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Saturday morning's delightful dawn was luxurious - a genteel awakening from a cool, peaceful, quiet night to the pleasant, temperate breezes of an unseasonably mild Central Valley summer. This semi-rural feeling is
exactly why I bought this house on this property.
But the rose comes with three poisonous, inescapeable thorns, with Yellow delivering the biggest prick.
All pleasantries instantly evaporate when my pot-smoking neighbor, Mellow Yellow, turns on her outdoor radio at seven a.m. This deliberate, daily, all-day, imposition of her twisted, debilitating self on me has continued for fourteen months, since June 2009, after the noise nuisance lawsuit was served on her. (But why, Lynda, would anyone want to assert such a miserable existence as yours?)
A new victim presented himself around 9 o'clock. A big, black pickup truck parked in front of my house, with a flatbed trailer attached, hauling a large John Deere tractor and a disc attachment. The driver, who turned out to be a city contractor for weed abatement, barely had the tractor dismounted before he was targeted and subjected to a lengthy diatribe by the intractable mouth next door.
In the space of about three minutes, she had unloaded her [severely stunted] life history on this total stranger, telling him
at least three lies in the process:
- #1 - "I'm a good neighbor." This from a woman who on an earlier occasion publicly allowed, "You know, I go to bed by seven, leave the yard by four. I mean, I'm not even much of a neighbor. I mean, we don't even see each other." Her public statement is truly a disingenious understatement; but I concur - she really isn't much of a neighbor. The reality is, she is the worst neighbor I have ever had the misfortune of living next to.
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- #2 - "I wanna be a good neighbor." This from a woman who has steadfastly resisted any good faith, voluntary effort to quiet the noise from her business; and later refused to stop her illegal business operation when presented with the evidence; and later rejected offers to settle the lawsuit, preferring instead to drag it on indefinitely. These are not the actions of a good neighbor - and she has not a scintilla* of intention to become one.
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- #3 - "That's $2,000 of my rocks over there [waving toward the driveway across the street]". This from a woman who, only last December, demanded payment of $3,000 for rocks she had dumped there in order to park Guts[y] Green's trailer. (Gee, a $1,000 decline in value in only eight months! What other Dunning-Kruger overestimations exist only in Lynda's mind?) Because power of attorney for the aged proprietress across the street is held by an adult daughter, Lynda was told to pound sand. I concur.
Every time Mellow Yellow opens her mouth, she loses more of what few rocks are left in her head. Her expertise in pressing her woes on every total stranger who accidentally intersects her miniscule orbit has to do with her self-view. This is illustrated by her own actions (
one year ago) and described by this
treatise on victimology:
"The victim stance is a powerful one. The victim is always morally right, neither responsible nor accountable, and forever entitled to sympathy. In claiming the status of victim and by assigning all blame to others, a person can achieve moral superiority while simultaneously disowning any responsibility for one's behavior and its outcome. The victims 'merely' seek justice and fairness."
Throwing diesel fuel on her internal conflagration of "Po' little ol' [victim] me" was the fact that the stranger had a BIG John Deere tractor - much, much bigger than her
L-130 Automatic John Deere Riding Mower. Just how big I do not know, but to this marijuana-addled woman it must have looked like a Model 9400!
Compared to this guy's potent Green & Yellow machine, Lynda's already inadequate and impotent equipment must have seemed to her the size of this post's lead picture.
At noon, I must have infuriated the Supreme Generalissimo of the Sovereign 810 Fishback Annexation Island ("the Cuntry") of Southwestern Manteca, who has an obsessive compulsion to interject her self-loathing self into every thought and minute of everyone else's day. The following episode also underscores my position that anyone who possesses a medical marijuana card should be required to surrender their Driver License - it's one or the other, not both. Indeed, from the California Safety and Health Code:
Section 11362.5. (a) This section shall be known and may be cited as the Compaaaaassionate Use Act of 1996... (b)(2) Nothing in this section shall be construed to supersede legislation prohibiting persons from engaging in conduct that endangers others... [such as DUI, or driving under the influence?]
Just a little after noon, I stood at the end of my driveway talking with the contractor for a few minutes, while his wife took a turn discing down the weeds. The Yellow Generalissimo and her
domestic dominated domesticated partner, Ravaged Red, pulled out of their driveway in the Sebring and drove to the mailboxes on the wrong side of the road. In order to make a T-turn (why?), the cannabis-laden driver (who would rather run over me as look at me), nosed the car into my driveway and pulled right alongside us, while the red-headed passenger, sitting by the open window, attempted to act nonchalant by "fiddling" with something in her lap during the maneuver. (Perhaps even the jaded Red was nonplussed by her Top's effrontery**!) Having unmistakeably stamped her presence on the moment, the druggie/driver took off southward. Truth be known, not once in the conversation did either Kent or I mention the mousy idiot from next door.
Maybe the pothead should powder some little blue pills and mix it into her stash. Maybe then, in her smoke-induced dreams, her tiny John Deere could get bigger - and longer - and harder - with more staying power - and provide a more intense and pleasurable experience. (But remember, in the event the heightened state lasts for more than four hours, permanent injury could occur [if it hasn't already].)
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* scin·til·la (n) [Latin, spark] a minute amount; an iota or trace; a spark; a flash; iota, shred, smidge, smidgen, smidgeon, smidgin, tittle, whit; small indefinite amount; small indefinite quantity - an indefinite quantity that is below average size or magnitude.
** effrontery (n) presumption; unashamed boldness; insolence; audacious (even arrogant) behavior where no right exists; rudeness (also called impudence); the disrespect and failure to behave within the context of social laws or etiquette; the arrogant breaching of essential boundaries or accepted behavior.
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