Sad to say that the reason I’m back to posting on the blog is not because of awesome new animation projects or progress on the comic book. No, I’m here to rant. It’s what I’m good at these days. My neighborhood is a cesspool of shitty renters. Each time a new group moves in, they lower the bar even further. These pricks, for instance…
They’ve been here a while, but each week seems to bring yet another shitty old car, truck, or speed boat. It’s gotten to the point where the guy needs to park his excess vehicles in the lot of the abandoned house next door. It’s not really a problem for me, except these pricks are always working on the cars and trucks and apparently all their buddies’ cars and trucks. They idle these things for hours. The low rumbling mufflerless 8 cylinder engines spewing out black smoke, that inevitably wafts over to my house to fill it with greenhouse gases, and rattle my windows like a bass dum. But I digress.
The thing that has me here fat thumbing the iPhone, is that the motherfucker that lives there recently tricked out his WRX with some fat pipes, or whatever it is that the small dicked meatheads call them. Again, not real a problem, but the guy clearly has a shitty blue collar job that requires him to get up at the crack of dawn. Every morning, around 6:45, he starts that piece of shit up. He idles it for about 45 minutes, presumably because he thinks he’s living in the 70s and his car needs to warm up before he tears off to his shitty service industry job. Every morning for the last month. It’s that low bass rumble that wakes me up, gets the dog pacing, and sets me on a hate spiral that keeps me from getting back to sleep. Sometimes I wish I was more mentally unstable, so I would have no qualms about taking a tire iron to his precious WRX. Instead I quietly seethe and secretly hope a Cessna crashes into his house.
This is how the world ends. Not with a bang, but a long low rumbling instance if inconsiderate assholery.