Right now

There is a birthday party for a 1 year old going on next door, complete with blaring Latino ballads alternated with reggaton; a Muslim service going on across the street celebrating the birthday of the prophet Muhammad; and an ice-cream truck parked out front, blasting “the Farmer in the Dell” while the driver sells drugs to five dealers who front as clothing store operators (as they themselves are straining the sub-woofer of their SUV blasting crappy hip-hop).

The cogitative dissonance that all of these sounds, taken together, this creates for me (as I try to study for a statistics midterm) is so god-awful that it took me a good 15 minutes just to write this post, and I’m not even sure if it’s grammatically correct. This is the worst.