There is a new most unpleasant, habitual entertainment that I did not sign up for when I moved. I experienced just a bit of it before when I commented about the late-night warblings of drunken skunks in the bar below me. Hey, that’s what makes the rent cheap. On a normal day, the alcoholics keep it down to a low roar. That’s cool. It is sort of a respectful way of saying, “Hey, it’s the weekday and we all gotta live here.” Cohabitation is what makes the world go ’round. But I know that utopic bliss doesn’t go far when you live in New Jersey. And I also know that it’s a pub and some drunken escapades are warranted. It’s like going to a concert. You sort of subscribe to the fact that some people will be foolish and over-indulge. Same here. I got it. TRUST ME.
The Rolling Stones (
is) used to be my favorite band:
Apparently, the alcoholics enjoy the beautiful melody, “Angie”. A lot. Try over and over at various intervals. Ad nauseum. Then, add the vocal stylings of some random drunken alley cat and now you understand the horror, the horror!!! There is a sunny side, though. If you get tired of the guy who’s belting out “Angie”, there’s always the more sedate mumbling ballad, “Yellow” by Coldplay. Hell, they’ll even play the whole CD for you for free! Yippee! Yeah, nothing like listening to the smoothe sound of Coldplay at three-in-the-morn! What I’m surprised not to hear is more Bon Jovi, Billy Joel, and Bruuuuuucccceee!!!!!!!! I guess they wore the heck out of the jukebox CD. Boo and/or hiss.