Man, I Just Love Bongo Drums!

Yes, that's a sarcastic statement. This weekend, we had what I can only describe as a "harbinger of dark times to come." The summer bongo drum playing bozzos have arrived to our peaceful little corner of non-tourist oriented Santa Monica. They invaded our little public park across the road, home to plenty of vagabonds who do no-one any harm, like locusts to a fresh crop devouring every last morsel of the soundscape. Now, as rule, and as my close friends will attest, I am normally a very tolerant person. Dare I say, a touch liberal minded even. But if there is one thing I just can't get my head around and open up to, it is the incessant clamour of a bunch of dudes sitting in public and wanking on a piece of stretched hide. It is like the bongo drum was invented as a cruel joke on society at large by someone who wanted to give every talentless hack musician an excuse to become "a percussionist" by trade! I mean, what is with these people? I just don't get it. The same uninspired beat, over and over again, for something approximating a day! The words "monumental waste of energy" don't even seem to begin encompass the abject cultural poverty I see when I gaze upon some tighty whitey sloppily slapping a sheep's skin! Brutal! I am trying to think of some non-violent way I can protest to this noise polution... and I am having a hard time...