One of the things I like to do when I'm not busy running O'Leary Air is play drums.
And as I'm sure you know, drums tend to be a little loud.
Now that's a 26 inch Ludwig bass I'm sitting in front of (and in this case gentleman size matters ), so it tends to be very loud. And occaisionally a neighbor will be bothered by the sound and experience an uncontrollable urge to tell me so.
That's one of my former neighbors, Cathy McCunty pictured above. McCunty was new to the neighborhood and was either stupid or unaware of how potentially dangerous I am, so she got pissy with me about my playing. "Do you have to play those things so damn loud" she said. "It's driving me crazy." And I responded wirh "Drums don't come with a volume knob. They're built to project sound, they're just fulfilling their destiny." And then she made the fatal mistake of saying "I know a guy who plays drums and he uses muffles to dampen the sound. Why don't you just muffle those damn things." And I looked her straight in the eye and said this "Feck off McCunty."
It was clear to me then that McCunty didn't know the meaning of the word loud, and I felt it was time to teach it to her.
So the next day when I sat down to practice, I miked my drums and ran 'em through an amp. After about an hour, I realized I was out of vodka, so I put down my sticks and went downstairs. And this is when I heard the pounding on the door. "It's probably McCunty" I thought. So I opened the door ready to lay into her.....
McCunty had called the coppers. "We've had a noise complaint Miss, you need to tell your boyfriend to stop playing those drums" My first instinct was to slap him, but I restrained myself. Fortunately I was drunk, so I knew exactly how to handle this little situation. You see, some men find the idea of a chick drummer hot, and knowing this, I flirted with him. Well it worked. He went away telling me how sorry he was that I had to live next door to such a horrid woman and promised never to respond to one of her calls again.
You would think McCunty would have learned her lesson, she didn't. She continued to harrass me when she saw me out in the yard. "It's just repetitive noise," she said. "And if any of it goes to a song, I can't imagine what that song would be." Clearly it was time to teach McCunty another lesson.
It was time to let McCunty know what some of the rhythms I was playing went with. And most people know Beatles songs, so I'd thought I'd play a few of those for her. So I set up my mike again and sang along with my thrash metal version of Norwegian Woods. "I once had a girl or should I say, she once had me," I screamed off-key into the mike. Next I launched into Helter Skelter and finished with Twist and Shout. McCunty moved a short time after that.
Now I've already got the neighborhood I'm living in beaten into submission, but I've got new people moving in next door. So I'm working on a metal arragement of We Can Work It Out. I hope they like it.
All original photographs have my signature embedded and are source located to my camera. Copy, crop paste and I'll move into your neighborhood.