Out of sheer respect for the troops, we have been patient. Have you heard a single peep from us about the racket coming from Linda’s tacky home at 154 Sea Bluff Lane since this war began? You haven’t.* But with this conflict now behind us, we’re asking for your support for this ordinance against wind chimes. 

*Apart from the leaflets we distributed, which we hope you enjoyed.

Those of you lucky enough to live out of earshot: imagine, if you will, hearing the following 24 hours a day.

BING-BONG. DING-DANG. TING-A-LING!

It sounds like chow time at a Tibetan monastery. Has someone given their triplets a xylophone? Nope. Linda’s been to World Market. She’s decided that what this community needs is a soundtrack, and that it should be the ringtone of a handsy masseuse. 

Putting ourselves in Linda’s shoes, it’s pretty clear that she is entranced not just by the random clanging of metal cylinders, but the fact that this object produces sound all on its own. Revolutionary, Linda. Most of us got over this a long time ago.

That “most of us” is who we’re hoping will join our movement, and codify this county-wide ban targeting Linda specifically. Doing so will make our towns safer, not least because fed-up vigilantes will no longer be tempted to head over to 154 Sea Bluff Lane (for example) with a pair of scissors.

We’re aware, by the way, that wind chimes have a place in this world. What we’re saying is that that place is on a wraparound porch outside Wichita. In that context – perhaps sitting in a rocking chair, enjoying a glass of lemonade after putting away your riding mower – it might even sound pleasant. But this isn’t a depressed agricultural region, Linda; we don’t care about the price of soybeans. Our house cost over three million dollars.