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Change in perspective

 loudness.png When I was 17 or 18, I drove my older brother's 1979 Sunbird home one time. That doesn't sound that cool, but he (personally) had crammed a 400 small block in there. It was the kind of car that put out 100 decibels of low-pitched BLUB BLUB BLUB BLUB BLUB when you just idled down the street barely touching the gas. For teenage-me, it was awesome. I was also fascinated by loud motorcycles and fighter jets. Standard stereotypical teenage boy stuff, I guess.

When I reached my mid twenties, they were merely "interesting", but mostly just the engineering side of things. A loud car didn't turn my head, and I'd usually just feel embarrassed for whoever was trying to impress people by making loud car noises.

Towards the end of college and into employment life, I mostly internally made fun of the douches who thought purchasing a loud and expensive car was going to impress people, but I still pretty much ignored them[1].


Now, however, I completely hate them. Loud cars, loud motorcycles, loud dogs, and loud people in general. I hate them with the fire of a thousand burning suns.

What's changed?

I have a sleeping toddler.

When that little bugger is finally asleep, it changes everything.

I want to shoot potato guns at the douches who stomp on the gas in their assholemobiles when leaving the stop sign near our house.

I want to help settle your public domestic shouting problem with duct tape and wire.

I want to feed chocolate to your dogs.

I want to ban car alarms.

I want to legally mandate maximum decibels on everything: cars, trucks, horns, jets, kids, your mouth…

I want your favorite overly-bass-heavy musician to die of a drug overdose.


Or, at least wait until 4 or 5 PM. He'll be awake by then.

2016-10-17 #parenting  

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