Author’s Note: Owen is inconsolable this week after the passing of yet another needless, paternalistic ordinance by the New Orleans City Council. Following a mental breakdown, Owen now believes himself to be Bland Landers, an imaginary cantankerous brother of noted advice columnist Ann Landers. Thus, the following advice column will run today in place of Owen’s usual rantings.
My husband and I recently moved in next to a longstanding juke joint, and as we anticipated, it’s far too noisy. Adding insult to this complete absence of injury, they’re also having music more often that they used to because the bar has become more successful (which also means more people loitering around, which makes me nervous for reasons I usually discuss in vague, coded language). I’ve called the police out several times without warning to harass them, but nothing ever gets done. What do I do?
— Batty in the Bywater