To: the jerk down the street who was setting off mortars until the wee hours:
Learn how to fucking reload!
Honestly, if you had been able to fire those 5 or ten or however-many mortar shots you had in a reasonable succession, I would have been able to wait you out and then fall asleep. But No! You had to be the world’s slowest artillerist and only fire one about every 15 minutes, so just about the time I’d be drifting off, there’d be another *whump*… **boom!** knocking me back into wakefulness.
Combine this with the idiot that honks his horn outside my house every might around 10:15p, and I’m about ready to build some self-contained, automated paintball rifle emplacements on the power poles. Let’s see how long it goes on after the first 1000 rounds of neon pink paint.