Wanting to go postal on my neighbor

Until today, I've had no reason to complain about my upstairs neighbor. Sure he looks like someone who devotes the majority of his time between finding himself a mail-order bride and playing dungeons and dragons, but I very much subscribe to the live and let live school of thought, and until this evening, couldn't have given a shit about whatever it is he does with himself.

I fully planned on continuing to adhere to this policy of equal parts avoidance and indifference, until this evening, when he decided to bust out his electric guitar and play what I can only describe as some sort of original composition incorporating the worst of 80s hair metal stadium rock with the type of power chords usually associated with ‘satan is my master’ style death metal. He must be some sort of genius, as only a true visionary would be able to come up with something that is literally this bad.

Ordinarily I would run upstairs and tell him to fuck off, but I’m afraid he’ll sacrifice a goat or something and totally fuck me for the bar, also since he doesn’t complain when I throw parties in my apartment, I see no reason to give him an excuse to call the cops the next time I do. I Tomorrow, I think I'll point my speakers towards the ceiling and leave a PMBR CD on repeat at full volume before going to library. Fucker...