Although this is a bit off the beaten path for my blogging, I have to admit that this is a topic that has struck a nerve with me and therefore, at the risk of offending, even losing a few of my beloved readers, I feel strongly enough about it that I'm going to voice my opinion. Take it or leave it, for better or worse and all that good stuff.
Politics and Religion, two topics that I know better than to even mess with. As they say, "Don't EVEN go there!" But, despite my better judgement, I'm goin' there.
A situation has come up recently regarding some unneighborly neighbors and their terrorizing of the neighborhood and the decent citizens that live within this neighborhood. Long story short, it's a household containing one worthless, grouchy ol' (in his 70s?) drunk, one 1960's psycho ex Flower Power hippie reject artist (his wife) and four sons of various degrees of drug/alcohol rehab and incarciration. Not exactly the typical Leave It To Beaver household.
No doubt many of you can relate to this group of misfits. Lots of these Walton families exist in every community throughout our wonderful nation. And each stands out more to their victims living close by than to those who never actually get to experience the pleasure of coming in contact with them.
Dealing first hand with this group of losers is always a gamble. You never know if the soft and friendly approach is best or not. While this will work in most everyday interactions with people that have an ounce of decency and any sort of semblance of respect for their neighbors, for others it may not. These are people that all want to live in harmony with their surroundings and the people that make up their neighborhood.
Then there are the others, the worthless idiots that couldn't care less about how what they do effects anyone or anything else around them. Yeah, real winners. I should say losers. That seems to be more appropriate. People that have nothing better to do than to make everyone elses life miserable. If they're gonna be miserable, might as well take everybody else down with 'em.
I hate to judge people based on what others have said about them. Not knowing the history of the previous encounters that lead them to their perceptions, I never like to pass judgement on someone based on another persons interactions. Like they say, there are two sides to every story.
While I must admit, the laundry list of evidence against this family has been longer than the list of incriminating evidence against O.J. but if you recall, he was found not guilty. And so I had to approach the situation with an open mind. I mean c'mon, can a family really be THIS bad? Apparently so.
Now while I myself had never had a previous run-in of any sort with these people, I guess that's mainly because I just wasn't around the situation enough to ever have to deal with it or them. I've been lucky enough to have a friend let me stay in his Cabin near the lake in exchange for some home and yard maintenance and so far, I've been up here about five weeks. Sweet deal to say the least. No doubt I'll end up with a blog post or two about my summer at the Lake.
As far as my opinion of the Hatfields (or is it the McCoys?) is concerned, everything changed for me yesterday and now I'm a convert, a true believer in what the others have said about him and his family. I found out for myself that this guy, the Leader of the pack, is a complete piece of shit!
Yep, them's strong words I know but in this case, not nearly strong enough. Every time I see him walk by with his Pit Bulls (nothing against Pit Bulls, I think they can be great dogs in the care of responsible pet owners, which these people clearly aren't. They continually let their dogs roam unleashed throughout the neighborhood, free to terrorize and poop wherever they please) I expect to hear a couple of banjos start to play (think Deliverance) and I immediately begin to hear Ned Beatty scream somewhere off in the distance.
This guy is the epitomy of one of those guys that lives wayyyyy back in the swamp, livin' off the land, zero education, a product of incest. Yikes, now I'm even scaring myself!
Supposedly he used to work for the Studios in Hollywood and his wife was an artist but right about now, I'm having a hard time believing any of that. I'm choosing to go with the 'Swamp Thing' scenario and as far as I'm concerned, he's havin' (or had) sexual relations with his sister.
My friends (the owners of the Cabin) and a few other friends from around the neighborhood were relaxing on the front porch the night of July 4th, telling stories and just generally BS'n' about all the fun we had enjoying the fireworks display that had just taken place. Watching all of the colors reflecting off the water, what seemed like a thousand boats floating out in the middle of this sea of colors, truly an amazing spectacle (more in another post).
Ok, I know sitting on the front porch, talkin' BS sounds a bit Hillbilly~ish as well but up here, the stars are so close you can almost reach up and touch 'em. It's so wonderful just to sit outside and star gaze. That is, of course, unless an idiot neighbor has his flood lights on. And so the real story begins.
Doing our best to enjoy the evening, we were relentlessly confronted by this glaring light and with the houses all built on different levels, this one particular light is right at eye level. No shroud around it, just a light that looks like it was bolted way up in a tree to shine down on his parking area. No problem or so you'd think.
Well, when you have an unshrouded light that casts shadows 300 yards away, THAT'S a problem! At least for everyone within 300 yards of it! There's a reason that they don't have overhead street lights up here, same as in the desert. It's to preserve the night sky. That's why people leave the city in an effort to see an eclipse or even just to enjoy the stars. When you live in a world full of light pollution, all you can see is the next McDonalds sign down the street.
And so my buddy, that owns this Cabin, went down to his house to talk to him about the light and a miracle occured, the light went out. Oh, how we all cheered. Suddenly you weren't in the City, you were back up in the mountains, at the lake, enjoying the night sky.
Well, that lasted about a day and then the light was back on. He even leaves it on during the day. Why, who knows. Maybe that's how they roll in the swamp. Come to think about it, maybe that's why he leaves it on all the time, they don't actually have electricity in the swamp and he's still enthralled by the magic of it all.
So yesterday morning, as he was roamin' the dogs without a leash I asked him if we could come to some sort of a compromise that would benefit him and all his neighbors (that he's buggin' the shit out of). I told him I'd even buy the shroud for it or a whole new light if I had to. Anything to try and stop the paint from peeling off the front of everybodys cabins from his glaring onslaught.
He was more than fine with it, even going so far as to tell me that he had a ladder I could use if I needed to get access that far up in the tree. I told him no problem, I'm glad to do what I can to save the summer nights. I knew I'd be heading back down the hill in the next few days and I'd stop by Home Dump and pick one up. Right on, problem solved. Or so I thought anyway.
I went over there to check it out last evening to see how I was gonna tackle it. Would I need a shroud or an entirely new light? Let's take a look. After a couple minutes, I decided might as well get a whole new light rather than try to half ass something on there. That way everybody's happy.
As I stroll back across the street, here comes this drunk ass lunatic, waving his flashlight at me, yelling at the top of his lungs, "HEY YOU, HEY YOU!" he knows my name but must have forgotten it in his drunken rage. Then the cussing starts. "'F' YOU, 'F' THEM (as he points his flashlight at all the neighbors houses), 'F' ALL YOU PEOPLE, I'M NOT CHANGING THAT LIGHT! 'F' YOU!!!"
So I reminded him that I said I was gonna take care of it. He wouldn't have to dig a coffee can out of the ground in his backyard for any coins. The light would just magically appear and everybody would be happy. He wasn't havin' none of that. He just kept on ranting and raving, screaming at the top of his lungs.
At first I thought he was joking, since he was totally on board with it six hours earlier but once I realized just how plastered he was, screaming at the top of his lungs at 10 o'clock at night, it began to dawn on me that this guy is just out of his mind.
He's a mentally challenged (pickled brain) worthless old man and the best thing to do would be to bite my tongue. I did my best to contain my laughter but based on what a fool he was making of himself, I admit to letting out a couple chuckles. Hey, I tried.
You could tell he wanted to hit me but without his Pit Bull or his psychotic sons to back him up, he didn't dare take a chance. I just stood there and let him go off. Like they say, you can't argue with an idiot and so I let him go on until he ran out of hot air, agreeing with everything he said.
As he stumbled out of the yard and down the street, I just kept hoping he'd fall flat on his face on the asphalt but damn it, no such luck. I'm a firm believer in Karma so I know he'll get his sooner or later, I just hope it's sooner than later. In fact, I can hardly wait!
As I contemplated the evenings festivities, one question continually popped into my head. What made him change his mind, from one second being all for it and the next, totally against it? Then it finally dawned on me. Earlier that afternoon, while he was roamin' his dogs, he saw that my neighbor, who despises him, was on the front steps and her and I were talking.
Both her and her husband are the nicest people on earth, big time church goers and they love everybody. Everybody except him and his family. Apparently the Hatfield and McCoy Family Feud has been going on for quite some time between them and it doesn't appear it's gonna end anytime soon.
As he walked by, she mentioned that one of his dogs had chased a friend of hers and boy, was he shocked to hear that (Yeah, right). He mumbled something about how "He's never seen the dog do THAT before" and continued on his way.
I think it was at that point that his sick paranoid mind began to take over and he realized that it was all a conspiracy against him. Oooohhh, what could we have been planning? First, it's the obnoxious overhead light, then it's the obnoxious dogs, then what, the obnoxious color of his truck? OMG, when will it all stop?
As the one remaining bent, rusty and squeaky wheel continued to spin at a snails pace inside his brain, he obviously went into panic mode. All these people, they're all against me, they all hate me and I can't understand why!!! So he did the only thing he knew how to do, GET HAMMERED!
He lives in a constant state of fear, fear that he's created all by himself. That's the reason behind the overhead light. He's afraid that someone's going to break into his truck and try to steal something or better yet, steal the entire truck. And if he has a light on, he'll be able to stop 'em.
Too bad the jackass doesn't realize that the only people that are going to do that are his own kids and they'll just take his keys while he's passed out on the couch, if they need to make a late night drug run. The light only makes it easier for them to see what's in the baggie they just brought home.
To give you an example of just how sweet his kids are, the only semi coherent one (brain fried by drugs & alcohol) came by a few weeks ago to say he hoped that his brothers hadn't been breaking in to all the houses close by, including this one, only the ones farther away (perhaps that's why I haven't seen the other three lately, they're in jail) and this is coming from a guy that went to jail himself for threatening to kill his parents (too bad he didn't follow through, like everything else in his life).
He's so paranoid of the exact nightmare that he himself has created. He's brought that Los Angeles Theft / Drug Ring mentality up to the mountains with him, which in actuality is pretty accurate since his family perpetuates it.
All this brings up the question, how do you deal with a psycho neighbor from hell? Hmmmm, good question. A friend brought up the fact that he's a miserable person (got that) and he's taking his misery out on those that surround him. Therefore, we should pray that he gets better.
That's all fine and dandy but prayers seem to take an awful long time to come to fruition and so what do we do in the mean time, in the REAL world? How do we deal with someone that is a constant threat to everyone he comes in contact with? Forcing everyone to live in fear of retaliation from him and his sons, never knowing if your home, your car, even yourself will be damaged at the hands of these lunatics.
Calling the Sheriff obviously won't do any good. They are on everybodys speed dial and they're here so often that they might as well set up a Sub Station. Hey, come to think of it, there's already a light set up so they can conduct their night operations without any problems.
So what are we left with? Do we really have any alternatives other than to just continue to live our lives in fear of retaliation? I guess we can start off by praying, hoping that someday he'll see the light, realize what a nightmare he's creating for so many others around him and all of a sudden become a courteous and conscienceous neighbor. Yeah, I agree, doesn't sound too likely but I guess there's always hope.
Or we could go with Plan B, which is to wait until he steps one foot on the property and then at that point the only decision will be whether or not he gets a single or a double barrel dose of reality. The choice is his to make.
If you can relate to havin' some crappy neighbors, I always appreciate your feedback whether it's positive or negative and if you enjoyed this post, please feel free to share it with your friends, whether on Facebook or Twitter, anywhere you hang out.
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