@two fingers , my post-divorce story is just a little different. There was a young man who lived in a garden apartment diagonally across a small parking lot from my place. He decided, one Sunday afternoon, to bring his bass combo onto his front patio and serenade the neighborhood. He was new at it, and unskilled.
After a half hour of wanking, I decided to position my GK 400RB and the 2x10 + 1x15 cabs in my front doorway (faced his patio directly), plugged in, and played about 30 seconds of Duran Duran’s White Lines cover. Then closed my front door.
Message delivered. He packed up.
A couple of years later, the cops shut the complex down because he was holed up in his family’s apartment holding a gun on his family after he committed an armed robbery. He eventually surrendered, and the family moved out in the middle of the night soon afterwards.
I love my adopted state, but FloriDUH is a thing here.