks," but I'm pretty sure the Chicago Tribune doesn't offer that as an option. After months of relative quiet (read: the music could still be heard every night, but the whole building wasn't shaking), the downstairs neighbors are at it again. Throbbing bass all the time. And the new roommate down there apparently likes country. Have you ever heard Kenny Chesney at full volume with the bass up? Because I'm pretty sure the prisoners at Guantanamo have.
There's also the issue of them leaving the building's front door open constantly. Along with their own front door. Out of which a haze of marijuana smoke is leaking. As though "we take no security measures and have drugs on hand" is the message we want to be sending to the world.
Oh, and the general douchiness. Like wearing swimsuits instead of shorts and setting off firecrackers on the roof. And leaving empty Old Style Light cans in the hallways. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that "thanks" will even cover it.
There used to be a column in my hometown paper called "Thanks, Neighbor!" Actually, maybe there still is; I don't read the Quincy Herald-Whig much any more as I have little need for news on hog future prices and the politics of the Elks lodge. Frankly, the fact that there still is such a thing as a hometown paper in Quincy is impressive enough. What with the internet and all. It's a series of tubes is really what it is.
Anyway, I always enjoyed this column because although it was ostensibly a way for people to write in and say nice things about the nice things their neighbors did for them because they are nice, it invariably trended towards passive aggressive bitching. People thanking their neighbors for "finally" cleaning up their yards or "agreeing to keep the noise down since I have small children." Such is human nature, I suppose.
And now I have some neighbors I'd like to "thanks," but I'm pretty sure the Chicago Tribune doesn't offer that as an option. After months of relative quiet (read: the music could still be heard every night, but the whole building wasn't shaking), the downstairs neighbors are at it again. Throbbing bass all the time. And the new roommate down there apparently likes country. Have you ever heard Kenny Chesney at full volume with the bass up? Because I'm pretty sure the prisoners at Guantanamo have.
There's also the issue of them leaving the building's front door open constantly. Along with their own front door. Out of which a haze of marijuana smoke is leaking. As though "we take no security measures and have drugs on hand" is the message we want to be sending to the world.
Oh, and the general douchiness. Like wearing swimsuits instead of shorts and setting off firecrackers on the roof. And leaving empty Old Style Light cans in the hallways. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that "thanks" will even cover it.
