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Thursday, August 27, 2015

The Best Part

I forgot to mention that my next door neighbors threw a giant party in their backyard last weekend. Featuring very loud Mariachi music. Until very early Sunday morning. I know this because I kept waking up every fifteen minutes or so to think "wow, I can't believe this is still going on," followed by "wow, I can't believe I somehow fell asleep with this really loud music," and then "get your ass back to sleep before you ruin it." I get pretty philosophical at three in the morning, obviously.

So of course we called the police, and of course no one came. I know that noise complaints aren't exactly at the top of the Crimestoppers list in a city with hundreds of murders each year, but I did sort of think an outdoor hootenanny (or the Spanish language equivalent) in the dead of night smack dab in the middle of the neighborhood with the most complainers per capita might draw some attention. Heck, in the era of Trump, I thought there might even be calls for deportation.

But no. Obama's America, people. The good folks of the world can't even watch a Murder, She Wrote marathon without being assaulted by a Spanish-language version of "Problem."

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