Folks are spinning. Out. When is it time for the strait-jacket? The rubber room? What point is made, what line is crossed, that compels others to finally decide that they have heard, and seen, enough, that it's time to send in the goons to spirit you from your apartment?
How many goons does it take to take one Crazy One from their humble abode? How many squad cars? How many paramedics? How much strong-arming and man-handling? How much fury and fear, terror and rage? How much screaming in the night?
Who is next?