Filed under: crummy letters
Hi, neighbor. You may recall that the last time I ranted in your direction, it was about the number, frequency, timing, and volume of the fireworks you were shooting off. I now come on bended knee, begging you to bring the fireworks back out of retirement.
But only, of course, if you point them directly at the enormous holiday–themed inflatable thingies that you insist on sticking in your front lawn. Please. Let’s light off a whole ream of bottle rockets right into the center of each and every one of them.
Don’t get me wrong: I love a good holiday. I’ve got a great costume planned for Halloween. I do not, however, feel the need to stick a 25-foot tall inflatable Frankenstein in my front lawn to celebrate the occasion. Have you ever tried to sleep in the shadow of a 25-foot Frankenstein? What am I saying: Of course you have, he’s in your yard. Here’s a better question: HOW THE HELL CAN YOU POSSIBLY GET ANY SLEEP IN THE SHADOW OF A 25-FOOT FRANKENSTEIN?!?
I’m sitting here leafing through my neighborhood by-laws. You realize that I can’t have a permanent basketball hoop attached to my garage because of “aesthetic reasons”? Yet these same bylaws allow you to employ a constant rotation of monstrous vinyl creations filled with more hot air than Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter combined?!? I might not feel the need for this letter if the madness were to end at Frankenstein. But no: he’ll quickly be followed up by a huge inflatable Turkey (or Pilgrim), then a gigantic Santa Claus (or Frosty the Snowman), then Cupid, then an Easter Bunny, then….heck, I don’t know…Queen Victoria or some such insanity. Somehow all that’s OK, but if I wanted to play one-on-one in my driveway I’m committing a violation?!?!
You might have noticed that my other neighbor’s house is up for sale. I saw a car full of real estate agents drive past yesterday pointing and laughing at the poor guy’s place while snapping pictures of Frankenstein. The driver nearly veered off the road, and I’m pretty sure the woman who was riding shotgun wet herself from laughing so hard. Your vinyl fetish has single-handedly demolished the entire real estate market in a 5-block radius. Somehow fresh coats of paint, new laminate hardwood flooring and stainless steel appliances are no matches for a glowing, undead zombie hovering menacingly above the neighborhood. Go figure.
Look, celebrate whatever holidays you want as enthusiastically as you want. Put up lights and banners and flags and streamers and give out candy and put out a landing strip for Santa and host an Easter Egg hunt and plant a tree on Arbor Day…whatever, that’s fine!! But certainly even you can see that something the size of the Goodyear Blimp just might encroach on the goodwill of the neighborhood (not to mention common sense) (and good taste).
If you don’t agree with me, might I suggest something? Perhaps you can put ALL of your hot air inflatables out at the same time, just to really tick me off. Make sure you tie one to each corner. Then tie a couple to your roof, just for good measure. That’ll show me.
Meanwhile I’ll be over here, praying for a stiff wind and some good luck.
PS: Humor-blogs.com wanted to point out that the inflatable you have to celebrate Labor Day is very inappropriate. It’s about workforce labor, not child birth.
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