POURQUOI?!

Pardon my French. The question that I have for the neighboring boys is so pregnant with meaning that I felt it necessary to say it in a different tongue, that extends the word, and thus its questioning, into more than one syllable. And so today, because it's more fun to say and at the same time more subversive, being the language of un-patriots and all, I give you an angry letter in Franglais.

Cheris Garçons,

Je haven't taken French in years, so mon Francais may be off, mais, allow me to ask you a question: POURQUOI, MON FILS, POURQUOI?!?! Êtes-vous fou?! Êtes-vous stupide?! Êtes-vous sourd (this one means deaf, I looked it up)? Comment est-ce que c'est possible que vous avez the worst music taste in the world!?

You really stepped up the ridiculousness this weekend. When you left a note last night, when none of us were around, to apologize for the hour of loud music and promise that all your little hockey friends would be gone by 8:30pm, we found it endearing, cute, and slightly unnecessary. But when you started blasting music at 2 o'clock in the morning, those feelings soon vanished. And when you repeated the loud blasting of music, this time at a decibel so loud that surely you must not be able to hear anymore, and again late into the night, we are officially declaring our stance on you has shifted from mild annoyance to full-on, blood thirsty rage. Of all the music you could blast in the world, boys, why techno!? Why must you blast it as if it's Metallica (pardon the dated reference, I'm tired, laisse-moi)!? Pourquoi, mon dieu, permettez-vous ceci?! I do not pretend to have a sophisticated music sense, or know a lot about our great and varied musical culture, but I speak with absolute certainty when I say that your taste is crap, even in your selection among the techno genre. Your parents need to own up to their debts to society.

Also- where did the half dozen bags of trash suddenly come from? And must you put it in our hallway?

À bientôt.

No on Techno