mini-rant-ette

I don't get rap. Yep, I am flaunting my old-fart-itude. I am sitting here trying to finish my (deathless prose) please-admit-me letter, and the man who lives next door to my upstairs neighbor is blasting his rap music. It's not like the "music" is coming from a car directly outside my window, facing my direction. Nope, he's a whole apartment away on another floor, blasting the music away from my windows, and it's still loud enough that I can't just listen to my own music instead. I know, the preceding sentences make the assumption that there is a corollary between "rap" and "loud" but as far as I can tell, there is. And it's all frantic, as far as I can tell. No room for quiet reflection there.

I really feel sorry for the poor man who lives downstairs from the rap-player. I don't know what else goes on, but my neighbor (who is Guatemalan) called the police the other night, hoping they could throw the guy out. Guess he's not up on laws around here just yet. The cop was very polite in explaining to him how to go to the magistrate to make a complaint.

For once, I'm glad when the AC unit comes on next door-- it drowns out the racket.