Seriously. If this guy thinks his neighbors would be cool with his COLLECTION of sirens that operate on three-phase power, he’s got a wad of expanded polyethylene foam where his brain ought to reside.
I’ll have to take your word for it. The way I figure it, there’s a neighbor-to-neighbor noise spectrum on which everybody is constantly, even unconsciously evaluating everyone who lives around them.
On one end of the spectrum is the concept of “I don’t want to be that guy who calls the cops about this fucking noise, but I LITERALLY HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO SLEEP FOR THREE DAYS.” I suppose the other end of the spectrum would be something like “all these fellows have been so quiet and considerate that they could give their collectible sirens a couple of good blasts, and I’d be happy for the break in the near-oppressive silence.”
See, the thing is, everywhere I’ve ever lived, I have been just about a notch and a half below the “I’m going to call the fucking cops” end of the spectrum. Always. The whole time.
Here’s a non-exhaustive (but certainly exhausting) set of examples, off the top of my head: dogs barking over and over and over, kids screaming, people deciding they just HAVE to mow the lawn at 6:00 AM on a Saturday, people with speaker systems that literally count as earthquake simulation machines, people who think it’s hilarious to illegally modify their muscle cars’ exhaust systems to basically have no muffler, people running their wood jointer machine for so long that I can only imagine they’re operating an illegal, untaxed lumber supply racket, people interminably screaming at their spouses and significant enemies in their driveways and on the sidewalks, etc, on and on.
It’s just a ceaseless and endlessly varied cacophony of fucking sound, from these rude motherfuckers. If any one of the shitheads who has lived near me over the last 40-something years had ever started collecting sirens, I would have lost my mind in the same arguably constructive way that young Bruce Wayne lost his marbles. There would be some guy called “Decibel Dude” stalking the streets, pouring sugar in leafblower gas tanks, muzzling dogs, removing chains from chainsaws and blades from lawnmowers, and whatever else I could think of to FINALLY MAKE PEOPLE JUST A LITTLE FUCKING QUIETER, FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
I’m just saying. Your world of “we’re all respectfully quiet, around here” is an utterly alien utopia, from where I’m sitting.
It’s illegal for us to set the sirens off willy nilly in most places, as it would cause a panic. Most of us (myself included) wait until the city tests their main sirens to set ours off, or on special occasions like New Years and Fourth of July/Canada Day. We’re very aware of how our hobby affects others and those who don’t learn very quickly when the neighbours get pissed.
There are some good zoning laws I guess
Seriously. If this guy thinks his neighbors would be cool with his COLLECTION of sirens that operate on three-phase power, he’s got a wad of expanded polyethylene foam where his brain ought to reside.
You’d be surprised when you’re respectful about it and/or live in the middle of nowhere. We don’t just set them off willy nilly.
I’ll have to take your word for it. The way I figure it, there’s a neighbor-to-neighbor noise spectrum on which everybody is constantly, even unconsciously evaluating everyone who lives around them.
On one end of the spectrum is the concept of “I don’t want to be that guy who calls the cops about this fucking noise, but I LITERALLY HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO SLEEP FOR THREE DAYS.” I suppose the other end of the spectrum would be something like “all these fellows have been so quiet and considerate that they could give their collectible sirens a couple of good blasts, and I’d be happy for the break in the near-oppressive silence.”
See, the thing is, everywhere I’ve ever lived, I have been just about a notch and a half below the “I’m going to call the fucking cops” end of the spectrum. Always. The whole time.
Here’s a non-exhaustive (but certainly exhausting) set of examples, off the top of my head: dogs barking over and over and over, kids screaming, people deciding they just HAVE to mow the lawn at 6:00 AM on a Saturday, people with speaker systems that literally count as earthquake simulation machines, people who think it’s hilarious to illegally modify their muscle cars’ exhaust systems to basically have no muffler, people running their wood jointer machine for so long that I can only imagine they’re operating an illegal, untaxed lumber supply racket, people interminably screaming at their spouses and significant enemies in their driveways and on the sidewalks, etc, on and on.
It’s just a ceaseless and endlessly varied cacophony of fucking sound, from these rude motherfuckers. If any one of the shitheads who has lived near me over the last 40-something years had ever started collecting sirens, I would have lost my mind in the same arguably constructive way that young Bruce Wayne lost his marbles. There would be some guy called “Decibel Dude” stalking the streets, pouring sugar in leafblower gas tanks, muzzling dogs, removing chains from chainsaws and blades from lawnmowers, and whatever else I could think of to FINALLY MAKE PEOPLE JUST A LITTLE FUCKING QUIETER, FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
I’m just saying. Your world of “we’re all respectfully quiet, around here” is an utterly alien utopia, from where I’m sitting.
It’s illegal for us to set the sirens off willy nilly in most places, as it would cause a panic. Most of us (myself included) wait until the city tests their main sirens to set ours off, or on special occasions like New Years and Fourth of July/Canada Day. We’re very aware of how our hobby affects others and those who don’t learn very quickly when the neighbours get pissed.
Well, it’s legitimately good to hear (pun intended) that y’all are responsible siren owners.
Honestly, I didn’t even vaguely suspect that siren collecting was a thing until I had this conversation.
Haha, people are always surprised when they find out the hobby exists. It’s certainly niche!