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Diary: Noise Pollution

11 May

Good morning.

Out in the park.  Naturally there is some kind of gas powered machine being used to loudly mow down brush. Every fucking day with this shit.  God fucking forbid they do it between the hours of nine and five on a weekday, when every productive member of society is somewhere else.  No, they MUST do it at 8AM, in my approximately 40 minutes of time to myself.

And if it’s not the city clearing brush that will force coyotes, rattlesnakes and scorpions into people’s yards to mangle their pets, it’s a guy working out of his home wood shop and running a whining, keening lathe that he hasn’t adequately lubed for his woodworking project, which, fine, good– it’s cool that he’s into woodworking.  That sounds like a fun rewarding hobby where you actually get tangible fruits for your labors, and must be a balm for the soul in this era of work for nothing.  Work to avoid getting yelled at.

But still. This guy is retired.  Between nine and five on a weekday he is jerking off and reading woodworking magazines, and then Saturday 8AM rolls around and it’s time to fire up rickety screechy lathes, routers, sanders and jigsaws.  It’s time to make a thousand foot radius around his garage sound like a pack of dinosaurs were undergoing sexual torture. Continue reading