What if YOU'RE the Lousy Neighbor?

A Bad Advice conundrum

Welcome back to Geoff Rodkey’s Bad Advice! Today’s question—with apologies for how lazy I’m getting with the pseudonyms—comes from B.:

“Spring is here in the upper Midwest, bringing with it flowers, songbirds, warm days, and mowing the damn lawn. While I appreciate a nicely mowed lawn, it’s not something I truly give a shit about - unless my neighbor mows HIS lawn. Then mine looks like all crappy. My lawn looked fine 30 minutes ago, Chuck.

So, how would I go about encouraging my neighbor to mow his lawn less often so I can mow mine less often?”

Your question puts me in a very odd position, B. It might not seem like it, but I started this column because I wanted to add some value to the universe.

Not a lot, obviously. But a little. A smidge! Sure, the advice is terrible. But the intentions are good.

And this is the first time I’ve been asked a question for which any good-faith answer runs the risk of making the world a worse place.

Again: not by a lot. But if I help you sandbag your neighbor’s lawn care routine, the lives of everyone on your block will be made just a tiny bit poorer by the loss of pleasure that comes from the sight of a well-tended lawn, nestled harmoniously among similarly cared-for lawns.

This is a particularly poignant subject for me, because I just returned from a trip to my hometown with my middle son. For the first time, one of my children got to see the house I grew up in.

And it’s gone completely to shit.

Ignore the sad old man in that photo. Focus on the godawful mess of the lawn behind him: a gray-brown wasteland of fallen branches and decomposing leaves that nobody bothered to rake before winter set in six months ago. Note also the stark contrast to the much healthier, actually-kinda-green-even-though-it’s-still-early-April lawn next door.

Now go back to the sad old man. Do you know why he’s so sad? Because his childhood home was purchased by a feral pack of opioid addicts without a shred of self-respect, or any decent appreciation for the foundational importance of yard work to both homeownership and civic health.

It’s been like this for years. Every time one of my friends returns to our hometown for a visit, I get a text like this one:

Nothing’s changed since 2018, except that I’ve decided it can’t be meth they’re on, because these people clearly have no surplus energy. How hard could it be to spray some weed killer on those cracks in the driveway?

Sorry for the digression. My point is this:

Inattention to lawn care is not a victimless crime.

And you’re asking me to abet that crime, B.? Instead of taking a good hard look in the mirror, accepting your responsibility to your community, and holding yourself to some basic standards of floral hygiene…you want me to tell you how to drag your decent, hardworking neighbor down to your debased level of selfish indolence?

Okay, fine. Here’s how you do it:

You can’t ask Chuck point-blank to dial back on the yard work, because you’ll look like a jackass. And he’ll almost certainly say no, because he’s still in possession of the moral fiber that you’ve somehow lost.

What you have to do is weaken the moral fiber itself.

Chuck’s a proud man. He’s not going to let his lawn go until after he’s let himself go, spiritually and otherwise.

The good news is that over the past few decades, American life has been reengineered for easy-access degeneracy. Gambling, drugs, sexual perversion, and all manner of gluttony are now available at the touch of a button, without even getting off the couch.

Get Chuck to download Draft Kings and teach him how to bet a parlay. Then buy him some high-THC gummies, point his browser to Pornhub, and order him a bacon-wrapped burrito with a 50-ounce Mountain Dew on Doordash. If his wife starts to freak out, distract her with one of the many bestselling novels about middle-aged women who have adulterous sex with random younger guys just because they’re bored.

In 2025 America, it shouldn’t take much effort to reduce Chuck to such overstimulated depravity that he loses not just the desire but even the ability to engage in a low-dopamine activity like mowing his lawn.

I should probably point out that as his neighbor, your corruption of him might produce some unintended consequences down the road. But that’s a question for another column.

Thanks for your interest in my bad advice, B.! And for anyone who’s still reading: please ask me a question! I still haven’t made one of these up, and I’d like to keep that streak going if I can.