To the People of Claremont: Shut the Fuck Up!


To the people of Claremont:

SHUT THE FUCK UP! Your phone calls to the police are hurting my ears.

Let me take you on a little adventure. Imagine for a moment that your name is Bertha, you’ve been dying your hair blonde for the past twenty years and your breasts now tickle your belly button. It’s 11p.m. on the Saturday following Halloween and you’ve been asleep in bed for 4 hours now. You decided to stay up a little later than usual in order to finish that fifteenth game of hearts on the computer. You’ll still be awake by 3 a.m. anyway spending the rest of the dark morning knitting in front of heart-felt infomercials on T.V. and then you’ll probably send some mass emails to your grandchildren about the true meaning of love and how its important that we all stick together in our country’s time of need until the BC café opens up for its early bird special. But wait, something disrupts your schedule.

BERTHA: Harold, what is that incessant racket?

HAROLD: I don’t know Bertha, it sounds like Ozo Motly.

BERTHA: Why those young devils and their rock and roll. The whole world’s going communist before our very eyes and they can’t wait until 3 a.m. (when I normally wake up) to celebrate.

HAROLD: Leave me the fuck alone Bertha.

BERTHA: Harold, you’ll give a rat’s ass when those drug consumed hippies start walking onto our property threatening a drum circle.

HAROLD: Bertha, I’m pretty sure there’s a program on television right now about those knives you’re always talking about. Why don’t you go look into it.

BERTHA: Harold, this is serious. I’m calling the police….

And now we’re back. You’re a drunk college student dressed up as Hunter S. Thompson from Fearing and Loathing in Las Vegas or a scantily clad slut with rabbit ears. You’ve lost control of your body to a sea of people moving you. You kind of feel like throwing up but you really don’t want to lose your place near the front of the stage and hey, you also kind of like it.

I’m sorry, but if everyone could just calm down… I have an announcement to make… If you could just stop chanting for one moment I’ll clue you in as to how we’re going to fuck you over for the first time this November.”

Forget Racism. Forget Sexism. Fuck the Bullshit. Saturday Night we all fell victims to good ol’ fashioned ageism. Numerous people worked their asses off to get an unreal band to put on an unforgettable show and whoops… we forgot that we live in a world where our priorities (people aged 18-22) are not the police’s priorities. I’m sorry but I have no sympathy for the residents of Claremont. What the fuck do you expect when you live next to a college. How ‘bout letting us FINISH one good party a year. Let us make some noise, let me get some ass, let me look back on college and remember my Saturday nights as something other than a frustration with the system that doesn’t give a shit about how I want to spend my Saturday nights. I only prey that we all grow up and have a little more sympathy for young adults.

In closing, I’d like to organize a group to go door to door through the houses of Claremont and collect money to reimburse every person who bought a ticket for Harwood Halloween and give them four dollars back on the party they paid for to last another two hours. Fuck strategy. Fuck reasonability. Fuck tact. And most of all Fuck the people of Claremont who won’t let us go off for one night a year. My suggestion to you; Move to Isla Vista, adjacent to the UC Santa Barbara campus, and find out what a real noise complaint is.

Isaac Zones ’04