Showing posts with label radio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label radio. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Manteca Sleeper Cell Pretends Christian Piety

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Recitation of facts

For history on the sudden appearance of the yard radio immediately after the lawsuit for illegal land use was filed on Lyin' Lynda in May 2009, see [this post]. This is how L/L added spiteful noise to nuisance noise for daring to question her bona fides (which she ain't got!)

In April 2010, L/L was charged with P.C. 415(2), Disturbing the Peace, with her outdoor radio playing. See [this post] for the back story.

In July 2010 the outdoor radio was rolled into the civil lawsuit charging illegal land use (catering business on a residential lot) and creating nuisance noise, see [this post].

On a repeat Disturbing the Peace offense, L/L was arrested on January 16th. See [this post] for the story of the citizen's arrest (catch and release).

Commentary on Lyin' Lynda'a statements to police

Crime Report 2011-1362 narrates the events surrounding Lyin' Lynda's latest arrest. The gist of the report is that the officer understood her phony call for police service ninety minutes earlier, he plainly saw her manipulative actions on that first visit, and he experienced her utter predictability for making a patience-straining nuisance of herself, necessitating my second call of the morning.


Give the bitch credit for BIG BRASSEY BALLS because, even in this extremity, straight from the horse's ass mouth came these two supposed defenses:
"Allen stated she was listening to Christian music and used her outdoor speakers because she did not have indoor speakers."


Never at any time have I differentiated what kind of music or sports L/L has played on her infernal radio. The responding officer apparently agreed with that stance; a noise disruption is a noise disruption, the "flavor" of the disruption makes no difference. There is no infringement on one's God-given right to worship how, where, or what one may, provided there is no infringement on another's right to do the same - in this case, quietly and without someone else's choice of music or sports being forced upon him.

Did I mention before that I believe NOTHING that comes out of that horse's ass mouth. Like lawyers, if Lyin' Lynda's mouth is moving, she's lying. One reason I find her lack of speakers defense totally unbelievable is that during the summer and fall of 2010 L/L spent tens of thousands of dollars on a total home makeover, inside and out, including a giant Sony TV for her north-facing bedroom living room, yet "she did not have indoor speakers."

A second reason I do not believe her "no speakers" statement is the existence of at least two stereo speaker systems in her piles of yard junk on June 5, 2010. And who knows how many rock speakers she has lying around, as well?


Of course, NONE of the foregoing will make any impression on L/L's drug-sotted mind. The only thing the officer told her - or, the only thing that caught her slow-witted attention - was this:
"Allen was also informed of the Manteca Municipal Ordinance which states she may be billed for police services should we be called again for the music."



Ah, finally! The police are talking her language, which is...

Prayer, no. Parsimony, yes!
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Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Just How Stupid Is This Woman?

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    Tarp "sail" on left - January 26th
    Tarp "roof extension" on right - January 31st
The only thing Lyin' Lynda knows how to do perfectly is... how to do everything wrong. Putting up these tarps is a perfect measure of L/L's mental capacities. When she paid all of Resectioned Red's inheritance money to contractors, the results look pretty good. (Of course, it wasn't until after the expenditures that L/L cottoned to the fact she couldn't sell the property.) But the instant she puts her amateurish hand to something like this, what we see is White Trash Architecture at its finest.

Other earlier examples:

Plywood sound barriers?


Randomly spaced picket offsets



Award-winning repurposed fence boards

- - - - -


  • Lyin' Lynda had a noisy and illegal business operation on her property. Was she stupid enough to think I would not pursue her with civil complaints throughout 2008 and a lawsuit in May 2009?
  • Lyin' Lynda added to, then replaced, the business noise with yard radio nuisance noise. Was she stupid enough to think I would not pursue her with criminal charges in April 2010 and January 2011?
  • Lyin' Lynda pretends she is Sarah Winchester and keeps building more shit without permits. Is she stupid enough to think I will not follow up with administrative complaints?
  • Lyin' Lynda cannot read and she cannot count. (After all, she attended Pinole High School... just sayin’…) Why else would she be stupid enough to ignore the law and keep six dogs? Does she not know I will assist her to overcome her deficiencies? And her excesses?
  • Lyin' Lynda got an "owie" and took "medical retirement;" now she and her lovers gotta smoke "medical" marijuana just to make it through the long daylight hours. (Don't worry, they got each other to keep warm at night.) Was she stupid enough to think I would not ensure that her home-growing operation met city code, especially since it is right next to a high school? Is she still stupid enough to think I will not watch for illegal actions regarding her new venture?
  • Lyin' Lynda has since October 2010 harassed me with unwarranted video surveillance. Was she stupid enough to think I would not return her favors with my own counter-surveillance?

The depths of this depraved soul's double standard are manifest in her blocking my cameras’ views, but leaving her camera’s view unblocked. (Whatcha' got to hide, L/L?)

Does this stupid woman not know I will continue pursuing the objective of improving the world ridding her from my life.

What this stupid woman has never figured out in the four years I’ve been helping her can never figure out is that the fence line is where her intrusions must STOP! (Somehow, she views the fence as her jumping off point…?)

Illegal businesses and noise…
Outside radio…
Dogs, cats, chickens…
Building permit violations…
Marijuana smoke…
Surveillance…

If Lyin’ Lynda’s presence STOPPED at the fence line, we could live in peace.
As long as she continues intruding her presence, we live at war.


Ignorance, laziness, willfulness, and other human conditions can be controlled or improved, with varying degrees of success. But STUPID cannot be fixed – and DRUGGED STUPID is unalterable. As long as this stupid woman continues to contravene law, ignore city codes, harass her neighbors, and intrude her abjectly pathetic life onto others, I will continue to wear the title…

"Lyin' Lynda's... Warden?... Babysitter?... Neighbor From Hell?"

Ah, here's a simple test of the reader's knowledge of human nature: Two parties call each other the Neighbor From Hell. One of the parties vehemently denies the label and clamors unceasingly regarding innocence. The other party reluctantly accepts the label, knowing from the beginning that the badge would be pinned on him, yet must continue the fight despite the fiery darts of the adversary.


"That is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?"

(Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1)



That is the "Solomonic" question: Which one is the Neighbor From Hell?

I loosely paraphrase Ford Prefect in The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy,
If Lyin' Lynda doesn’t keep exercising her lips, her mouth would probably seize up. After a few months’ consideration and observation he abandoned this theory in favor of a new one. If she doesn’t keep on exercising her lips, her brain would start working. After a while he abandoned this one as well as being obstructively cynical.
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Friday, October 1, 2010

An Icemaker, the Bible, NsFH, and The Art of War

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"One who knows the enemy and knows himself will not be endangered in a hundred engagements."
. . .
"Subjugating the enemy's army without fighting is the true pinnacle of excellence. Thus the highest realization of warfare is to attack the enemy's plans; next is to attack their alliances; next to attack their army; and the lowest is to attack their fortified cities. This tactic of attacking fortified cicties is adopted only when unavoidable."
(The Art of War, by Sun-tzu, Part 3, Planning Offensives; new translation by Ralph D. Sawyer, Fall River Press, 1994)
. . .

(September 22, 2010)

My first approach to the Barefoot Dirty Girls in early 2008 was almost a suicide mission, as I was blinded-sided by their strategic misinformation ("grandfathered" lie), tactical orders (Cantu letter), and physical barricades (fences, dogs, lights, illegal structures, etc.) In asking nicely for moving the icemaker, or moderating its hours of operation, I was merely trying to follow the scriptural directive found in the Bible for conflict resolution.
Matthew 18: 21-22 Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.
Forgiving seventy times seven sleepless nights finally exceeded my patience.
Matthew 18:15: Moreover if thy brother shall trespass against thee, go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone: if he shall hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother.
I tried that and Lynda S Allen flat-out refused to accommodate. Looking back in the light of the quote from The Art of War, my requests were viewed by the BDGs as an attack on their fortified compound and, in my unprepared state, I was easily repulsed and very nearly extinguished on this initial engagement. In their view, the biblical soft approach (also known as diplomacy*, as described in the NsFH book, Neighbors From Hell) was a sign of indecisive weakness.

At the time and looking back in the light of Matthew 18:15, my duty to my neighbors was fulfilled and their responses - and the attendant consequences - were now entirely on their account, not mine.

And, if Lynda hears thee not? Am I S.O.L. and must leave vengeance to God? Hardly! I sued for relief before the city council - and was summarily denied.

I then sued her ass in Superior Court! Only then did Lynda come over and offer to "move the icemaker."

My response: Sorry... you're waaaay too late, sistah. You and the City of Manteca put me through hell and forced me to do the research. I've now got the proof of your "legally grandfathered" LIE. You had your chance. Merely moving the icemaker is no longer a sufficient action. The required action now consists of entirely removing the illegal business operation from the property, either through relocation or business closure. See you in court.

Thereafter, my campaign became more careful and considered. I now attacked Lynda's "armies," her "alliances," and especially her "plans." While moving the lawsuit forward through discovery, her illegal business operation was scrutinized and the grandfather claim exposed as fraud by affidavit. Her documentation of legality - nonexistent. Her juvenile retaliation against the lawsuit with the yard radio nuisance was documented and charged as criminal. Her entrenched pattern of city ordinance lawbreaking, spanning decades, surfaced in regards to the illegal mobile home, a travel trailer, unpermitted construction, abandoned vehicles, excess animals, exemption from city refuse pickup program, yard sales, and even daily lawn watering within an alternate day schedule.

Her ties to some of her "allies" at city hall - Willie Weatherford, Rex Osborn, and Mary Bingham - were observed and noted.

Her plans to continue business from her property were publicized, harried and interrupted as much as possible. Those actions, combined with a faltering economy and her own public announcement of failing health, impelled her to close down the business rather than relocate it.

(September 25, 2010; icemaker removed September 24, 2010)

The picture shows the footprint of the removed roof-mounted Scotsman condenser unit. Since the plywood door to the illegally expanded shed has been nailed shut, and the siding used as a shed wall now swings as the door, I surmise that the Scotsman compressor unit and the Follett ice storage bin have been removed from the illegal shed.

Next, the shed comes down.

From my own as-yet-unpublished legal writings:
The effects of this illegal use, abetted by the determination letter-in-error, have snowballed through the years. This section recounts certain violations of state law and municipal code that occurred after Defendants took possession of the subject property. A summary judgment, finding for the Plaintiff, would affect these items. These documents are dated after November 10, 1987 and are presented to properly illuminate the absurdly wide scope of the resulting nuisance caused by the Defendants’ false claim of being legally grandfathered on the property. They have built an entire house of cards on a fabricated foundation.
Caught in her own spiraling down-the-drain suction, Lynda's selfish and singularly myopic interests caused her to plant an outdoor marijuana garden on her property, which adjoins Sierra High School, without consulting any code requirements. Again, no compliance - never is. Now there is another misdemeanor charge against her.

It has been awesome watching - and often hearing - Lynda's shrill, self-righteous, self-destruction and her descent back to hell. I'm sure Roger and Flora Stewart and Irvin and Margaret Biggs would approve. I know I do.

Maybe God loves her; I tried and failed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* Diplomacy: An initial personal visit with a neighbor may accomplish a couple things. It sorts out the ignorant, who can be educated. It sorts out the oblivious, who can be reminded. Next are the stupid, who deliberately remain ignorantly oblivious. Lastly are the mentally impaired, who suffer from (or, more correctly, cause others to suffer) either sociopathy or psychopathy.

. . . . .

"Thus there are five factors from which victory can be known:

  • One who knows when he can fight, and when he cannot fight, will be victorious.

  • One who recognizes how to employ large and small numbers will be victorious.

  • One whose upper and lower ranks have the same desires will be victorious.

  • One who, fully prepared, awaits the unprepared will be victorious.

  • One whose general is capable and not interfered with by the ruler will be victorious.
"These five are the Way (Tao) to know victory."

(The Art of War, ibid.)
. . . . .

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Saturday, September 25, 2010

Naked Came She Into The World...

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(answer at bottom of post)

... and, because of her unremitting perversity and her obtuse, foot-dragging blockade of all efforts to remedy her nuisance, she left me no alternative but to practice tough love on her.

She could have relocated her catering truck & commissary business to a legal property and likely continued it for many more years (stoned or otherwise.) But, no... instead she chose to take early "medicinal marijuana" retirement and shut the business down.

Of course, publicly she claims the economy did her in. Privately she bends every stranger's ear (as in: yard sale visitors) with her life history and the biggest sob story ever - her version - that she has to move away because her despicable, evil neighbor is:
  • harrassing her by spying on her (midnight business operations, icemaker noise nuisance, yard radio nuisance), and
  • calling the cops on her for every little thing (loud yard radio, no building permits, too many dogs, unsecured marijuana, dead cars), and
  • maintaining a lawsuit against her for her "grandfathered" business (not grandfathered, illegal mobile home, illegal business use in zone, illegal business expansion, noise nuisance, etc.)

"Poor little me! Why is he doing this to me? I'm a good neighbor. (Just ask the people of Tracy)" the little lamb continually bleats in her assumed plaintive tones.

Pish!*

Truth can stand repetition; repetition, however, cannot make a lie into truth.
If her story had a grain of truth in it, she would be offering hard evidence of "grandfathered" status (ie., pre-annexation County of San Joaquin documentation.)

If her story had a grain of truth in it, she would be able to demonstrate to code enforcement or the police that she was in compliance with whatever charge.

If her story had a grain of truth in it, she would have petitioned for a harrassment protective order against me.

What she does know is that City of Manteca officials are so slack in their job performance that the only proofs and surveillance to be had are what I gather myself.

What she does know is that she hasn't a legal leg to stand on and her illegal business use is going down, as are all her other illegalities.

What she does know is:
  • I am not buckling under to her shrill, strident, oft-repeated falsehoods, and
  • I am not going away, and
  • I am sick and tired of her lies and deceit, her noise, her lawlessness, her arrogance, and all of her other [not!] endearing qualities.

Kicking and cursing and making all sorts of other retaliatory noise and spreading all sorts of false gossip [false gossip? Sorry for the redundancy...], this sickly, mouthy, streetworn pish peddler is finally tucking tail and slinking away.

Slink faster!

And don't let the gate slam shut on your tail! (Wait! On second thought...)
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Naked came she into the world... and she will leave this corner of it
stripped and spanked.
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* pish (interj) an exclamation of impatience or contempt; (vb) to make this exclamation at someone or something.

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Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Disturbed Skipper of Ship of Fools on Sea of Idiots

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Karma is an awesome thing!
patron saint of karmic payback

While not always wonderful in one's own life, payback can be downright hilarious when observed in someone else's.

To the west lives a pack of fools, who love nothing more than to crank up their outdoor speakers with some melodic trash while partying - outside, of course. (I don't know which hurts worse: that all his [or her] neighbors must be subjected to such crude behavior; or, that we are never invited to the parties.) Lacking more culturally "sensitive" terms, I must revert to somewhat more unsympathetic and politically incorrect words in categorizing the tasteless entertainment noise as "Mexican music."

These dolts infest the property at 700 Airport Way in the City of Manteca, County of San Joaquin, State of California, on a 1.88-acre lot that extends east to mid-block. Neighbors backing up to them also have large, deep lots that can be used for horses or other animals. Below are screen prints of a Google satellite shot and an SJ County parcel map for the location context.


This odious concertina music, with its crooning vocalists, often plays during the daytime and can be heard for at least a quarter-mile, especially when the northwest Delta breezes drift the noisesome* vibrations this direction. During the quiet of the night it can be heard even farther. They must believe that everyone within earshot actually likes the stuff. The force-feeding is nauseating.

The problem becomes acute at night, however, when the offenders periodically continue the revelry past 10:00 p.m., sometimes to midnight or 2:00 a.m. I have been awakened by the Mexican music a few times late at night. Such has been noted - and called in to the Manteca Police Department - on March 9th, June 12th, July 3rd, August 21st, and September 5th of this year alone.

Most entertaining - by far - was last Sunday on the evening of September 5th, two days ago. Upon returning home late, around 21:00 hours, I noticed the Mexican music drifting across the deep lots. Easygoing, peace loving neighbor that I am, I shrugged it off because, according to the [apparently toothless] local noise ordinance, he/she had until 22:00 hours to terminate the party noise.

A little after ten, I was surprised to see the Barefoot Dirty Girls' yard light come on. They are turn into squash gourds pumpkins much earlier than ten, going comatose from a hard day of yapping, toking, watching their foreign language speaking hired helpers work, playing picnic table games, and generally doing nothing. They positively go brain dead early (as shown by the facts of their recording the last quarter of their last Worshipful Raiders game on their brand new giant indoor Sony TV because it extended past 9:00 p.m. - while their own yard radio played... across the fence... outside... the whole time.)


Poor Mellow "Lynda" Yellow... she couldn't sleep! At 10:10 p.m., the Mexican music was keeping her up. (And, God knows, she's missed too much beauty sleep already in her almost six decades!) The pinch-faced woman gathered her tattered robe tightly and in slippers shuffled out of her house, out of the rebuilt lattice porch, across the yard, and into the outbuilding. Moments later she shuffled back into her house.

"Holy $%#@#, Batman!"** That was a slap-my-face Ah-Ha moment*** - an ironic shock of epic proportions - a perfect example of Karma, the incontestable dragon, coming back to bite Lynda's skinny ass. Not only was the benighted woman bothered by the Moo-zĕk'-ah, she was MORE bothered by the possibility that it was HER OWN YARD RADIO keeping her up. Her paranoia forced her to get up and check that her outdoor radio was turned off before calling the police... or, because I might call the police on her.

I have laughed ever since that this Mega-champion of round-the-clock noxious noise was rousted from her newly insulated and rebuilt house by someone else's yard radio a quarter-mile away! Yet she maintains her own daily nuisance radio just over my fence and expects me not to object.

An idiot. An idiot on dope. A disturbed idiot on dope.
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* noi·some (noism) (adj.) 1. Offensively malodorous; offensive to the point of arousing disgust; foul: a noisome odor. 2. Causing or able to cause nausea; "a nauseating smell"; "nauseous offal"; "a sickening stench." Loathsome, nauseating, nauseous, queasy, sickening, vile, offensive. 3. Unwholesome - detrimental to physical or moral well-being; "unwholesome food"; "unwholesome habits like smoking tobacco or marijuana." [Middle English. noiesom: noie, harm (short for anoi, annoyance, from Old French, from anoier, to annoy; see annoy) + -som, adj. suff.; see -some1.]

** A grammatical ejaculation commonly transliterated**** as "Ah-Ha."

*** Wendy Piersall - "I like to describe Ah-Ha Moments as those when the intellectual mind, the emotional mind and the physical body all come to an agreement at the same time. It’s when you have an idea or problem that you have struggled with in your mind, it caused icky or conflicting emotions, and your body usually tensed up or got stressed out when you thought about it. Then in one fell swoop, your mind 'gets it' – you have a flood (tiny or huge) of good emotions, and you feel a physical sense of relief and happiness, joy or resolution."

**** Transliterate: to write or print a letter or word using the closest corresponding letters of a different alphabet or language. Modern transliteracy is the ability to read, write and interact across a range of platforms, tools and media from signing and orality through handwriting, print, TV, radio and film, to digital social networks.
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Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Absent Mind, Absently Noisy and Wasteful

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Yesterday at 4:30 in the morning the Barefoot Dirty Girls crammed their junk, their eats, their yappy, lappy dogs, and their own [PC-censored] bodies into the Sebring, clanked their driveway gate shut behind them, and drove away into the darkness. Perhaps it has something to do with the last-second and suddenly revealed excuse to evade the property inspection discovery. I wish it was a permanent departure – a final riddance – but, alas, they will likely be back. Too bad.

Not content to disappear quietly, however, the Noxious Noise Queens hired stand-ins. Shortly after 7:00 a.m., the bilingual Felix and his foreign language speaking helper pulled into the driveway, unloaded a lawnmower, and fired it up. Because the hired mower was nowhere near as noisy or “beefy” as the Ol’ John Deere [missing - sold?], it took quite a while to mow down the month’s growth. They were still at it at 8:00 a.m.

John Deer

At 12:30, Felix y tres amigos were “hanging” in the front yard. At least some of them were there to continue the all-weekend job of stripping cabinets, cupboards, and drawers, and then repainting them, using as many electric- and air-driven power tools and air compressors as possible. Aurally encouraged by their self-supplied boom-box radio, they were still going as dusk approached.

It is wondrous to behold the huge amounts of money the self-proclaimed tightwad, Mellow Yellow, is paying out for materials and [documented?] workers to refurnish and accessorize the newly-rebuilt home. Of course, the tightly wadded proprietress has not yet paid a lawyer to defend the unlawful use of property lawsuit. Her Farmer’s Insurance homeowner’s policy is covering that – despite the policy exclusions for both business uses and illegal activities. Too bad that money is not being better used to remove the illegal business assets and to demolish the unpermitted structures housing them.

I’m pretty sure the BDG’s have adopted Friendly Felix – a jack-of-all-trades, an honorary redneck like themselves, an English speaker – and one or more of his helpers (ayudantes.) They pay their boy toys to do the odd jobs, but the toys’ real purpose is to feed the “big girls,” guard the half-acre commercial compound and, most especially, protect Loopy Lynda’s precious crop of marijuana. ({Using her most endearing nasally, twangy, squeaky, gravelly voice} “Now, don’ you boys smoke too mucha that, ya hear?”)

Here is how the crop looked on July 8th.


Here is how the crop looks now.


It is into the seventh week since police visited Lynda and told her to enclose and secure the pot farm, but it is still in the open and across an easily scalable fence from Sierra High School. Yet another law the pothead, Mellow Yellow, loves to ignore. Ain't she special?

How well the boys perform is illustrated by the lawn watering that took place after the first seasonal mowing of the grass (... the other grass, dopehead!) Before the BDG-appointed landscape maintenance/cabinet replacement crew vacated the house Monday night, they turned off the big plasma screen TV and turned on the sprinkler out front. They did not return until 8:00 o’clock Tuesday morning to turn it off – approximately eleven or twelve hours later. (“Conserve water? Us? F-U!”)

The Doped Dilettantes have no clue Manteca has a water conservation ordinance they should follow. (Really? The BDG’s observe a law? break a law? Never!) They are forever turning on their sprinklers on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday instead of their prescribed Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. But they don’t give a shit because those pesky city ordinances can't possibly apply to them – and they are only guidelines anyway, right?

Remember: She’s old; she must be grandfathered.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Code-Talking Trustees Maintain The Warden's Prime Directive

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Yesterday at 05:48 hrs, up in smoke Mellow Yellow snuck off the gated, guarded (but not sound attenuated) cell block in Guts[y] Green's car. Subsequent events indicate she was detained on some undoubtedly important errand for a period of time.

For a goodly portion of the next hour, Ravaged Red and Guts[y] Green aimlessly knocked about their property.


Then this conversation commenced at 07:02 hrs:

Red: "I think it's that time, Green."

Green: "Whazat?"

Red: "I think it's that time."

Green: "That time?" {called to dogs for the next few seconds}

Red: "Moo-zĕk'-ah." {the mutilated attempt by the monolingual fry cook to pronounce 'musica,' the Spanish word for music}

Green: "Oh, oh... oh...? Oh! THAT time!" {she hastened to turn on the yard radio - it played for the next thirteen hours}



Ravaged Red's sortie into linguistic endeavors ("Something’s Wrong - But You’ll Never Know What It Is")  shows that she falls into the same under-performing quartile as Mellow Yellow. The same goes for the Tertiary Trustee, Guts[y] Green, in her listening skills and her abortive impression of a music show host.

Mellow Yellow should be sooo proud of her #1 and #2 students!
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Tuesday, July 6, 2010

I CAN'T HEAR YOU! (aka, Shooting Yourself in the Foot)

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It is apparent my new occupation is comedy writer, a suggested title offered me by the author of the book, Neighbors From Hell. My inexhaustible source, the neighboring apple-colored sisters (Red, Yellow, and Green), provide a constantly-refreshing well of not only noise, lies and idiocy, but also...


stupid people tricks.

On Saturday at 08:40 hrs, the outdoor radio was turned on and cranked up more loudly than usual. Eighty-nine ear-splitting minutes later (10:09 hrs), the following hilarious exchange took place between Yellow and Green. Yellow was apparently rockin' out too close to the radio and suffered aural impairment from her own retaliatory noise nuisance device.


= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 
Corky: {muffled...}
Lynda: What?

Corky: {a couple seconds.} {muffled...} the sprinkler?
Lynda: {brain cells burning. exasperated.} What, Green?

Corky: {still muffled...} the sprinklers.
Lynda: I can't hear you! {The eff'n radio is too loud!}

Corky: {yelling} You need to change the sprinklers!
Lynda: Oh. OK.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

 
Ya gotta love dopes like this - the same exceedingly clever neanderthals* who turned the radio on for ONE MINUTE at 07:06 hrs that same morning. Actually, they were beginning their usual daily noise harrassment, but some of my friends showed up right then... and the BDGs don't like witnesses to their amentia.** Sorta makes you wonder,

"What's going to happen when they shoot themselves in the OTHER bare foot?"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
* neanderthal (n) boor, lout, oaf, swine, piggy, prehistoric ("grandfathered" grandmothers?); ill-mannered and coarse and contemptible in behavior or appearance.

** amentia (n) idiocy; extreme mental retardation

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Thursday, June 24, 2010

A Question of Color

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A catechism (pronounced /ˈkætəkɪzəm/; Ancient Greek: κατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), i.e. to indoctrinate) is a summary or exposition of doctrine. The form has, historically and typically, followed a dialogue or question-and-answer format. This format calls upon two parties to participate, a master and a student (traditionally termed a "scholar"), a parent and a child, or, as in the example below, a secular catechism between a dominant and submissive.

The following catechism took place yesterday morning at 07:15 hours, while everything was still and peaceful.
Lynda Allen: Kinda quiet out here, i'n't it? (The radio's not on yet? What'n hell ya been doin'?)
Theresa Brassey: Sure is. (Go ahead - turn it on yerself!)
Lynda Allen: They turned it on to soccer. (The foreign language speaking workers were listening to World Cup FIFA fútbol the day before.)
Theresa Brassey: {mutter...} I don't know. (Whatever...)
From the exchange's manifold purposes, these three are clearly drawn:
  1. Daily affirmation of Lynda's dominance.
  2. Daily submission of Theresa to Lynda.
  3. Daily announcement to their hated neighbor that he is about to be forced to think of Lynda when she turns on her outdoor radio... and if he don't like it, he can go f*** himself.
And, of course, she turned the radio on moments later.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


I am able to detect color in Brassey (the red of apoplexy, or the heatstroke of cooking chorizo and eggs over a catering truck stove for twenty-odd years) and in Greene (gray, with a little pink). But Allen...?

Hate and insanity appear to be colorless. Yup, every morning around 07:00 hrs, when Allen shuffles out of her house to turn on the yard radio, she appears devoid of color, zombie-like and lifeless - on the outside:
  • deeply lined, unsmiling face (OMG! Can't allow another minute of silence!) 
  • straight, stringy hair of indistinguisable hue
  • nails-on-chalkboard voice and horror-show laugh
  • frumpy bathrobe with fuzz-less slippers
and on the inside:
  • slavish devotion to breaking the law (mobile home, business, noise, dogs, construction, etc.)
  • insulting haughtiness in breaking the law (I gotta right! I'm legally grandfathered!)
  • distrust of authority and paranoia about neighbors
  • attempts at ingratiation of police turning to hostility
  • knack for alienating people with her demands
  • keeping "vicious" junkyard dogs (who crap all over and mirror their mistresses' personalities)
She simply cannot endure silence. So why does she deliberately turn on the radio outside and shuffles back inside the house for an hour? (I'm curious if there are any mirrors in there?) What drives her and keeps her going on this hopeless course of self-destruction? Is she getting everything she wants out of life? Is she, perhaps, reaping what she has so deceitfully sown for all these years "in the country" in the City of Manteca?

Not a colorful picture, this insanity of Allen's.

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Then... a glimmer...

Today, she accosts a 90-year-old man, known by her to be an acquaintance of mine, and engages in the classic gossip game of "See What Route Your Bogus Story Takes Before Coming Back To You" (also known as, Who Told Who.) She pitches him a line about fixing up her house to rent it out and moving to Oregon.

The briefest flash of color...
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Lynda is fond of saying and practicing, "We don't talk," so that leaves me free to speculate on what's really going on - which is OK because true insanity is to believe anything she says and virtually everything she does - as in (grandfathering) (icemaker) (compromise). Some possible scenarios are these:

(1) She is full of shit  lying - again - and isn't going anywhere. (Remember, it's just a gossip game of misinformation.) She is really playing a waiting game to see if I give up or lose the civil lawsuit.
(2) She is intending to rent out the place to one of her clone-of-Lynda friends (But where will she go? Oregon is far away. I'll miss her - about as much as I miss the ice machine!)
(3) She is not renting it out, merely trading houses temporarily with a clone-of-Lynda. (She would miss me too much to stay away long.)

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The dusky, dirty hue brightens somewhat... and... wouldn't you know it? Lynda's color is YELLOW! Like a yellow-bellied lizard!

No matter what this "brilliant" tactician says or does (or doesn't), all options point to retension of the property. That's good because then there will be something with intrinsic value - not all that business junk - against which to file a judgment lien.
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Friday, June 18, 2010

NFH Recidivism*

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(Image by Steve Cox)


Oh, yesss!... Mr. Cox has captured the essential, empty natures of the Barefoot Dirty Girls. The likenesses and relationships are nearly perfect. [Note: Requested minor changes before purchase: (1) The Alpha Female here is depicted larger than the others. Could you, perhaps, physically stunt the dirty blonde to 4½ - 5 feet? And more gnome-like?; (2) Is it possible to make the redhead "wider", without losing the look of gauntness?; (3) Turn the green hair grey and put a little "pooch" in the tummy; and, (4) Put the Alpha Female and green/grey/hair in sports bras!]

. . .
Small habits well pursued betimes
May reach the dignity of crimes.
Hannah More

. . .
As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool returneth to his folly.
Proverbs 26:11
. . .


Wouldn't you know it? The BDGs, who like dogs have pissed all over  "marked" their territory by playing a yard radio daily from 07:00 hrs to bedtime, and insistently maintain their folly, have decided they can again afford to ramp up their nuisance.

Since the weekend of May 15-16, the neighbors have been entertaining a foreign language-speaking, two-man construction crew, and accompanying their work with the strains of Mega 100.1 FM, KQOD, Stockton. The "happy" sounds of power saws, hammers, scraping shovels, and the cycling of (icemaker-sounding) air compressors for pneumatic stapling and nailing have overlaid the radio for over a month. The dilatory** construction schedule appears to be a combination of several factors: lack of permits, lack of drawings (buying lumber one piece at a time), lack of brains among all parties, among many other items. When the "overlooked" [Lynda's favorite word] porch rebuild permit was finally secured, the re-roof project was suspended and the dogs returned to their vomit, so to speak. The overriding objective, of course, is the neighbors' tenuously legal ability to stretch another noise nuisance over the longest possible period of time.

Tuesday of this week, however, the owners experimented with... {wait for it...} turning the radio volume up! So it was that at 16:42 hrs the decibel level jumped until bedtime. Of course, they are sending the crew away later and later as construction continues until dark, as a forthcoming chart clearly shows. Thank God the summer solstice is only days away - and the daylight get shorter and shorter.

Thursday, the radio was re-tuned at 11:38 hrs to a foreign language station and the volume cranked crazy high, enough to be heard over the power tools being employed, including the BDGs' leaf blower (or string trimmer, or whatever-the-hell other power equipment they use to maintain their gravel business yard.) How can one take a lunch time nap with all that racket? If you have ever thought how irritating the play-by-play announcer is at any sporting event, just try listening to one who doesn't speak the official language of this country and is broadcasting his monotonous tripe to a worldwide audience. At 13:50 hrs the station was reset to Mega 100.1 FM but the volume was not reduced.

But for the reason of the BDGs' stinkin' thinkin' outlined above (and documented long ago), I can handle reasonable construction sounds. On the other hand, lest the BDGs think I will allow them to broadcast to the neighborhood the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) World Cup Fútbol games from now through July 21st, it's only fair to warn them that I consider ANYTHING coming from the yard radio a disturbance of my peace and will be dealt with according to California's Penal Code, Section 415 (2).

. . .
But it is happened unto them according to the true proverb,
The dog is turned to his own vomit again;
and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire.
2 Peter 2:22
. . .

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
* recidivism (n)  gen.  a tendency to relapse into a previous condition or mode of behavior ; spec.  a negatively connoted repeated relapsing into unhealthy, criminal, nuisance, or delinquent behavior.
(v) a tendency to recidivate.
(adj) re·cidi·vistic, re·cidi·vous
[Recidivism is a common term used when speaking of the revolving door of a "Corrections" facility. From recidivist, one who recidivates, from French récidiviste, from récidiver, to relapse, from Medieval Latin recidvre, from Latin recidvus, falling back, from recidere, to fall back : re-, re- + cadere, to fall; see kad- in Indo-European roots.]

** dilatory (adj) 1 : tending or intended to cause delay 2 : characterized by procrastination : tardy Intentionally delaying (someone or something); slow or tardy; intended to cause delay, gain time, or defer decision
[15th century, Middle English, from Anglo-French dilatorie, Late Latin dilatorius, from Latin differre (past participle dilatus) to postpone, differ]
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Thursday, June 3, 2010

Santa Claus' Radio Room at the Top of the Rainbow

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As we wait... and wait... for the court to get around to docketing the misdemanor charge, it is time to recap the pervasive and invasive nature of Three Beaches (five) dogged determination to perpetuate the "feeling" of a business establishment on BOTH of our residential properties. (Of course, their property retains the "business look" with all of the vehicles, structures, equipment, appliances, and fixtures still illegally residing where they have for twenty-three years.)

The BDGs began their Great White Noise Cover-Up in June 2009 by installing the outdoor radio speaker. But, because of the continuous icemaker noise, the 3:00 a.m. hour-long Ice Bucket Brigade, the 4:30 roach coach departure, and the diesel-powered vendor delivery trucks, the afternoon radio usage was the least of the noise pollution.

With the January 2010 icemaker shutdown and the February 2010 discontinuance of the catering truck runs, the radio nuisance came into its own - finally assuming the true malicious reason for its existence. As the chart below shows, its scheduled use also elongated from their former afternoon return time of approx. 13:15 hrs to its present daily startup of 07:00 hrs.


  • The blue line shows the BDGs consistent (and illegal) start time at 07:00 hrs over three months. The once a week dips to 08:00 hrs is the "bone" they toss me on Sunday mornings before turning on gospel rock. How "Christian" of them... 

  • The pink line shows how the BDGs average bedtime has slipped as the Spring days got longer and stayed lighter - until they got TV. 

  • The yellow line and data points are the difference between the daily start time and the daily stop time. It shows how many hours each day the radio speaker is broadcasting into my house and yard. 

  • Linear trendline analysis shows that daily radio nuisance increased from just over 12 hours to just under 13 hours daily (average 12.27 hours.)
My best guess is that Mega 100.1 FM, KQOD Stockton was the station the Barefoot Dirty Girls treated themselves to (and to their poor customers) while plying their ancient trade on the streets of Tracy, California - as referred to last Christmas morning.
Oh, what was that noise? My ears took the hit!
'Twas the loud strains of soft rock that accompany the shit
Served up from the roach coach they defensively guard
Within the bleak compound of their half-acre yard.
The serenades, football games, news breaks with smokes,
Station identifications, the advertising blokes -
It goes on all day and well into the night.
Just their way of saying, "Yep, we're here to spite!"

 
Noise is so hard-wired into their reptilian neuro-circuitry that they appear unable to function in its absence - they HAVE TO create noise to prove their existence, an external manifestation of their self-loathing, refusing to live quietly inside their own heads, allowing nothing but self-chosen stimulus to block out the world around them. This radio, a po'-mouth perversion of Muzak (c), is supported by all three residents, who take nuisance promulgation assignments from the Supreme Generalissimo.
 
I was surprised (more like, ecstatically tickled) yesterday morning when the radio did not come on at 07:00. The BDGs were distracted, much too high, (gone all a-fluttery?), by the imminent arrival of a crew of roofers to do some stripping. It was a full 22 minutes later that one BDG stated the half-question to Lynda, "We forgot our music." Of course, that environmental deficiency was immediately remediated. (We are compelled to let our @$$-hole neighbor how we feel about him!)
 
Of course, I pay zero attention to whatever is programmed by the radio station. I only hear ONE tune (retaliatory nuisance noise) and only ONE repeating lyric - exemplified by my neighbors - a two-word vulgar expression that starts with the letter "F" and ends with the letter "U".
 
Truly a BDG gift that never stops giving... the finger.
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Friday, May 21, 2010

Flying Her True Colors (or, The Dominant Is Unmasked)

I'm dang near speechless!

I picked up a copy of the police report on the Disturbing The Peace complaint filed against Lynda Allen, et al, on April 28, 2010. (See California Penal Code, Section 415 (2).) The officer did a masterful job of writing the report. It is factual, but not at all dry. His written observations captured the essence of the dominant known as Lynda - her belligerent attitudes; her egocentric and antisocial behaviors; and her abrupt, abrasive communication style.

As much as I truly wish to publicly share the three-paragraph narrative with my faithful followers, I must exercise patience until the District Attorney's office has had a chance to review the report and the other evidence on which this criminal complaint is based. What I CAN do is remind you of these posts leading up to the complaint:

 new radio ADDS to noise nuisance,
 the magic rock,
 Christmas present,
 her big thingy,
 6:00 a.m. Super Bowl weekend (here and here),
 Valentine's weekend,
 demand letter,
 magic rock reprise,
 rejected settlement,
 smoke gets in your eyes,
 audience of one Easter Sunday,
 just for the hell of it, and
 pimples ready for popping.

But... to say what she said to the police officer, and the galling tones she used, and her abrupt, defiant termination of the brief visit - all this verified what I've known regarding this woman from our earliest dealings. Her mask has slipped and exposed her to authorities for what she truly is... a spoiled and vindictive child. She has lost her credibility at Manteca City Hall, although some former protectors, still gulled by her schmooze, may yet try to shield her from prosecution.

With her "hobby" business now folded, she has retreated to Plan B, which appears to be only clueless, useless lurching about her graveled, business yard, half-acre compound. I certainly hope she has considered Plans C, D, and E  (capitulate, de-louse, and escape)...

... and take her flying colors with her.

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Friday, April 30, 2010

Scraping the Bottom

Got a second call from my attorney last night (Thursday.) It appears T, L or C called their freebie Farmers Insurance Company attorney (Why is Farmer's Insurance still hanging with these losers?) to tell him, Mark D. McCauley, Esq., about the criminal complaint I filed on them Wednesday night. Of course, because this commercial insurance attorney, and his employer, and their one giant client, have NO interest in defending criminal policyholders, he called my attorney to emphatically renew his commitment to speedily settle the civil suit, even if the defendants are pissed off about it. (Ohhh... I can see contempt of court charges already!) That's why my attorney called me.

Now that the two attorneys and I are singing from the same page of the hymnbook, all that remains is to beg  persuade  cajole  bribe  convince  tell  order  force  have the civil case defendants sign onto the Stipulated Judgment.

All of which precedes the fact that Lynda Allen is losing control. The most predictable thing about "control freaks" is that when they lose the ability to control the people around them, they freak out and revert to childish and asinine antics - or adult temper tantrums - in pathetic attempts to regain even "negative" control.

The previous post showed that despite the P.C. 415 citation she received hours before, she still turned on the yard radio yesterday morning...

... and again this morning. (Keep diggin', baby! Let's see how deep a hole you want to dig for yourself.) Banging around in the yard for an hour before, at 7:04 a.m. Lynda, still in her robe and slippers, shuffled from house to outbuilding and turned on the radio. On the way back to the house, however, she stepped in something - probably dog shit! - and tried scraping it off before going in. The incident prompted me to recall the "too many dogs" complaint and the chicken they allow loose on the property.

... and it reawakened a memory of something I read in their Health Department files almost two years ago. (Ahhh, yes... here it is.)



No wonder they were shoeless! Which is worse, a slap on the hands (or feet) for shoelessness, or losing your Health Department certificate (which shuts down your catering truck) because of whatever! on the bottom of your shoes?

The complaint, above, inspired a new name for the trio next door. Since they no longer operate TLC Catering, their new name is:

BAREFOOT DIRTY GIRLS!


Anybody wanna buy some catering trucks? See pictures of them at the end of this post.
(But remember to have them thoroughly cleaned [by professionals] before their first use.)

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Tuesday, April 27, 2010

"God-Awful Choice of Music?"

A funny thing happened at work today. As I made my rounds, it became apparent that something was in the air - something wrong. Same people, different day, but something wasn't quite right.

Finally, the office manager asked me about the Muzak program. "Who made this choice of god-awful music?" Suddenly, I could hear the problem. Whatever it was that Muzak was serving up today was too loud and it DID sound pretty bad... but strangely familiar. The first and only answer I could give her was simply, "My neighbors."

Have you never seen coffee sprayed from someone's nose? Clutching herself, I thought she was going to have a coronary event right there at her desk.

She eventually recovered... and someone turned down the god-awful Muzak.

Where do I send my TLC music service cancellation request?
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A Couple of Her Brain Cells Still Work (Almost)

It is still uncertain exactly what T, L & C smoke out in their outbuilding, but whatever it is it sure puffs up Lynda's sense of self-importance and gives her verbal diarreah.

(Really? More than her normal, over-inflated self-centeredness and compulsion to "share" herself with on everyone?)

T, L & C sat around all day yesterday, supervising some guy digging, hauling, pounding, and sawing stuff (Oh, no! More illegal construction?). When he left at 7:45 p.m. in his red Chevrolet van, with the silver diamond on the hood trailing into silver stripes along the sides, the sidewalk superintendents holed up and burned up a few... ah... brain cells. Of course, the yard radio is outside, and had been on since 6:58 a.m., and was still ON at 9:30 p.m. - 14 and 1/2 hours later - while they are inside having their smoke-off.

Having "enjoyed" enough of the TLC serenade - in the morning - at noontime - all evening - I called the Manteca Police Department to come witness this unusual _e_l_o_n_g_a_t_i_o_n_ of the musical day. Alas, prior to the arrival of the police, the befuzzled celebrants emerged from their smoke-filled den at 9:53, hollered something that sounded like "This is just beginning", turned off the radio at 9:55 p.m. (15 hours), wished a good night to someone they called "Dick", and turned off their yard lights.

The two police vehicles drove up at 9:58. (Ever since Lynda "lit into" Officer Mike on his first visit, a backup is now required for dealing with her.) I reported the timing and duration of the radio nuisance and that the neighbors had just turned in. One officer shrugged and said, "We'll wake them up if we need to," and they went to speak with the Trinity's spokesmouth. A short front porch conversation ensued.

Afterward, as the officers reached the sidewalk, again Lynda's needy, greedy self demanded that she ingratiate herself, so she hollered out, "Have a nice night." (Notice, she did not call them by given names this time.) The officers were only halfway to their vehicles across the street when something from the shallow end of her shallow logic pool compelled Lynda to shout out, "Is there a limit to the number of calls? Thirty?" The officers stopped... and turned... The Ice Queen hastily stammered out, "I'm just jokin' " and another "Have a good night," trying vigorously in her redneck way to wave away the icy chill generated by her incredibly crass inquiry.

The officers pulled a U-turn and I met with one by my driveway. He reported my neighbor now believes 10:00 p.m. to be the "legal" cut-off time for the radio. (Now she's suddenly a noise ordinance expert? If so, what does it say about 7:00 a.m.?)  [Well, I'll be damned! It says 8:00 a.m.] The officer tried unsuccessfully to introduce to the benighted woman the simple concept that the big-hands-and-little-hands-o'clock do not apply to something that causes a disturbance of the peace. I told the officer that was the direction I was going and we parted.

Walking back to my lighted front porch, I was confronted by the hissing, venomous hellcat herself - the Generalissimo in bathrobe and slippers on her lawn. Her dirty gray dishrag hair flipped back and forth while her jawbone opened and shut. As I got closer, the half-choked burbling directed by her fully-cooked brain resolved into a reprise from twenty minutes earlier of, "This is just beginning... from now on it's ALL day, EVERY day!" (Holy crap! That sounds just like, " 'Well, bring him on!' says Pearl," in that inimitable, scratchy Shel Silverstein voice from his reefer ballad, The Smoke-Off.) I walked and looked at her, wordlessly. She repeated herself. I repeated my silence and my footsteps. She forced one of her bone-chilling laughs out of her oral orifice while I entered my house and closed the door. I thought, 'The only time expansion of the nuisance left to her is their former bedtime to 10:00 p.m. What was the real substance of her threat? Whatever it is... Bring It ON!'

The night finally closed around 10:25.

This morning opened early, about 6:55 a.m., when Lynda, with the same dirty gray dishrag hair, the same bathrobe and slippers, the newly revitalized, five-minutes-early Lynda, pops out of her door and shuffles over to the outbuilding to turn on the outdoor radio. But at the door something stops her... In an awesome, flashing moment of realization, a couple brain cells fire off! She turns around and re-shuffles back, leaving off her daily rape of Nature's sounds.

Sweet Lord Almighty! Like the Grinch, who's heart grew three sizes that magical Suess-Christmas morning, did Lynda's brain recover a few precious neural pathways overnight? The answer came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!

The answer came at 7:15a.m. when the radio came ON. Not just a pretty face, Lynda has a brain cell (or two) in her head. Caught by the police a second time last night in her bathrobe and shuffly slippers, this time she was not going to chance her neighbor calling them for the thirty-first time while she was dressed that way. (Besides, she really needed to use that most useful porcelain invention promoted and improved by Thomas Crapper because she was... how do you say?... full of s**t?)

So, here are the lessons my dimly-endowed neighbors may have learned:

#1 - Go #1 in the morning.
#2 - Go #2, too.
#3 - Wash your hands (and mouth) with soap every time you do #1 or #2.
#4 - Get dressed before you screw up because you will be visited when you screw up.

(Let's see how many repetitions it takes for T, L & C to get pot**-trained...)
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Friday, April 16, 2010

Tactical Retreat as a Strategic Offense

A whole week went by with the yard radio magic rock speaker turned away from my house and the volume set really low - until this morning.

The night and morning temperatures were pleasant enough to sleep with the bedroom window open - until 7:07 this morning. Upon being assaulted yet again by the act of Lynda, Theresa or Corky manually turning on the yard radio, I slammed my window shut. One of the Trinity gleefully added injury to injury by increasing the volume and turning the speaker my direction again.



Do they think to "hide" by waiting until no one (in authority) appears to be watching (or, listening) before turning it back up? Please forgive my suspicion and skepticism, but factoring in their history of deceit, lying, abrasiveness, intimidating, and outright scoffing at laws their one-week retreat convinces me this scaled back low-level harrassment is merely a ploy to "fly under the radar" for a while.

For the first five or six years of T, L & C's illegal operation on 810 Fishback St, their tactic of "laying low" - not calling attention to themselves - was mainly how they evaded detection and regulation by the City of Manteca. This period also established the "long time on the property" argument, which they parlayed into the "grandfathered from the county" lie that they successfully perpetrated on the Manteca Planning Department to obtain their "free pass."

Too bad for them I have recordings and photographs of the yard radio, and police reports of their malicious usages of it, which establish their cagey, cynical dealings in this matter.

More proof that T, L or C get their little rock off deliberately? Same day; lunch time; speaker turned completely away (can't see the little circle on the front.) And, never fear, the very next time the magic rock senses any disturbance in the Force, it will come spinning back around into offensive position.


Keep the really good, noisy stuff coming, ladies.


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p.s. Everyone knows the old saying, "Owners tend to look like their dogs and their rock speakers."


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