It may sound extreme, but I believe some people SHOULD die violent, ugly deaths, and, if possible, should then be temporarily resurrected so they can to die the same way again, if possible over and over again, like they were living out their own malevolent Groundhog Day movie. These people include the folks next door to us

here at the Allegro Campground, who, for some reason, choose to have the strangest party almost every night outside their coach door, which, since they are parked on our driver’s side, means that they are partying right underneath our living room window. Since motor homes all have the sound insulating qualities of a single thickness of spider webs, it’s as if we are attending a virtual party every night. Which would not be a problem except for, as I said, the strangeness of it all…their parties are attended by all those around here who they have previously met on other factory visits and who only exist to share, at top voice, the stories of their lives. The noise level, which goes on until the outrageous time (by geezer standards) of 10:30 PM and once….hard to believe I know…even until 11:00 and is about equivalent to their repeatedly throwing a bowling ball at our coach. They seem to take turns at this, none listening to the other, often two or more sharing (or bowling) at the same time. What they get out of this I don’t know, but what I get out of this can be similar to the following, shared just last night by Walter over a period of not more than a minute and a half, I’m sure. (I’m sure because I tend to get migraines if I force myself to listen to unasked-for, unimaginably boring drivel  for more than 90 seconds, and in this case I didn’t….):

Walter (talking at top decibles to overcome the other sharers who are simultaneously telling all about THEIR admittedly fascinating lives):

1.                  Is from somewhere 200 miles West of Albuquerque, NM, where

2.                  It rained 14 inches the other day when they were there, which

3.                  Caused his front slides to leak again, but

4.                  They’ve leaked since he got the coach in 1999, plus

5.                  He’s glad he left Los Angeles. anyway, since

6.                  Los Angeles was the worst foreclosure market in the world, because

7.                  ACORN really gave too many mortgages to people who couldn’t afford ‘em, (yeah, I know, but that’s what Walter said…NOT me….), and anyway

8.                  He has a cousin in Wichita, Ks. who owns a fish market and who

9.                  Would let people take fish right from the counter and leave notes saying they owed him, and

10.              they called him Brown because (could I even be making this up?) his last name was

11.             Smith, and the Smiths all got rich and famous and

12.             Bought a big ranch up by Cotton Valley, and then the government came and

13.             Bought part of from him for a million, and Walter never

14.             Saw that kind of money “slapping” pigs (said to great personal hilarity, with him then explaining it’s SLOPPING pigs, not that anyone other than me heard him or could have guessed for themselves) but

15.             His other 10 brothers and sisters had chores, too, except

16.             His oldest brother who had allergies, and

17.             They had 16 milk cows but he didn’t have to milk them, or

18.             Feed the horses either, but when they sent the pigs out to market, he would wave and say “goodbye, pigs, I don’t have to feed YOU any more,” at least until

19.             The next batch of pigs was born and ready to “slap”, as

20.             They always tried to have 125 pigs getting’ ready for market at the same time, and so on.

There was more, but you get the point.

Is this kind of behavior worth the violent and painful death(s) I advocate above? Others would say not, including my sweet Irene, who has the tolerance of a saint, and says, strangely enough, that I can still be (even 25 years after I last had a drink) quite loud myself. She says I should have tolerance. I say that I do have tolerance, and would be more than happy to sponsor a designated “strange party” zone where the geezers in these parks can go to share. These rooms already have a good model in airport smoking rooms, which nicely contain smoke, hot air and noise, meaning they could do a similar good job here, I’m sure, and would be much cheaper than installing a large, soundproof booth, shades of the old TV show $64,000 Question” with its’ Cone of Silence, and better, too, because the booth I have in mind would have places to sit, being all heart as I am.

In an aside, Irene adds that, while I’m entitled to this as an opinion, I do NOT get to cut another sandstone identifying marker to put out in front of our coach. Our existing simply says “A.J. and Irene” on one line and “Flyfishing America” on the second, with a pretty scene of a forest and a trout jumping on a line shadowed into the background. The new one, which I think would be a great match, would say something like “You Think Your Story is Interesting?” on one line, and “We Don’t!” on the second. Optionally, it would have a third tag line underneath, saying in a much smaller font, “(so shut up!)”.

This, of course, doesn’t mean I’m out here advocating Jihad against EVERYONE who annoys me. Other people should never die, even though they have tried my patience as God tried Job’s…they’re the good ones. This may include you, dear reader, depending on your comments….but first and foremost this certainly includes my buddy Mike, who I’m pretty sure never will die anyway, being both too ornery and too important to my own fragile sense of self, as I’ll discuss in my next post.