So I was thinking of this song that we played in grade school band called Mony Mony. I looked it up. It was a song from 1968 and Billy Idol did a version in 1981. It dawned on me that this band conductor made us do a lot of popular music songs that he probably listened to in his youth. Kind of a douche thing to do. We should have been sticking to classical music. But I guess he thought that you needed something to entice the parents to come to the recitals or whatever they were called. Some mass appeal.
I only remember it because my friend and fellow drummer created lyrics consisting entirely of "Mony Mony/Fuck a pony".
Aw, this Billy Idol version sucks. What's that pole smoker doing these days? Still on the outer fringes of the music industry, it seems. That's kind of sad. Last Grammy Award nomination was in 1991.
Nothing about his personal life, oddly. He's clearly gay. Apparently he has a wife and two children. Claims to be bisexual, though.
What else. Oh, I'm secretly recording the abusive neighbour downstairs. He yells abuse at his baby mama literally all day so it's easy to capture. It's just a monologue. No argument, just him yelling and asking if she knows what he means. It's a black, of course.
I wouldn't really get involved because I don't care about these underclass chavs but they have a young child and I think that something should be done. That child would be better off out of there.
So I complained to the landlady who is mulling over what to do. At the very least I'm going to send these recordings to the police when I move out.
I mean, I could live with myself if I just let it go. I can't solve all problems. There's loads of black guys out there abusing their wives/girlfriends/baby mamas, after all. But it just seems the thing to do. If anything actually comes of it or not, I don't care, but at least I did my part. I mean, a tape recording is spectacular evidence. What more can I do?