Rainy Day Woman/Bob Dylan

I was looking for “Everybody Must Get Stoned” on Youtube. Am I the only person who didn’t know that the actual title is “Rainy Day Woman”?

But I digress. I really wanted to write about Gord, the drug dealer who lives across the street. I’m not sure how I feel about having a drug dealer in the neighbourhood. It’s possible that I wouldn’t care at all, as long as he went about his business quietly. After having seen Maria Full of Grace though, I’m not sure I should be so complacent about local consumption that is provided via 50+-condom feeding frenzies and orgiastic violence elsewhere. Other addictive substances – cocoa and coffee come to mind – have fair trade alternatives. Maybe some enterprising drug dealer needs to start a fair trade drug business.

But I digress again. I’m bemused by Gord’s behaviour. I would have thought that drug dealers would be disinclined to draw attention to themselves. Maybe Gord is using some sort of reverse psychology. He has 5 hound dogs that lounge in the front window and bark at everything that goes by, so the house constantly attracts attention. Cars drive up at all hours, stereos blasting, the passengers not even bothering to hide the fact that some sort of transaction is about to take place. A monster truck arrived one night and charged a snowbank in Gord’s front yard, as if it were taking part in a demolition derby . Someone descended from the cab. “Hey, you got any fuckin’ money to pay this guy with?” he yelled at his friend in the truck. Once I went over to ask Gord to turn his music down, and was met at the door by Gilligan’s Doppelganger. He seemed surprised that I was bothered by the heavy bass, even though the house was visibly shaking. He was the one who pointed this latter fact out, although he said he couldn’t, while talking to me on his front doorstep, hear anything. He argued for a bit, claiming that the sound didn’t exceed 50 decibels. I told him I didn’t have a decibel meter, but the music was bothering me. We went back and forth like that for a bit, and finally he said he would turn it down. Then he shook my hand and introduced himself, which is how I learned his name is Gord.

A few weeks ago Gord got busted. They seized drugs with a street value of close to $100,000 from his house. This doesn’t seem to have had any impact on his business. Cars still pull up, people go into the house, leave after 5 minutes.

Soon this will no longer be my problem. A neighbour came over and told me that Gord is leaving. He bought a $1500 woofer, and wants to move somewhere where he can enjoy his music without other people complaining about the noise.