Scissor n Roll
Bizarro is brought to you today by Musical Inspiration.
One of my biggest pet peeves is being able to hear music that I did not choose. Be it a boombox, a backyard party, the upstairs neighbor’s stereo, you name it, it bugs the crap out of me. Even if it’s music that I like. There’s just something about being forced to hear music when I didn’t choose to that miffs me. I’m just a cranky SOB that way, I guess. Thus, I can think of few things worse than living next door to a teenage garage band.
As adamant as I am about this annoyance, I used to be in a teenage garage band and we used to rock our guitarist’s neighborhood in Tulsa with our clumsy attempts at musical expression. We’re probably lucky we weren’t shot.
My known associate, Wayno of Pittsburgh, whose idea this gag is, is also in a band but they’re well past the garage stage. They’re seasoned professionals and likely have a private, palatial rehearsal space––like the drummer’s mom’s basement or Wayno’s living room, which already had carpeting on all of the walls and ceilings because that’s just how he rolls. Wayno’s account of this cartoon disturbance can be found here.