This One Goes to Eleven

I just filed a middle-of-the-night, can’t-sleep motion in the civil case. Oh dear, {D}, you are not bright and your lawyer is a brain-dead whore.

I’m feeling a touch delusions-of-grandeur-y at the current moment. I’m gloating like a motherfucker. It might come back and bite me in the ass, but whatever.

This bitch right here. See, he said he couldn’t hear me. And that is a first for me because everyone can fucking hear me when I talk. But I was pondering the whole thing, and I realized that math exists and everything is quantifiable in some unit of measurement. So all I need is the numbers.

This one goes to 11.

We have video. It has an audio track, and you can determine how many decibels the words were spoken at. And, of course, you can test the frequency of the sound.

So I ran some numbers, and I’ve also been talking out loud to myself for days on a decibel meter app. I really fucking do have an above-average speaking voice.

Now here is the thing: human hearing is definitely quantifiable. That is called a hearing test. I just need the fucking audiogram. We will then be able to know exactly what you were capable of hearing.

Hearing is such a simple process. So simple. {D}, do you recall my giddy little Victrola class I gave you? You may have had to sit through a couple of them because I truly love that shit. Remember the diaphragm? Me explaining it is just like your ear?

So, {D}, I do have a touch of a question for you: did you decide that you would perjure yourself in something easily quantifiable to a person you know had a vast knowledge of sound, sound recording, sound processing, and had a hearing-impaired child?

See, here is the deal. I did my master’s thesis on American pop music. Okay, people generally don’t understand the actual thing I was studying. Most people think it is the history of rock and roll. Yeah, no, that isn’t what I’m actually talking about. I don’t care because that shit is stupid and anyone can do it. I told history in part through the music involved and, a little more specifically, the technology of sound, sound recording, and the media by which it can be disseminated. I’m an expert.

See, here is the deal. Everyone thinks pop culture history is just fun and games, but we’re probably the biggest dorks. Just as an aside, the Civil War guys are seriously just a bunch of fucking pricks in fishhook formation. (If any of you got that joke, I love you.)

I digress. I am about to burn your fucking ass, {D}. And I’m quite pleased with myself.

You are grasping at straws. Honest to God, you have no possible defense. Oh dear God, I love it. Dude, just settle out of court and write me a fucking check already, homie. And obviously, this plus other things I’ve found, I will be filing a scathing fucking motion to compel the court to pursue perjury charges.

I mean, obviously, you could try to fake the hearing test. I don’t think you would have the ability to differentiate tone in the process well enough to not completely fuck that up. I mean, you have your friend there, and she should know, like, all of the audiologists in the area, so it is possible to slide someone a little hundy here or there and have them fudge some numbers or put your name on someone else’s report. However, my numbers are so fucking good, you couldn’t even do that and have it be believable.

Frankly, even if you fake it, you will not hit even my deviation on this shit. We are talking about one louder. Fuck 11, this motherfucker is going to 50. That, my friend, is 40 louder.

Your only defense is to discredit me. However, the fact remains, the question at hand is not my actions. It’s only yours. The rest, as they say, is noise.